The new view from my window

In my new apartment, I have a view of the mountains situated to the south of Bishkek, but you wouldn't know it as the city is often enveloped in a thick, hazy smog.  But, this morning it was clear and you can see the mountains in all their splendor.

The World's Largest Teahouse

After completing our official UCA business, we had a few a moments to spare in Dushanbe, so we visited the World's Largest Teahouse, which isn't terribly far from the World's Tallest Flagpole. The teahouse is strange in that it is not actually a teahouse because you can't get a cup of tea unless you've been invited to a special event held there.  Really, the place is better described by it's bureaucratic name:  the Palace of Cultural Entertainment and Special Events.  In addition to its formal conference rooms, it has a bowling alley, billiard hall, and ballroom that anyone with at least $3500 can rent for a wedding, bar mitzvah (however unlikely that might be in Tajikistan), or other gathering of their choosing.

The opulence, luxury, and size of the place is staggering and reminiscent of the Palace of Versailles or other royal property built in 17th Century Europe.  All the stonework and woodwork was made by hand by an army of Tajik craftsmen.  It was completed last year after five years of construction and no one knows the total cost, although I have seen speculation that this rather impressive building used up to five percent of Tajikistan's GDP during each of the years of its construction.  However, our tour guide said that only private funds were used in building the teahouse--if you say so, Ms. Tourguide.  All of this in a nation that spends only about $35 per year per capita on education (necessitating our organization's construction of a campus in the mountains of Tajikistan to serve underdeveloped populations, opening in 2017).  Knowing what life is like for the average Tajik, when one is finished touring the "teahouse" a person is filled with awe at the over-the-top architectural display, but ultimately one is met with a feeling of profound dismay after considering the excess.  As I left the teahouse I couldn't help but imagine this might be the kind of project a President Trump would insist upon developing if he happens to be elected; perhaps he would situate his huge teahouse somewhere in the vicinity of that World's Largest Wall he's planning to build.

By the way, some wealthy Middle Eastern dude saw the World's Tallest Flag Pole in Dushanbe and was so impressed that he decided to build a taller one in Jeddah making the flagpole in Tajikistan second best only a few years after it was completed.

Exterior of the World's Largest Teahouse:  notice on the far left in the background, about a mile from where this picture was photographed, the world's second tallest flagpole

Entrance to the teahouse

President's Conference Room (used for official events only)

Lapiz mosaic in the President's Conference Room, with hand carved wood columns

Mosaic of the Nation's President and his mother. 

Large Conference Room

Dome of Large Conference Room, encrusted in gold leaf, with a 1600 bulb chandelier  

Official Banquet Hall; the hall is almost entirely made up of hand carved cedar; there is so much cedar in the room, the aroma deceives you into almost thinking you are strolling through a dense grove of cedar trees

The billiard room is open to the public, but is almost empty as it a bit pricey for the average Tajik; notice the Russian-style billiard tables which are almost twice the size of US-style pool tables

Tajik cleaning ladies in the ballroom running to escape being photographed while caught sitting, taking a break

Main public ballroom:  for $3500 you too can rent this room for a few hours (food and services not included)

View of mountains and outskirts of Dushanbe from the tearoom terrace

Riding in a Marshrutka

When traveling in unfamiliar places, one never knows what mode of transportation is reliable, dependable, reasonably priced and safe.  My colleagues have traveled extensively throughout Dushanbe and so I went along with them when they told me the best way to travel is in a shared taxi called a Marshrutka.   Normally, I would be hesitant to use something like a Marshrutka, but it seems to work well in Dushanbe.  Basically you wait at a bus stop (busses are infrequent and often inhabited by pickpockets).  There are several routes that Marshrutkas take around Dushanbe that they do not deviate from, so you need to know which route serves your destination.   When a car or minibus comes by with the number of your route, you wave your arms, the Marshrutka stops, each passenger jumps in and pays the driver three Somonis (about 35 cents) and off you go.  If there is room in your car or minibus and someone else flags you down, the Marshrutka stops, and a stranger jumps in.   When you want out, you tell the driver "Let me out at the next stop" and you jump out and then someone else might jump in.   Another nice feature of the Marshrutka is that there is usually one with your route number buzzing by every minute or two.

We rode in several Marshrutkas during our time in Dushanbe and had cheap and evidently safe travels as I am still here writing this blog.  Interestingly enough, the one time we had no alternative but to take a regular taxi, we encountered a surly driver, found ourselves stopped a kilometer from our destination until we agreed to a higher fare, and ended up paying ten times the rate we would have in a Marshrutka.  My regular taxi experience serves as a reminder that one must often discard one's American intuition when traveling and go with the local knowledge.  Remember, when in Dushanbe take the Marshrutka and you will get cheap, reliable transportation and you might just meet several interesting drivers and strangers along the way you ordinarily would have never encountered.

An example of a Marshrutka.  You can see from the number in the window that it will take you along Route #8 and you will also notice someone in a yellow jacket flagging down the Marshrutka so that they too can get a ride.

Didn't you used to be Royal Crown Cola?

Did you know that RC Cola is the official soft drink of Tajik Airlines?  Before my flight from Bishkek to Dushanbe, I didn't.  As far as I can tell it's the only entity on the planet that has RC as an official soft drink.  And Tajikistan might be the only the nation in the world where RC has a major portion of the market share.  I am old enough to remember when RC was a big national brand in the US that advertised on the three major TV networks--back when there actually were major TV networks. After being bought and sold by several beverage conglomerates with about as much care and thought as a dog might use when playing with an old shoe in the backyard, RC today is a major player in the Tajikistan market and not much else.  It seems the global economy is composed of a few winners. Then there's the rest of the world.

Kurutob at Lola #5

We went to a small, humble restaurant in Dushanbe called Lola, Number 5.  Conveniently enough, it was located next to another restaurant named Lola, Number 10.  We ordered the Tajik national dish called Kurutob.  It is thin, light Tajik bread layered in a wooden bowl with tomatoes, green onions, dill, parsley and a mild yogurt mixture.  Each bowl of Kurutob also contains exactly one very spicy pepper that diners can mix into the Kurutob if they choose.  The bread, when combined with the yogurt takes on a consistency almost that of pasta.  Tajiks dip pieces of bread into the Kurutob to eat it, but we decided on this day to use the spoons and forks they gave us.  I found it quite delicious.

Tea Culture

Half the world it seems are members of tea culture while the other half resides firmly in coffee culture.  While I am not opposed to coffee and will gladly consume an Italian cappuccino or a quality Central American blend, Central Asia, happily for me, is undoubtedly a member of global tea culture.  While coffee is available, tea is really what everyone drinks, probably due to the region's proximity to China and India and location on the historic Silk Road.

I was lucky enough to have a pleasant cup of green tea with lemon at the Rohat Tea House, one of Dushanbe's finest old establishments.  Tajikistan is also, perhaps, the most prominent member of the world's carrot culture as fresh carrots and carrot juice can be found everywhere.  My glass of freshly-squeezed carrot juice at Rohat was only 40 cents.  Sadly, I was told the Rohat will soon be torn down to make way for a large apartment building.

Rohat Teahouse 

Inside the Rohat Teahouse

What Expats Do in Dushanbe

My two colleagues who accompanied me to Dushanbe have been connected with UCA and the entire Aga Khan Development Network (which is the larger umbrella group under which UCA falls) for a much longer period of time than I have.  So they have connections and contacts with people in the Development Network throughout the region, including Dushanbe.  Our first night in Dushanbe, we connected with several of their Canadian and British expat friends who work for AKDN in the city. Three of the friends were hosting a Trivia Night in the major sports bar of Dushanbe called Istiqlol.  Unfortunately, two of the five rounds of the competition were on Tajik history and logos of Tajik companies.  Needless to say, we didn't win, but our poor Kyrgyz/Canadian team (also including one very Tajik-illiterate U.S. member) managed to place 4th out of nine teams.  That's what expats do every Wednesday night in Dushanbe.  Notice the giant wall of alcohol, under the seductive red lights on the right side of the picture: something one does not expect to observe in very conservative Islamic Tajikistan.

Images of Dushanbe, Tajikistan

The past few days I was in Tajikistan with a couple of colleagues to conduct focus groups with university students on what they have/want/need in terms of student life programming.  Tajikistan does share some similarities with Kyrgyzstan (poor, mountainous), but it is also very different.  Kyrgyzstan is still closely tied to its Russian/Soviet past, while the Tajiks have done much to shed their Soviet remnants.  For example, in urban Kyrgyzstan the default language is Russian, while it is Tajik in Tajikistan.  What little Soviet architecture that existed has been pretty much replaced in Tajikistan.  The Kyrgyz have been strongly influenced by Mongol invaders while the Tajiks spent much of their time under Persian control and this "Persianness" which only exists in Southern parts of Kyrgyzstan, is not apparent where I live in Bishkek in the north.  Tajikistan is a bit more socially conservative and is controlled by President Rahoman, now in his 22nd year of rule and appearing to have an indefinite term of office.  His image and likeness are ubiquitous and governmental control extends even to social media as Facebook, Youtube, and Twitter cannot be accessed. Finally, Kyrgyz people in the capital almost all wear Western clothes, while the majority of Tajiks in Dushanbe, especially women, wear traditional dress.

Below are images of Dushanbe, the capital city (pronounced Doo-Shawn-Bay), where I spent my time in Tajikistan.  It was unseasonably warm and beautiful during my visit--78 degrees and sunny.

Monument to Somoni, leader of the Samanids (10th Century).  Considered to be the "father"  of all things Tajik.

National Monument in Radaki Park, central square of Dushanbe

View of Radaki Park

Monument to Radaki, greatest ancient Tajik poet

Women shredding carrots and selling goods in the Dushanbe Green Market

Restaurant in Dushanbe:  typical architecture

Two college students chatting on a sidewalk in Dushanbe

Happy Men's Day!

Today is Men's Day, which is a national holiday in Kyrgyzstan.  My department still came in to work today though, as there is too much to do and everyone realizes that we have less than six months to invent and operationalize every aspect of a campus.

However, the entire staff celebrated Men's Day yesterday at work.  All the women greeted the men as they entered the building in the morning and gave them a little ribbon with a positive message.  Mine said, "You're awesome!"  Then the woman organized a special buffet lunch for us in the foyer at noontime where they recognized men for their contributions.  Finally, each man was given a gift.  A tool kit!  Hurray.  (Some of you might not realize that I'm not a tool kit kind of guy.)  It just goes to show that tools could possibly be an area of cultural similarity that transcends national boundaries.

Then yesterday evening, I grabbed a quick meal at a Chinese restaurant.  Because I was a man and everybody was celebrating men, they gave me a free appetizer (duck braised in cumin) and a free serving of cognac to finish my meal.

Why is Men's Day celebrated?  The holiday used to be called Defense of the Fatherland Day and the major activity of the old celebration was inviting elderly war veterans who had fought in the Soviet Army during World War II to come tell their stories of heroism at your workplace or school.  As there aren't many Fatherland defenders left, it just didn't really feel like much of a holiday anymore.  And, add to it the fact that Kyrgyzstan celebrates International Women's Day as a national holiday on March 8, it just seemed to make sense to the Kyrgyz to have a male counterpart holiday to next month's women's celebration.  So, next month, it will be our turn to make a party, provide a meal, and give gifts to the women and celebrate their contributions to Kyrgyzstan.  As far as February holidays go, Men's Day kind of beats Presidents' Day, wouldn't you say? Think about it: has anyone ever given you the gift of a tool kit in honor of Woodrow Wilson or Martin Van Buren?

Thoughts from the Obama Cafe

During the time I have lived in and traveled through other countries I have noticed that certain elements of American society are admired, emulated, and respected by outside cultures.  Jazz, Hollywood, and the Old West are certain cultural features that have captured the imagination of people outside the boundaries of the U.S. and I have encountered hundreds of places that pay homage to these iconically American features across all cultures I have visited.  The same is true with political figures.  In my travels I have run across a multitude of things named for Franklin Roosevelt and John F. Kennedy as they were American leaders who left a deep and abiding positive impact on the world's psyche.  Conversely, I have never encountered anything outside my home country that honored Richard Nixon or George W. Bush.  Despite the GOP frenzy to name almost every airport, park, and roadway after Ronald Reagan, no such enthusiasm exists outside the boundaries of the U.S. for the Gipper.  Not once have I been in a Cafe Reagan or traveled down a Ronald Reagan Boulevard outside the lower 48.  I think it says something about our current president that many Americans can't comprehend or understand, that I have a seen a few positive displays toward Obama.  Yesterday, in fact, I had my tea in Cafe Obama, where I was greeted by a welcoming, life-sized photo of our President and where I enjoyed my beverage under the watchful gaze of an Obama mural.

Do the Kyrgyz like President Obama because he physically resembles them more than the average white President?  Do they like him because he doesn't speak in harsh tones against Islamic people?  Do they like him because he hasn't started any major wars against Islamic countries?  Do they like his calm voice of moderation and reason?  Perhaps, to some degree, it's a little of all of the above. In my brief discussions with people here, I find that they aren't aligned against me as an American and one of the reasons is that President Obama is seen as a reasonable and fair person.  How peculiar and ironic is it that those I have met in Kyrgyzstan speak about the President of my own country with more respect, knowledge, and nuance than many of those I encountered when I lived in Arkansas?

On the other hand, everyone I've talked to about politics is horribly alarmed by the rhetoric they are hearing of all Muslims being banned from the U.S. and wild-eyed politicians talking about carpet bombing parts of the Islamic world.  "Will we be banned from the entering U.S.?"  asked one of my Islamic co-workers who had completed his doctorate degree at the University of Minnesota after the fall of the Soviet Union.  My co-worker, who has even served for a couple years from Kyrgyzstan as an officer of the UM Golden Gopher International Alumni Association and who regularly returns to the U.S. to do things on behalf of his beloved alma mater, who loved his time in Minnesota, even he is now very afraid about where the U.S. is headed.  I spoke to another person who was reluctant to do business with the US if it was about to elect a President who would keep him out of the country.  "How can I conduct business, if I am suddenly blocked from the U.S.?"  The inflammatory words of politicians are heard even 10,000 miles away and they are frightening everyone; these words hurt business and these words and attitudes will not bring any positive good to the U.S.  And if these words ever became policies...well let's just say we can be pretty sure there won't be any Trump Cafes opened or Cruz Boulevards named anywhere in the world.  Sadly, I don't try to reassure my Kyrgyz friends when they question me, because I, too, am very afraid my country is losing its mind.  All I can do is sit in the Obama Cafe and quietly sip my tea.

Random remnants of the Soviet era

Monument to Soviet air power:  Bishkek, 500 meters from my apartment.

What's playing at the movies?

I haven't taken the time to figure out what the movie on the left is all about, but the one on the right is pretty self-explanatory.  And you can get a lesson in the Cyrillic alphabet by comparing the Cyrillic letters to what their counterpart would be in our Roman alphabet.  I hear the monthly English language movie (one showing only) is coming in a couple weeks and a couple of my Canadian co-workers are getting excited.

File under: Cultural Differences

Today was an extremely beautiful day in Bishkek, sunny and in the 50s.  Better yet, it was somewhat breezy so the haze and smog wasn't as extreme as usual.  So, I took very long walk across the city and found myself a mile or two away from my apartment craving a small snack and a pot of tea.  I ended up walking into a cafe and ordered a snack.  There was a man and his son at the table across from me.  Right after they were served their drinks, the man got up and spoke briefly to the server and then left the restaurant.  Through the window I could see him wandering off with another guy, looking as though they were about to conduct some sort of business; and within a minute or two the man was completely out of sight.  Obviously, the little boy was a bit anxious about the whole situation.

That's when the server took over.  She brought the boy the pizza that the father had ordered for them, served him a slice, and then cut the slice into bite-sized pieces for him when he had trouble eating it.  She did that for the second slice as well.

And when she wasn't busy serving me and the other customers she spoke to the child very nicely and engaged him in conversation, just to occupy him and to keep him from being upset.

I asked the server if she knew the man and the little boy.  "No, I don't know them at all," she told me.  Finally, about twenty minutes later, as I was about to leave, the man came back, barely acknowledged the server, and rejoined the meal as if nothing had happened--and the server returned to being the aloof, emotionless presence she had been before the man's departure, leaving me to wonder about differences in culture and what all this might have meant.

The service charge is customarily added to the bill in Kyrgyzstan and customers seldom leave a tip, but today I made an exception.

The Invasion Begins

One of the endearing characteristics of Kyrgyzstan is that the entire country does not house a single American fast food outlet.  Not one.  Not even one of the omnipresent Subway franchises that seem to have infected every other corner of the planet like some rogue virus has yet to make it here to this remote outpost.  There are a couple of Kyrgyz fast food chains, the biggest one being Begemot.  It turns out that the word Begemot means hippopotamus in the Kyrgyz language. So either the Kyrgyz have a sly sense of humor or they are unusually honest in their efforts at consumer education.

Unfortunately, this idyllic situation changed three weeks ago, when a new Western fast food outlet opened three blocks from my apartment.  You'll never guess which one it is.

Yes, it's Nathan's Hot Dogs of all franchises.  I haven't yet "mustard" up the courage to try the Kyrgyzstan Nathan's and, actually, wouldn't be at all sad if this effort failed in that it might discourage the Subways and McDonalds of the world from joining the invasion.  But, I did gather some amusement watching the newly minted Nathan's workers in their spiffy green outfits, bumbling into each other, spilling hot dogs and drinks in their overcrowded work area.

Images of Building and Renewal I

Not only are there images of crumbling and decay in Kyrgyzstan, but also ones of building and renewal as in the last few years this growth has accelerated dramatically, especially in the capital city of Bishkek.  The first picture was taken a block from my apartment and shows four large apartment buildings being built.  The second picture is a smaller building project that is progressing more slowly.  It's hard to see, but you might be able to notice the builders working below; unlike the four large apartment buildings which are utilizing cranes and other modern technology, these builders are using mallets and are constructing the building by hand.

Images of Crumbling and Decay I

One thing that has struck me since I have been in Kyrgyzstan is how various parts of the country's infrastructure are in a process of crumbling and decay. When Kyrgyzstan's Soviet institutions disappeared, almost overnight, the West brought almost nothing in to replace them and the Kyrgyz did not have the resources to replace them themselves.  That's why I'm here: I am a tiny part of an initiative that will hopefully contribute to the rebuilding and upgrading process in the area of higher education.  Periodically, I will post images that document this disintegration, especially in the public sector.  This first group of pictures is from the basement of the National Historical Museum, which was once an enormous showcase Soviet project.  Now the museum is almost completely without visitors and funding as reflected in my images below.

Men's room in the National Museum

Washroom in the National Museum

Abandoned cloakroom in the National Museum

Views from the Naryn campus

I traveled to the small city in the mountains (Naryn) where our campus is being constructed.  I was there to check on the construction and to conduct focus groups regarding student life with college students at the state university.  The first view is of the Blue Mountains which line the south side of campus.  The second view is of the Red Mountains which line the north side of campus.

Vancouver living

Yesterday, I moved into my apartment.  I'll be staying there for a few months until the campus in the mountains is ready in June.  The realtor showed me all these big, fancy, expensive apartments that were over a thousand square feet.  Except one.  The one I ended up choosing.  The one that has a giant photo  mural in the living room.

I had a feeling of deja vu, when I first saw the cityscape.  After sitting on the couch with a cup of tea and studying it for awhile, I have come to the conclusion that my living room is a panorama of Vancouver, BC.  I could be wrong, but that's what it appears to be.  I am less sure about the painting above my bed.  I think it is a portrait of the back of a mermaid, but I could be convinced otherwise.

The kitchen has a certain flair, particularly the wine glass holder, which I also find distinctive.  I think my Vancouver apartment and its furnishings will keep me entertained for the three or four months I'll be staying there.

Lunch at Jalalabad

Probably readers of this blog will eventually become quite weary of my postings of places I have eaten.  I am sorry for that.  It's just that I find the foodways of a culture to be rather instructive and fun.  The restaurant I had lunch at is called Jalalabad.  It is a very traditional Kyrgyz restaurant in food, architecture, and decor.  And to make it even more fun, I am pretty sure I was the only non-Kyrgyz in the place when I ate there.

Not pictured is my delightful Greek Salad with great veggies.  However you can see my Pilaf in the style of Osh (a city in Southern Kyrgyzstan) with rice, beef, spices, and two kinds of carrots.  Also I had the traditional Kyrgyz bread, and a glass of Airan, the national drink of Kyrgyzstan (a sour, yogurt-based beverage).

Everyone in the restaurant was very kind and friendly.  Pictured is my waiter named Tilek.  I was really proud of myself, because I could figure out his name by reading his Cyrillic name tag without my alphabet chart.  Tilek is an ethnic Kyrgiz (not a Russian) who is wearing traditional clothing including the ever-present felt hat worn by many men in rural areas (and a few in the city).