Iran 1, China 0 … which is perhaps why China is ahead

When last we left the trip from Dushanbe to Khujand, the roads were smooth and travel was fast – whether it should have been or not.  Much to my relief, not all of the roads here are perfectly paved and dangled over a 13,000ft cliff.  Some of them were poorly marked, tunneled underground (whether they should be or not), filled with water or kicking up clouds of dust, and fun as hell. 

We start this tale with a little political history … or at least my opinion of a few points.  Say what you will about the Russians and soviet times, but they had a few engineers who knew what they were doing.  The things they built last … like a turn of the century, hand-made hydropower dam, fully abandoned for 20 years and functioning perfectly.  That kind of lasts.  Although not always the most aesthetically pleasing architecture in the world (says this western girl), it has true sticking power.  This would seem to be because of a very real understanding of both technical function, and the limits inherent therein. 

When the Russians were in control here in Tajikistan they decided not to build a 5 km tunnel through the mountains to make travel between Dushanbe and Khujand a little easier.  True, it may have been because it wasn’t as necessary.  The republics were united, so crossing the border from Tajikistan and going through either Kazakhstan or Uzbekistan in order to arrive in a city that is in Tajikistan, was perhaps not as big of a problem.  Additionally, lacking well built roads kept people where they were, made people easier to track, and since politically dis-favorable people were sent this far south in the union, it would make sense that public infrastructure to improve travel times from one area to another down here might not have been high on the USSR’s “to do” list.  That said, they did fight a war down here and moving troops quickly toward Afghanistan may have had its advantage at one time or another.  So that is the situation surrounding Russia’s failure to build/dig the tunnel.  Ohhhh, and because when they surveyed the same sight, they found that there was too much water to safely build such a tunnel without it crumbling and falling to pieces, or collapsing altogether. 

Apologies, the tunnel was too bumpy for a good picture

Well lucky for current-day travelers, the Iranian government has no such qualms.  Thanks to a joint effort between Iran and Tajikistan the Anzob Tunnel was built in 2006.  I am told that it greatly reduces the time it takes to go from Dushanbe to the north.  I believe them.  I am also impressed to see the canals that they have built to channel the water away from the road and through outside passageways.  Did I say canals?  Yes, I guess that’s the word … but it doesn’t quite have the magnitude that perhaps it should.  These are pathways for TORRENTS of water, and unfortunately they are not enough. 

The water has done some serious damage.  To be fair though, it has been 6 years.  You should expect that in 6 years there would be wear and tear on any infrastructure.  Nothing a few small repairs can’t fix … oh right, I’m also told that the Chinese have offered to fix the tunnel, and indeed have replaced the southern entrance entirely. The Iranian government has refused the offer though.  Apparently somehow they were able to get control over future repairs and construction on the tunnel .  So instead of being a vital part of the “new silk road” – Iran’s dream for increasing commerce between its own country and all of the countries formerly along the old silk road – the tunnel has become something of a hazard and  an amusing point of tourism.  Okay, so there aren’t busloads of westerners lining up to go through the thing (thank god, cause it could put a real strain on the tunnel), but it was particularly amusing for this one traveler.  In some places the water was at least 12-18 inches, and the “ventilation system" consisted of 2 industrial size fans which took up the entire southbound lane.

Much of the tunnel only has a single lane of travel open, requiring one direction or the other to wait their turn before leapfrogging one obstacle or another, and in some places, even in our SUV, the holes and ditches are so great that we didn’t have enough clearance.  There was serious concern when we left the tunnel that we had damaged some part of the undercarriage.  Luckily, someone had the forethought to build a little pull off with a toilet (for men only) and space to check your car before traveling on. 

Oh, and maybe you noticed,  the first half of it is completely unlit.  I find this tunnel so amusing!

The Way the Warm Wind Blows

Any one of those words on its own sound quite pleasant, but together it is oppressive, and surprisingly so. 

Sitting in a warm office, it’s quiet and the lights are off.  Peacefully the two occupants slowly click away at their keyboards, happy and productive.  Then it happens.  It isn’t violent.  It isn’t even shocking.  It’s just a wind so warm as to be disconcerting.  Breezes, the movements of air, are supposed to be refreshing.  A change of directionality can feel like a sigh of relief on even the hottest day.  So when the breeze blows and you’re caught in the channel of a wind that is warmer than ambient air, when there is no heater to act as source or even something like an air conditioner that is creating some great contrast:  The movement is offensive.  It. Is. Hot.

Happy and Healthful Ramadan Everyone

The Road from Dushanbe

First and foremost:  Thanks for reading!!  When I sign on, I can see how many people have checked the posts and there’s even a map so I can see where people are signing on from.  There have been readers from the United States, the UK, Kenya, France, Romania, Iran, Russia, Turkey, Germany, Latvia, Australia, Belgium, Spain, Ireland, and South Korea (If I’m missed anyone, sorry, perhaps your internet is being rerouted through another country).  I hope you like what you’re reading, comment often, and continue to tune in.  Thanks for checking this out, and feel free to let me know if you have questions or if there’s something I can investigate for you.

On to the post!

There have been times when I have struggled to find something to write about.  It’s not that there aren’t things that you might find interesting, it’s just that I find it difficult to be passionate about things that I see everyday or that inherently make sense to me.  Many of these things only inherently make sense because I’ve been here or somewhere comparable, but none the less it’s hard to find a topic that I can force to be compelling enough. 

This is not one of those times.  I spent the day traveling from Dushanbe to Khujand.  What was quoted as a 5-6, probably 5, hour car ride turned into a 300km, 9 hour epic journey.  There are so many things that I want to write.  The difficulty is more likely to be that I will have trouble narrowing it down.  In an effort to get all my thoughts down and convey what I think you will find most interesting I’ve decided to break this up into sections.  The result with be that I will just keep writing without posting.  I’ve actually learned a new feature on this blog-o-vel which could come in handy.  I can apparently write posts, publish them, but schedule them for some time in the future.  This benefits you because it means that I will not try to put 4 posts worth of information in a single post.  It also means that I can include more pictures like this one:

I am particularly amused by the contrast of a "Stop/Control" sign in the middle of the wild.

Perhaps the best part is that even while I’m on a plane or away from internet, or perhaps even after I’ve returned from this trip, you will continue to receive new posts.  All of this is of course only beneficial to you if you actually like what you’re reading, but since you’re here and you’re reading, I’m going to go ahead and take that leap of faith.  Big of me, eh?

Transportation:

***There once was a girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead.  When she was good, she was very very good.  When she was bad, she was horrid!!***

Perhaps we will begin with the very very good, and later move on to the horrid.

The roads of Tajikistan, from my experience, are much like the girl in the nursery rhyme.  For the most part they are remarkably well cared for and many are quite new.  The main road from Dushanbe to Khujand is a toll road and it seems that these fees/tariffs/taxes, as they are interchangeably referred, are actually put to good use.  This, however, can be a bit of a problem.  While the road is in good condition and relatively free of livestock, it still climbs through a 4,000 meter elevation mountain range.  The condition of the road is so good that there doesn’t seem to be any reason to slow down … until you’re already on top of a hairpin turn, with oncoming traffic, about to barrel off the side of a cliff. 

This was a wreck that had clearly been there for a long time.  This not only made me more scared, but also highlighted the point that if you do go off the side of the road, unless you make it very clear that you’re still in the car and need assistance, there’s no real guarantee that anyone’s coming to help you.

Side note:  On our return trip, we did see an accident.  A tractor trailer truck carrying liquid gas was unsuccessful in navigating one of the turns.  The truck rolled down the hill, past the next road, further down the hill and across the subsequent road to land on the shoulder/river bank.  Thank god it was a single car accident and none of the gas ignited.  I should also note that the accident was pretty recent and the police were there in force.  To their credit they were investigating almost immediately. 

I would say that Americans in general are a bit squeamish when it comes to road safety.  We like everything to be clean, without debris, at slow speeds, with no distractions.  Likewise, everyone travelling in a row, with extra wide lanes and a wide shoulder is appreciated.  This does, of course, set us up to be horrified by driving conditions in most other parts of the world.

When the trip began, I rather prided myself on my calm composed demeanor despite the high speeds and lack of attention to what was technically “on the road” and what was maybe not quite as much within its boundaries.   Afterall, I have been on roads where you travel at 60+ miles per hour despite potholes and herds of sheep.  I have even had the opportunity of being borderline kidnapped and raced up and down the Amalfi coast in Italy on roads that had similar cliffs that fell straight into the water by an old man who most probably was not sober.  This should be a piece of cake. 

However, I think this is the first time I’ve been in a situation like this and I’ve screamed.  I screamed more than once.  In my defense, the two other Tajik men in the car with us also became upset and were quite adamant that the driver should perhaps slow down and be careful or at least I assumed that's what it meant as we approached each turn they began to chant "стой!  стой! стой! стой!".  On more than once occassion we were going so fast the car slid sideways around the curve, wheels screaching.  In my experience, when the locals – the ones who are supposed to be accustomed to the way things are here – when they are also making comments like, “I’m still young.  There are so many things I want to do and see in my life, perhaps we should get there alive” then I think it is reasonable to be outwardly concerned.  And this is why perhaps nice smooth roads are not always the best situation.

** This post was written and is being published after both the outbound and return trip.  I will not make the same trip, or have anymore long drives with the same driver.**

The White Ninja rides again!!!

Seriously, do I need to write anything more than that?!  Happy Friday the 13th!

Ice Cream Trucks and Bread Sellers

There is something comforting and wholesome about a child's excitement for the song of an ice cream truck.  Even as an adult without children in tow, the song will bring a smile to my face.  In addition to the joy of a memory, such deliveries mark the passage of time.  Growing up the sound of our postman dropping mail in the mailslot meant it was 10am; the ice cream truck's song was 3pm.  In my neighborhood in Dushanbe there is a boy who sells bread door to door each morning.  Here, it is 7am when the bread seller goes by. 

In a world where I'm never quite certain of what time it is and which timezone my brain is currently in, I take the same comfort from a young boy chanting something nearly unintelligible (although perhaps perfectly understandable to someone who knows what he's saying) as he walks through the neighborhood.  I only assume he's selling bread based on the size and shape of the neatly wrapped parcel he draws behind himself in something vaguely resembling a wagon.  Truth be told, he could just as easily be selling cheese or heroin.  I assume it's not the latter based on the lack of enthusiasm or disdain of the rest of the neighborhood - but I digress.

For someone who wakes up at 4am and does not physically report to work until 9, 10, or even 11am, this little soldier of time dutifully chanting his way through the neighborhood announces the morning and ushers in society's start to the day.  He is the foreshadowing of social interaction to come; the warning that it is time to focus less on productivity and more on preparing to face the world. 

This of course is not everyone's interpretation of his cries.  While to me his voice signifies the waking of the world in a near Disney, bird singing, Cinderella-esque fashion, for my colleague it is less of a call to fellowship and more like the incessant buzz of an alarm clock after a very short night.  This child both loved and hated interrupts peaceful morning slumber to nag those in earshot reminding them of their daily duties.

Such a lofty and impactful profession this little boy holds, all while imagining he is only a seller of bread (heroin). 

Today I learned:

... that while I am not skilled at speaking Russian, like a small child, I can absorb most of what is intended - so long as we're talking about food or the whereabouts of colleagues.

... that a white crystallized block on which I can read the word "iodine" kept in the kitchen cupboard is close enough to salt that I'll trust it in my soup.

... that black dust in the same cabinet as the aforementioned white crystal is acceptably pepper and therefore trusted and consumed - as opposed to the tin in the same cupboard next to the tea labeled "special gun powder".  This will not be consumed.

... The feeling of "I did it all by myself" never really gets old.  In fact leaving the supermarket, having successfully purchased dinner without having to ask for help, my heart was beating out of my chest as though I had just peered off the edge of a cliff.

... that it isn't always good to have a dog befriend you and follow you home*.  Especially when home is on the other side of a very busy highway. 

... that the upload speeds for my internet are not such that google voice is a very good option for talking but it's a GREAT option for laughing until my face hurts.  While I can hear you more clearly than I could on a cell phone, I am apparently rendered mute.

*no animals were harmed in the making of this post. 

The facade's facade

There are so many places in the world with distinct architectural styles.  When presented with a picture of a city, just by analyzing the structures that humans create upon the earth one can pin point the city's location and sometimes even the year in which certain structures were created. 

I had a conversation with a friend this summer that probably would not be very popular with many of my friends and fellow travelers.  It seems that in any new place a traveler may go he is compelled by some force or another to tour the architecture.  In our cases those forces are almost never internal.  An overly excited local resident, fellow travel companion or tour guide attempting to do her due diligence will impress upon us the importance of noticing this curve or that buttress as though it were the defining characteristic of any society worth noticing.  Quite frankly ... I just don't find it that interesting.  Yes, I do like seeing the shape of a city and noticing the nuances of style and I do find the structures we create to be both impressive and interesting.  I do not find spending hours analyzing these structures and their timing to be as fantastic as it is often made out to be.

All that said, I have recently found an technique that caught my attention and I thought was worth sharing.  Please be warned that this post risks becoming overly intellectual and perhaps a little confusing.  Below is an example of the decorative work, but I assure you the picture does not fully express the revelation that I had:

Notice the trim around the door frame, and the crown moulding.  While this may seem like ordinary house-finishing-touch type stuff, that is where the magic comes from.  It was explained to me yesterday as "Poliplast".  This roughly translates to: Styrofoam.  That's right.  The crown moulding here is Styrofoam.  And not just here in my apartment ... but also decorating the government office windows and teller desks.  In order to add to the magic, it isn't universal.  While this stuff is carved and decorating in many locations all over Tajikistan, it is frequently interchanged with real wood.  With every finished edge of man made structure, one never knows just what medium one will find.

Another fine example of the Styrofoam moulding in my apartment:

I hope you have enjoyed this discovery nearly as much as I have (although I highly doubt it).  Please also know that I am giggling at the fact that you actually made it this far into this ridiculously silly post.  Some people will read anything!

Love, love, love.
The Writer.