A Day in Dushanbe

I arrived from my epic road trip pretty late at night, and unfortunately, I hadn’t had internet for the last few days, so I was at the mercy of my travel book for a place to stay. It mentioned that there weren’t really any hostels in this town yet (…) so I opted for the cheapest hotel listed. Upon arrival they wanted to charge twice that amount, I talked them down (didn’t know I could do that at a hotel haha), and I was relieved I at least had a place to stay the night. The wifi was functional…but the water wasn’t (?!). Really too bad for a pricey hotel.

Today I woke up, and took a walk around the city's botanical gardens next door, which was the one convenient things about his hotel. Beautiful morning, and a gorgeous park with about 4 weddings going on in random places. So nice to see! Then I caught a taxi to the hostel I found online.

Park/Garden, Dushanbe, Tajikistan

Hostels are a tricky business. I can’t imagine running one (OK maybe I could a little), and people certainly have an idea about how they are. This usually involves imagining 50 20-somethings screaming at the top of their lungs, smoking cigarettes into the vents, and throwing furniture out windows. While, this may rarely be the case (that was an actual description of a hostel I stayed at in Barcelona), most are pleasant places to recharge and meet other travelers. Occasionally we stumble on a really, really comfy place that has a naturally refreshing feel to it. Today I found such a hostel. It’s spacious, comfortable, quiet, and the travelers here are all on pretty cool journeys with really great perspectives. It’s nice to be in good company and a clean, comfortable oasis.

For the first time on this trip, I met a fellow American traveler (not expat). We had that shared "hey-thats-MY-accent moment", and we hit it off just like the red white and blue on our flag. A California gal with a classic valley accent (sorry had to throw that in there =P), we chatted about our travels in the area, our thoughts on the people, cultures, soviet influence (don’t expect this theme to disappear), and how american’s perspectives are limited in this regard. It was a great conversation! We decided to hit up the city and take a look around.

Dushanbe exceeded my expectations (which, weren’t really anything, cause I had nothing to go on). It has a beautiful surrounded-by-hills setting, and is chuck full of beautiful parks, cafes, monuments, and of course, a sweet bazaar. I appreciate the muslim influence in the city, as that makes people considerably respectful and easy to get along with. Amy and I put food on the priority list, and meandered over to the bazaar, where we split/explored about 6 different variations of meat and cabbage fried in dough. We then headed to the fruit section, where we decided we were both lacking various vitamins in our recents diets. A purchasing of clementines (tangerines? idk), cherries, grapefruit, and pomegranate juice ensued. A special shout out to the pomegranate juice maker, who, after our ordering, had to take the extra time to put on his juice-making jacket, button it up, and get to work. It was hilarious in the moment. We then found a popular little stall with another fried something situation, and what can only be described as, well, corndogs. People were crowding this stall and destroying said corndogs with this lady’s special dipping sauce. Who would’ve thought? Well, naturally, I joined in the feast. Finally, we tried theTajik street food version of fish and chips, which had surprisingly good fries, and remarkably bony fish (kind of expected). We topped it off with some cherry juice, and a general prayer to hope that today’s food-venture won’t result in our eventual sickness, dehydration, and deaths.

Downtown Dushanbe

THE food stall

Feeling well fed and generally anxious regarding our culinary decisions, we walked to the city center. Here lies a collection of massive statues, government buildings, and (what was…) the world’s tallest flagpole. The grounds of the park were beautiful, the sun was out (OK it was kinda brutally hot), and we generally had a nice time (even though our hunt for chocolate ice cream was in vain). And I have to mention, this flag pole is remarkably tall. I couldn’t stop standing underneath it with my neck craned up; it was ridiculous, and I loved it. After the park, we found a nice cafe to sit and relax while we waited out a sudden and unexpected thunderstorm, and then it was back to the hostel.

541' Flagpole

All in all, I love when a place exceeds what I expect of it. Of course, this is easy to accomplish when our expectations are limited in the first place. And that brings up the thought that so much of traveling places is having an idea of what it’s going to be like, and so much of our experience is based on how reality meets up with that expectation, both for good or for bad. I guess what I’m getting at is that it’s much more enjoyable to be excited for a place, but to go at it mostly with a clean slate. Dushanbe is such a beautiful city, and I’m really glad I swung by this way.

This is also the first time that I’ve met multiple travelers in one place, as opposed to just one or two. There are two Croatians, a Chinese guy, two Tajik guys (have interviews tomorrow in Dushanbe), a Korean girl, and of course, the two Americans. There is something refreshing, enjoyable, and really fun about meeting and swapping stories and travel advice. The majority of travelers (especially who make it out this direction) are generally laid back, enjoy-the-moments kind of people (with a touch of street smarts and problem solving), with a great body of perspective that makes for fantastic conversation. We spent the night eating, drinking and talking about government systems, language, education, cuisine, history, eachther/our hobbies, and everything in between. There’s a common thread and it’s a blast to be a part of it.

I guess this is all just another lesson that travels reminds me of- here’s to good friends, and unexpected places we love. I hope I can continue to find the time to enjoy wherever I’m at, take a look around, and find people to make that experience better. Enjoy the Journey!

-BK

The Road to Dushanbe: Me and The Ladies

Khorog to Dushanbe

I’ve covered a lot of ground over the years. I’ve had some amazing opportunities, and always had a thing for getting out onto remote raids and seeing epic scenery. I perhaps was on one of the more scenic roads I’ve covered in my travels (at least top 5, we’ll say). Maybe it was the ‘off-the-beaten-path’ aspect, perhaps it was the fact I was bordering Afghanistan by maybe 100 meters most of the time, or maybe it was the energetic crowd I was with for the 15 hours journey. Sometimes you have days that just go really, really well. I had a great travel day.

The start:

Getting up at the crack of dawn in Khorog, I went outside to meet :whoever: was suppose to meet me at 6am to bring me to Dushanbe. This was via the driver I had from Murghab ro Khorog, who said his friend would meet me. When 6:15 rolled by (and given my previous lesson in Murghab), I placed out and started heading toward the little bus station. En route, parked in a more residential area was a short, stocky, pleasant faced guy packing up his LandCruiser. “Dushanbe?”- he asked. “Da, Dushanbe!”. We bonded. We loaded up my things a top the car, and waited for the next 6 passengers.

The people:

First was a pleasant lady who came with her mother to see her off. Next, came two ladies, each with a kid (about 4 and 6), but who seemed to kinda all come together. And a couple minutes later, fashionably late, came an ancient woman who, as she stepped into the courtyard, exclaimed something to which everybody erupted into laughter. You see, this matriarch was the mother of the two women, and obviously, those were her grandkids.

One of the daughters spoke a little english, but we quickly left english anyway and just preceded in Russian and hand motions. We covered all the basics: where I’m from, why I’m not married and where are my children?, what I do, etc. The Queen mother was highly pleased when she learned I was a medical student. It turns out she has quite the story. This lady is a traidiontal Tajik (well, Pamiri) dancer/singer, whose career over the years has taken her to England, all over mainland Europe, Moscow (where she owns a home- and her granddaughter studies medicine there), Afghanistan, and the whole region here. She was, in fact, just performing in Khorog. Cue the music and the dancing. She was hilarious, and a ball of energy.

An honorable mention to the kids, who were naturally adorable, but also a lot of fun to play with. When we were stopped to fix our flat tire, we entered into a fierce sequence of word-less games, which won over not just them, but the mothers and Queen Royal as well.

Now, I won’t pretend to know much about the inner workings of a woman’s mind, but I can make some geernal observations, and I an at least say that there are some incredible similarities between women everywhere. Examples: approximately every 10-15 minutes, they would erupt into scolding the driver for :something:, and then we’d all algae about it. At one point he stopped for lunch, and they ordered him to go inside and see what’s on the menu first (this was a first in all my vehicle rides). He reported, to which the Queen B exclaimed “NE!! something something”…and off we went to find a better place, about 2 hours later (and it was much, much better with outside seating, etc).

The Route:

It’s no secret that I’m traversing the Pamir Highway, the famed M41 through the Pamir mountains, starting (the most inclusive list) from Mazar-i-Sharif to Osh. Obviously doing it backwards, but last I checked, the road is two ways. It’s a winding, sometimes paved, sometimes mud, and everything in between road that crosses gorges, rivers, and climbs into the top of the mountains (in my case, starts from the latter and goes into the gorges and valleys). We in fact took a detour off the M41 itself, and stayed on the border of Afghanistan for basically as long as possible. It was stunning to watch as the Afghan peaks met the Tajik peaks with this turquoise river in between. What started in Khorog as a simple river bed evolved into a massive gorge and canyon complex that we were driving along one side of. I got to see it slowly pour into the valley that is central Tajikistan, and it was simply beautiful.

The journey include paved sections that we cruised along on, narrow dirt/rocky ledges, construction vehicles, cattle, to that-dump-truck-is-stuck-in-the-mud-and-we-can’t-go-until-he’s-out. The driver acted as DJ and we had a constant supply of mostly Russian/Pamiri/Tajik/Kyrgyz/Arabic songs , with the occasional American pop. The driver would stop at road-side stalls to buy treats for the car. The ladies brought snacks. I had a seemingly endless supply of dried apricots, some dried berry item, and an unidentified plant, with a delightedly tangy flavor. We ate, we sang, danced, talked, and mostly laughed for essentially the whole journey.

Occasionally we have days that are simply…great. There’s no great lesson to be learned or one things that made it so. It’s just a combination of “just right” that puts a smile on your face, and in our case, made 15 hours seem not that bad. I guess when seeking out the rare and out-there, what makes us the most happy is the comfortable and right-here.

Will relax in Dushanbe tomorrow to have a look around and recoup before continuing South West. Until next time!

-BK