Son writes a blog. Once a week, without fail. Until he doesn't.......
I feel that this creates a certain pressure for yours truly. I try to write monthly, and am now three weeks late. Son wrote recently about the Nike trainers that I never let him have as a child. About skiing and the anticipation and excitement of his first ski of the winter season. Daughter reminds me of the rule that I set for them as children that no breakfast cereal should cost more than 30p per 100g.
I was a tough negotiater.... a 'mean' mother...... I left all these scars. But we all have scars, right? My mother wouldn't let me play a second instrument. She couldn't afford it. So I took up the oboe as an adult, and then discovered that counting bars when my instrument was not playing was nigh on impossible for me, so I was never able to join an orchestra. Maybe son can buy his own Nike trainers now that he is grown up. And daughter can have any cereal of her choosing. I was only trying to stop them eating too much sugar. Fortunately Weetabix and Shreddies are cheaper than Cheerios and Frosties.
Strange things are happening; I find myself playing the piano again after years of abstinence. Drawn in by Bach's Goldberg Variations, which featured highly in the novel 'Do not Say we have Nothing' by Madeleine Thein. The novel explores the cultural revolution in China. How much tougher was the life of those sent to detention camps for playing music. Their instruments smashed and their compositions burned. I feel so lucky in comparison, and am trying to learn to play some of the easier variations. It is a very slow process.
But I am really here to tell you about Uzbekistan. My other half (OH) and I spent 10 days there in November, The problem that I have, is that I was so blown away by the whole experience that I haven't known where to start, or what to say.
I feel that this creates a certain pressure for yours truly. I try to write monthly, and am now three weeks late. Son wrote recently about the Nike trainers that I never let him have as a child. About skiing and the anticipation and excitement of his first ski of the winter season. Daughter reminds me of the rule that I set for them as children that no breakfast cereal should cost more than 30p per 100g.
I was a tough negotiater.... a 'mean' mother...... I left all these scars. But we all have scars, right? My mother wouldn't let me play a second instrument. She couldn't afford it. So I took up the oboe as an adult, and then discovered that counting bars when my instrument was not playing was nigh on impossible for me, so I was never able to join an orchestra. Maybe son can buy his own Nike trainers now that he is grown up. And daughter can have any cereal of her choosing. I was only trying to stop them eating too much sugar. Fortunately Weetabix and Shreddies are cheaper than Cheerios and Frosties.
Strange things are happening; I find myself playing the piano again after years of abstinence. Drawn in by Bach's Goldberg Variations, which featured highly in the novel 'Do not Say we have Nothing' by Madeleine Thein. The novel explores the cultural revolution in China. How much tougher was the life of those sent to detention camps for playing music. Their instruments smashed and their compositions burned. I feel so lucky in comparison, and am trying to learn to play some of the easier variations. It is a very slow process.
But I am really here to tell you about Uzbekistan. My other half (OH) and I spent 10 days there in November, The problem that I have, is that I was so blown away by the whole experience that I haven't known where to start, or what to say.
Registan Square, Samarkand
I
was tempted to book the trip by some photos of the Tashkent metro
stations that I saw on social media. I find it odd that I chose to book
on such a whim. The rest of the trip far outshone the metro. Taking
photos without a tripod and an empty station was challenging and
unsatisfactory.
The metro stations are ornate and dramatic. Each has a theme. Photography has only been allowed since 2018, as the stations used to have a secondary function as nuclear fall out shelters.
This one below, Kosmonavtlar, is about space exploration and cosomonauts.
The metro stations are ornate and dramatic. Each has a theme. Photography has only been allowed since 2018, as the stations used to have a secondary function as nuclear fall out shelters.
This one below, Kosmonavtlar, is about space exploration and cosomonauts.
Kosmonavtlar (Tashkent Metro)
Valentina Tereshkova, the first woman in space.
Decorative tiles in the Tashkent metro.
When I booked the holiday, I knew that we would be visiting cities from the ancient silk roads. Nothing prepared me for the breathtaking architecture found in the mosques, mausoleums, city squares and ancient madrasas ( colleges of islamic instruction).
From Tashkent, to Samarkand, and on to Khiva. So many buildings, so much beauty, and so easy to confuse them all after a whirlwind tour. I could dazzle you with ornate ceilings, walls and doors, but mostly I keep thinking about the people and the culture of the country that is about twice as large as the UK.
The local tourists were as fascinated by us as we were with them. They were very friendly, and just as obsessed with their mobile phones as we were.
The
younger generation are learning English as well as Uzbek and Russian,
and were keen to practice on us by asking us for our telephone number
and suggesting that we call each other ...... we politely declined.
We were warned before we travelled that the diet consists mainly of meat, and that the local dish, Plov, a lamb, rice and vegetable dish is greasy and heavy.
So we were surprised to find that to he contrary, there were many options for delicious vegetables and salads, as well as the predicted kebabs and plov. Locals eat plov at least once a week, so it was interesting to see that you can buy pre-prepared carrots and potatoes in the local market. No plastic bags or cellophane wrapping in sight......!
Ready chopped vegetables in the market.
Plov - a dish with lamb, rice and vegetables.
The
main reason to visit Uzbekistan is to visit the cities that formed part
of the ancient Silk Road between the east and the west. We were
bamboozled with historic facts wherever we went. A history that was
unfamiliar and complicated. I found it hard to take it all in.
Mosques, mausoleums and madrasas, all built to impress with their blue tiles that denote wealth. Overwhelming in their scale and beauty.
Mosques, mausoleums and madrasas, all built to impress with their blue tiles that denote wealth. Overwhelming in their scale and beauty.
Kalta Minor Minaret, Khiva
Celing detail from the Shah-i-Zinda complex, Samarkand
Khast Imam complex, Tashkent
We struggled with the local currency. One UK pound is 16,000 Uzbek Som. We needed 2000 som for a visit to the local 'facilities'. That's a loo, bathroom, restroom or WC to you, and is about 12 pence. in UK money. We held on to 2000 som notes wherever we could.
I was transfixed by the cloud formations in Tashkent. They seemed unlike any that I have seen in the west.
Central Asian cloud formation
We heard about family culture from our wonderful guide, Lochin.
He explained that when a girl marries she is not supposed to smile at her wedding, as she should be sad at leaving her own family. We saw many very miserable looking brides. The grooms looked pretty serious too.
He explained that when a girl marries she is not supposed to smile at her wedding, as she should be sad at leaving her own family. We saw many very miserable looking brides. The grooms looked pretty serious too.
Uzbek bride and groom.
Another custom is related to finding a partner that you might wish to marry. You don't tell your parents that you have met 'the one', instead you place a carrot on your father's shoe.
The youngest son of the family traditionally lives with his parents and his own family. This ensures that the parents have support as they get older. A very different attitude to many western families.
I remember much more about these little details of daily life than the exploits of a fourteenth century adventurer. OH will have taken in all of the history and added it to his already extensive personal library of historical facts. I blame Mrs Newsome, my secondary school history teacher. She has a lot to answer for. And unlike most of my teachers I remember her name, and what she looked like. Short, with orange hair......
Street stalls, Khiva, wrapped for the night.
I was struck by the cleanliness and feeling of safety in Uzbekistan. No litter. No no-go areas. Street cleaners with hand made brooms wherever we travelled.
I felt very safe. A testament to the honesty of locals is the way in which street stalls are wrapped up at night; a simple cloth and some string. I yearn for a return to such values here in the UK.
A street cleaner takes a break in Uzbekistan
I have so many photos, so I will leave you with just a few favourites. My next task is to create a book of our trip before I forget names and places.
There is work to do!
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