Tag: asia

Central Asia, Part 4: Bukhara, Uzbekistan

Hey! Hi! SUP. Yo. You’re reading about a trip that took place 9 months ago (May – June 2015), which means that I am sadly no longer in Central Asia. However, the trip was awesome enough that I feel compelled to write about it in a series of blog posts, because it’s unsurprisingly … kind of difficult to write about three different countries and so many different experiences’ worth of text and consolidate that sucker into one blog entry. Also, I’m likely a) nostalgic, b) itching to travel again, c) guilty about having so many orphaned photos on my HD, or d) all of the above. HERE WE GO.


Only one of two doubly landlocked countries in the world, Uzbekistan had been a mainstay on my travel bucket list for years (ever since it occurred to me that I should keep track of the places I want to visit), and while there’s something satisfying about crossing a destination off your bucket list and visiting a country with so much culture and history to offer, let’s not front: it was one of the hardest countries I’ve ever visited. There are so many barriers (yes, including literal barriers) to entry that it’s nearly impossible to be 100% go-with-the-flow or play-it-by-ear here.

Entry visa: The Stans already are scarcely visited compared to other countries, and it doesn’t help that a lot of them require advance visas. The only thing worse than endless paperwork is the paranoia when you mail off your passport to a total stranger for an indefinite amount of time, with no clue whether or not they’ll send it back because you incorrectly filled out your host’s address.

Language barrier: I’m a naturally awkward person, even in English, but the quickest and easiest way to make me even more awkward than I already am is to make me play charades in a foreign country because I don’t know the native language. With languages on the Germanic and Romance side of things, I can rely on loose cognates if I’m reading. With countries that have a strong public transportation infrastructure accompanied by intuitive visual cues, like all those subway lines in Tokyo or Seoul, it doesn’t matter if I can’t read a lick of it, because I can rely on signs ev-er-y-where. However, take those two things away from me, and all you have is me looking utterly dumbfounded because I don’t know how to speak any Slavic language, let alone pretend because I can’t even read in Cyrillic. My friend and travel buddy knows Russian, so thankfully I got around just fine (bless her!), but I can safely say that this was by far the worst language barrier I’ve yet to overcome.

Keep track of everything: This sounds like a given, but it’s more than just watching over your purse to make sure you don’t get pickpocketed. Every single night, I had to have some official documentation of where I stayed. Hostel? I needed the official stamp for every night of my visit. Overnight train ride? I had to guard that train ticket stub like it was a national treasure. While this all amounts to a lot of loose scraps of paper in your purse, the border guards actually check all this shit by the time you leave Uzbekistan.

Declare your money: No, really. This is a woefully bureaucratic chore that will atrophy your entire brain, but border guards take it a million times more seriously than you normally would that it makes filing expense reports look like a walk in the park. This actually doesn’t seem like a hard task, if it weren’t for Uzbek soms being so hyperinflated that $200 USD (which covers food + day-to-day tourism costs comfortably for a week) equates to almost 284,000 Uzbek som.

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…aka good luck keeping track of those stacks of money.

And yep, border guards actually make you go through the mindnumbing process of declaring all your money. Every last som.

Entering the country: So you got your entry visa. You have enough space in your bag to carry enough stacks of cash to make you feel like you pulled off a successful bank heist. You have space for all your hostel stamps and train ticket stubs. You know some Russian or Uzbek, or are at least cool with faking it. Great! Now prepare to spend three hours chilling at the border. Bonus points if you bring your laptop with you, and they make you open every file on your computer to make sure you’re not carrying porn or anti-Islamic content. Bonus points if you don’t know any Russian or Uzbek, which makes the whole lost-in-translation thing even more hilarious by comparison. And even more bonus points if you manage to do this all at the crack of dawn, in which case you can feel like a total champ by the time you actually step foot in Uzbekistan.

Phew.

At any rate, I hope my long-winded User’s Guide to Entering Uzbekistan hadn’t scared you off from planning a Central Asia trip, because Uzbekistan has a lot to offer if you’re willing to make all the commitments and jump all the bureaucratic hurdles. You just gotta, well, work for it. Rebekah and I took the land border crossing from Kyrgyzstan to Kazakhstan to Tashkent, went through that aforementioned excruciatingly long border control process, took an overnight train to Bukhara, and made our way from Bukhara to Samarkand to Tashkent. If you want to see all the cultural delights of the Timurid Empire in a logically sound order, I’d recommend this route.

After spending a day in Tashkent getting our bearings, passing GO and collecting our $200 (I mean — going to the bank and collecting 284,000 Uzbek som, cough), we took the overnight train from Tashkent to Bukhara. Nothing too fancy — the cabins were comparable to an economy cabin in a Chinese train.

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While I’ll ramble more about Tashkent (and Samarkand!) in a later post, I’ll talk more about our “first” stop of the Uzbekistan adventures, Bukhara, which is the embodiment of a medieval city in Central Asia. I mean, come on, the City Centre was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so if you want culture without the incessant crowds, this is the place. Anyway, a bit of history: Bukhara was a major spot on the Silk Road, even though humans have been inhabiting the region for at least 5,000 years. In its heyday, it was an intellectual hotspot of the Islamic world, if the number of gorgeously constructed mosques and madrassas doesn’t give it away.

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For all its renown both past and present, Bukhara is a city so quiet that it could pass as a ghost town, and you’d be hard-pressed to find a lot of bustle, even in the city center. The overall vibe is switched down a notch or two, and you’ll find most of the crowds peak around the afternoon, when all the families gather, but even so, the city never quite reaches critical mass. There are markets where you must bargain to avoid feeling like you’re getting ripped off, but none of the loud, squawking haggling. There are beautiful mosques and minarets that beg for photos (and, yes, selfies), yet you won’t find any tourists trying to finagle a GoPro here. Many of the domed bazaars are left open and waiting for you to wander in. Everything can be explored easily (and quite comfortably!) by foot, and vehicles are an uncommon sight.

Maybe it was the lack of people that made me pay more attention to minute things like the weather, but of all the places I hit up during my Central Asia trip, Bukhara was the one city where it was obvious that we were in a desert and gosh, was it balls hot. Even in mid-May, the bulk of Central Asia adopts a sweltering summer-like weather that’s a far cry from the coldness people typically expect from former Soviet republics.

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The first day was spent traipsing around the Po-i-Kalyan Complex, famous for the triple Ms: madrasa, minaret, and mosque.

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Legend has it that Genghis Khan found the Kalyan minaret (above) so impressive, that he ordered it to be spared while everything surrounding it was to be destroyed.

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Come on, doesn’t that mosque courtyard look so freaking posh?!

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I can’t even begin to tell you how many detail shots I took of all the buildings here. Just look at them jewel tones.

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Bukhara isn’t really known for its pubcrawls; this bar near Lyabi-Hauz in particular felt absolutely deserted when we stopped in for a pint. But hey, more Baltika for us! And pistachios! And that infamous kurut that I thought I had left behind in Kyrgyzstan!

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Snacks were had at the Silk Road Tea House, where we spent the better part of a lazy May afternoon reading while sipping saffron and ginger teas. Pumpkin spice lattes did not belong here.

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Overall, our stay in Bukhara was slow, but the easy, relaxing kind of slow where you don’t feel pressured to visit Tourist Destination #2958394. Uzbekistan doesn’t have that fast-paced life that tends to dictate a lot of tourist-centric travel. Maybe it was already enough that we were in a place that felt like it had been directly culled from 15th century — either way, it was a lovely balance between something new and something relaxing, especially after spending time in bigger cities and, well, a yurt.

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Central Asia, Part 2: Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan

Hey! Hi! SUP. Yo. You’re reading about a trip that took place 6 months ago (May – June 2015), which means that I am sadly no longer in Central Asia. However, that trip was awesome enough that I feel compelled to write about it in a series of blog posts, because it’s unsurprisingly … kind of difficult to talk about three different countries’ worth of text and photos and consolidate that sucker into one blog entry. Also, I’m likely a) nostalgic, b) itching to travel again, c) guilty about having so many orphaned photos on my HD, or d) all of the above. Anyway, let’s do this, before I start getting random plov cravings.

Also, larger versions of all the photos can be found in my Kyrgyzstan photoset.


Yo, listen. Before I descend into gratuitous wordvom about the awesomeness of my Kyrgyzstan leg of the trip, I’m going to cut to the chase and give you the key takeaway:

I CAMPED IN A YURT.

Awwwww yeah, das right. I was in a yurt, and it was every bit as awesome as it sounds. I love camping in the traditional “let’s camp out in the woods!” sense, but goddamn if it isn’t annoying to pitch a tent every time. Plus, given the choice between a flimsily-built tent in the middle of the woods and A MOTHERFUCKING YURT SURROUNDED BY MOUNTAINS IN KYRGYZSTAN, it’s pretty obvious which one’s the superior choice.

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Okay, micdrop done.

Anyway! For those wanting to travel to Central Asia like that bitchin’ landscape above, Kyrgyzstan’s a solid gateway into the area. In most cases, you can easily get a visa on arrival, because the entrance requirements in Kyrgyzstan have the most chill compared to all the other -stans.

I arrived into Kyrgyzstan via marshrutka, from good ol’ Almaty into Bishkek. Marshrutkas are shared taxicabs, but unlike Lyft Line or Uberpool, they’re older vans and the route is pretty fixed, seeing as it doesn’t get more straightforward than Almaty → Bishkek. Overall, it took about 3 hours, though there was no way I was keeping track, having been jetlagged to the ends of the earth and running on a grand total of one cup of coffee. In all my sleep deprivation, I vaguely remember getting dropped off at the Kazakhstan exit border, communicating back and forth between Rebekah and the border guard about my passport, and having to repeat the same process as we crossed the no-man’s land and officially entered Krygzystan. I also remember drizzle and rain, which is irrelevant in the big picture, but seemed kinda relevant at the time, as we were trying to locate our marshrutka and not look like drowned rats.

Some small amount of paperwork later and another taxi ride to Rebekah’s place, and we were settled in Bishkek! Huzzah!

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Cue hallelujah music.

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Bishkek is a solid square one for a Central Asian trip. It’s a relatively new city, with a mixture of Soviet brutalist architecture and tree-lined boulevards and bazaars (the first of many) and the walkability of a small town. One of our first stops was Osh Bazaar, one of the larger marketplaces where you can buy every local product under the sun.

There are the safe bets, like nuts and dried fruit (highly recommended, by the way!) —

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— and then there are the more adventurous options, such as kurut.


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It’s safe to say that kurut is an acquired taste, because if you can imagine a white gumball-sized chalk-textured sphere of cheese that tastes like solidified expired yogurt with a slightly dairy aftertaste, then you can guess that this is not one of those love-at-first-taste foods. Luckily, I had a pack of Tic-Tacs that we all desperately needed after we each downed one ball like it was a shotglass. You can tell that I’m really selling this.

Safe to say, I stuck with the almonds after that — and pistachios, like Exhibit A below:

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Touted as the “best ice cream in Central Asia”, Fresco is an ice cream truck situated a few blocks away from Dubovy Oak Park. The ice cream has a gelato-esque consistency but they use local ingredients, such as this awesome pistachio flavor.

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For a bit of Americana out here, there’s the Obama Bar & Grill, a recent establishment named after good ol’ Barack and furnished with various Obama paraphernalia. Fun fact: there was, indeed, a Putin Pub just across the street, but by the time I had arrived, they had already been shuttered for months (at the behest of the Russian authorities, I hear).

Ala-Too Square, the centerpiece of the Bishkek city proper:

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And just so we have the obligatory food shot, this here is lagman (derived from the Chinese 拉面 / la mian — sound familiar?) from Chaikhana Jalal-Abad. Think thick, hand-pulled noodles topped with chopped peppers and a sauce of equal parts spicy and salty. Carb heaven, pretty much.

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Also, the yurt is getting its own post because it was that freaking cool.

Central Asia, Part 1: Almaty, Kazakhstan

Hey! Hi! SUP. Yo. You’re reading about a trip that took place 6 months ago (May – June 2015), which means that I am sadly no longer in Central Asia. However, that trip was awesome enough that I feel compelled to write about it in a series of blog posts, because it’s unsurprisingly … kind of difficult to talk about three different countries’ worth of text and photos and consolidate that sucker into one blog entry. Also, I’m likely a) nostalgic, b) itching to travel again, c) guilty about having so many orphaned photos on my HD, or d) all of the above. Anyway, let’s do this, before I start getting random plov cravings.


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When I told people where I went for summer vacation, the response I gave was … probably not what they were expecting.

OTHER PERSON: “Oh, where’d you go?”
ME: “Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Uzbekistan.”
OTHER PERSON: ………..o wow

And this usually prompts the question: So why did I want to go to Central Asia?

See below:

A photo posted by Cindy (@cindypepper) on

Registan Square had always been a staple on my travel bucket list since I was in high school, back when I owned a hardcover book of 100 places I had to see before I dropped dead or else my life would amount to some meaningless existence, but hopefully less drastic. Known as the “noblest public square in the world”, Registan’s all the way in Uzbekistan, a country which happens to hold many distinctions, such as one of two doubly landlocked countries in the world and one of a few countries on my Places I’d Love to Visit that Happen to be Infeasibly Far Away list. Convincing myself to go wasn’t hard. History, mountains, architecture, the far-removal from my current state — there was a lot I wanted to explore, but translating that want into plane tickets and a passport stamp takes a lot more gusto and tedious paperwork than just imagining it in your head.

Flashback to fall 2014.

My friend Rebekah had gotten accepted for a Fulbright in Kyrgyzstan last year, and when we realized that 1) Kyrgyzstan was pretty darn close to Uzbekistan and 2) we both wanted to go to Uzbekistan, like, really fucking badly, it didn’t take long for us to create a Google Doc and throw in all the places we wanted to visit. Azerbaijan! Turkmenistan! Kazakhstan! The less fun stuff, like calculating vacation days and visa restrictions, began to factor in. Eventually, we whittled down our two-week itinerary to Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Uzbekistan, tossing in ideas here and there as the months passed by, until we came up with the following: we’d spend some time in Almaty, chill at Rebekah’s place in Bishkek, go horseback riding and camp in a yurt near the Ala-Too mountains, and hit up the Uzbek trifecta of Bukhara – Samarkand – Tashkent. Phew.

We did all of those things and then some — I mean, I camped in a frickin’ yurt, for crying out loud. I had what was probably my most difficult experience getting lost in translation. I visited Samarkand and was, yes, in total awe. And hey, if my first 36 hours of travelling were any indication, this was one hell of a trip. This is how it got started, all the way back in May.

THURSDAY, 6PM: Spend the night before and all day relentlessly packing. Buy speculoos for Rebekah and silently hope they don’t get squashed in my luggage. Board the flight from SFO to Istanbul.

FRIDAY, 5PM: Arrive in Istanbul. Kill 3 hours by grabbing a quick and predictably uneventful dinner at the airport.

FRIDAY, 9PM: Fly out to Almaty. Sleep it out.

SATURDAY, 5AM: Arrive in Almaty at 5am (yes, local time), which means poor Rebekah has to get up (or not get up) at butt-o’clock to come pick me up. I honestly do not envy the Turkish Airlines pilots who have to fly at ungodly hours, because how do you fly at 3am HOW.

Almaty is — crazily enough — only three hours away from Bishkek (over in Kyrgyzstan), which is actually the total amount of time I spend on my work commute every day. Not only does this make me cringe about the percentage of my life I have spent to-and-from San Francisco and Mountain View, but it makes me sigh at the proximity of all these cities and countries compared to the congested, big ass state that is California.

SATURDAY, 6AM: Drop off your stuff and freshen up with a shower. Bruteforce the jetlag out of your system by walking around Almaty at the crack of dawn on a Saturday. Marvel — in your bleary-eyed state, of course — at the suspiciously clean streets, the wide sidewalks with the overhanging trees, the cleanly marked bike lanes that far outclass those of San Francisco and even Portland, the balmy weather, and the silence unusual for any big city. Recognize how hungry you are but can’t really do anything about it, because nothing’s open — yet.

SATURDAY, 7AM: Walk along Arbat, a wide pedestrian street normally known for its shopping and cafés, but it’s too early for that kind of hustle and bustle. Head to the Green Bazaar (Zelionyj Bazaar), where local goods and produce are sold and haggled. Sample nuts, dried fruit, qurt (grape-sized balls of dried yogurt), Korean salads, and tandyr nan.

SATURDAY, 8AM: Walk around the Respublika Alany and get a kick out of the Zailysky Alatau mountain range peaking out from the building silhouettes and clouds. Stop by the Presidential Palace. Don’t crane your neck too hard as you stare up at the Independence Monument. Check out that winged snow leopard, though.

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SATURDAY, 9AM: Get a bit of fresh air as you stroll/walk/run through Panfilov Park. Draw your eyes towards the Ascension Cathedral (Zenkov Cathedral), which looks like a sister to St. Basil’s and is too hard to miss with all those Disney-like whimsical colors and patterns. Realize that the entire cathedral is made of wood and later find out that it’s the second tallest wooden building in the world.

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Make your way to the very heart of the park, where the Panfilov heroes are commemorated in a series of WWII monuments.

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SATURDAY, 10:30 AM: Get nourishment in the form of brunch, now that cafés are opening up. Realize exactly how sophisticated Almaty is, from all the many shopping centers to the wide tree-lined sidewalks to the terraced cafés to the ultra-new subway system. Order some coffee to get some caffeine into your system, because you’ll need it for the ride into Kyrgyzstan.

SATURDAY, 1PM: Grab your bags, get on the marshrutka (a shared mini-bus/van hybrid) for a three-hour ride across the Kazakh-Kyrgyz border into Bishkek. Welcome to Central Asia, kid. The day’s barely halfway over and your trip’s just getting started.