On the way back to Tashkent
After leaving Shakrisabz the plan was to go and do some horseriding in the mountains. It turned out though that the horseriding location did not open until the next day as Friday was the holiday Navruz. Navruz is the celebration of the New Year - it coincides with the Equinox, and is an important date in the lives of the Uzbeks.
We stopped again at the restaurant we had eaten the day before, but spent the few hours before lunch climbing. Here you see the pictures of the mountains that I took. In one you can see Namejs walking in his red shirt close up. In the next picture I took you can see how far away he actually if you look for the red speck. We took different paths up the hill, so I was on top while they were still walking below with Alex.
The next picture is one that Didzis took of a bird of prey circling on the winds above the mountains. We followed the bird's flight for quite a while.
All the way home we would see men and women walking in their finest clothes to get to Navruz gatherings. The women wore their velvet dresses with gold and silver brocading and would usually carry a bowl of plov covered and wrapped with a towel. The men would be wearing the Uzbek doppi - a square black hat - and walking either with their family or other groups of men. These people would be everywhere throughout the mountains - on the side of the road in random places as well as in the smaller towns.
At one location, on the top of a high point and separating the region of Samarkand and Shakrisabz, we saw a confluence of people meeting and greeting like long lost friends. I realized that with this day and the beginning of the spring, much of the hard and cold winter was signaled as ending. The people were coming and meeting probably for the first time since about November. Living in a city I forget the limitations placed on people in small mountain communities. Is is not always possible to drive to the next town - perhaps the weather does not allow it, or funding. Yet when it is spring life returns, so do the opportunities to meet one another. That also included locations for meeting. Many little restaurants along the way had been closed when we drove to Shakrisabz on Wednesday. On the way back they were open and actively doing business.
During the three hour drive, I had time to observe and contemplate my surroundings. I watched closely the terraced mountains, and realized that those terraces had been made not just recently, but hundreds of years ago. Donkeys and people had climbed those same mountains for the same purpose for centuries. The communities were still there, and besides the cars, electricity, and a few other amenities, life was generally the same. The people still dressed more traditionally than I have seen elsewhere in Uzbekistan (except the teeens). The houses are made of mud and hay bricks. The animals are still herded on the road, and drivers need to take care. The concrete jungles of large cities are not apparent here. People still live authentic lives with the same struggles of growing and caring for their families that the generations before had. It will be a loss to the world when these types of communities begin to disappear completely.
One scene that struck me all day, but that I was just not able to get a picture of, was the groups of men walking. There were two groups. The first most noticeable were old men with grey beards in chapans and doppi. You could see their pure enjoyment in being together in the small group walking and talking. Perhaps they were on the way to a mosque, or even a home to eat together. But there was something of their relationship present. Later, I realized that what was present was the fact that they have been taking this walk together most of their lives. This was made clear when I saw the young men walking together in much the same way. although without a doppi and in modern clothes. These young men were also happy to be together and smiling in friendship that can only be earned and gained through childhood.
It struck me that these young men would soon be the old men walking down the street. I wondered if they would wear their doppis in the future too, or if they would lose this part of the tradition. Thus, every group of men I saw walking became a more powerful representation of the traditions here. They represented both the past and future generations of people in this region.
Perhaps this is not something so spectacular for people who have lived in the same community for their entire lives. But for me, who has been transient most of her life, I wondered at how it was possible to know that you would be talking with the same people for the rest of your life. I wondered what they would speak about for that eternity that made them smile so deeply while in the presence of each other? Even the fleeting glimpses I had of their eyes made it clear that they were happy and satisfied with the lives that they have. I do not see this happiness much in the eyes of people in the socieities that are meant to be developed. The rush to earn, to see, to experience is so deeply entwined in our inner souls that we forget to just enjoy those simple moments of walking and talking with friends.
When I think about how many times I have heard that Uzbekistan is backwards, undeveloped, etc., I am amazed at how little we see beyond the cosmetic. Yes, Uzbek life is simple, but on this short trip I was given the opportunity to see that simple is also beautiful.
When we arrived in Samarkand we were going to try and have a cup of tea somewhere, but it turned out the whole central street was closed off for the Navruz celebration. We walked around a bit and caught a very loud Navruz celebration.
After a while we realized that it was time to catch the train home, and we all were happy to climb into our train seats and just sit and ride without much input. The kids continued to play nicely the entire way home. They had such a great time with the girls and the whole Ross family it was strange to be suddenly saying goodbye at the station. We were so used to being together. But we drove home and quickly got ready for bed. The boys passed out within a half hour. I stayed up and watched a bit of the Navruz celebration, but was soon in bed too.
This was the first holiday we have shared ever, as we could not afford to go on holidays while living in Latvia. It was a great experience and I fully expect to do it again in the future. The boys are joy to travel with, and we have lots of fun together.
We stopped again at the restaurant we had eaten the day before, but spent the few hours before lunch climbing. Here you see the pictures of the mountains that I took. In one you can see Namejs walking in his red shirt close up. In the next picture I took you can see how far away he actually if you look for the red speck. We took different paths up the hill, so I was on top while they were still walking below with Alex.
The next picture is one that Didzis took of a bird of prey circling on the winds above the mountains. We followed the bird's flight for quite a while.
All the way home we would see men and women walking in their finest clothes to get to Navruz gatherings. The women wore their velvet dresses with gold and silver brocading and would usually carry a bowl of plov covered and wrapped with a towel. The men would be wearing the Uzbek doppi - a square black hat - and walking either with their family or other groups of men. These people would be everywhere throughout the mountains - on the side of the road in random places as well as in the smaller towns.
At one location, on the top of a high point and separating the region of Samarkand and Shakrisabz, we saw a confluence of people meeting and greeting like long lost friends. I realized that with this day and the beginning of the spring, much of the hard and cold winter was signaled as ending. The people were coming and meeting probably for the first time since about November. Living in a city I forget the limitations placed on people in small mountain communities. Is is not always possible to drive to the next town - perhaps the weather does not allow it, or funding. Yet when it is spring life returns, so do the opportunities to meet one another. That also included locations for meeting. Many little restaurants along the way had been closed when we drove to Shakrisabz on Wednesday. On the way back they were open and actively doing business.
During the three hour drive, I had time to observe and contemplate my surroundings. I watched closely the terraced mountains, and realized that those terraces had been made not just recently, but hundreds of years ago. Donkeys and people had climbed those same mountains for the same purpose for centuries. The communities were still there, and besides the cars, electricity, and a few other amenities, life was generally the same. The people still dressed more traditionally than I have seen elsewhere in Uzbekistan (except the teeens). The houses are made of mud and hay bricks. The animals are still herded on the road, and drivers need to take care. The concrete jungles of large cities are not apparent here. People still live authentic lives with the same struggles of growing and caring for their families that the generations before had. It will be a loss to the world when these types of communities begin to disappear completely.
One scene that struck me all day, but that I was just not able to get a picture of, was the groups of men walking. There were two groups. The first most noticeable were old men with grey beards in chapans and doppi. You could see their pure enjoyment in being together in the small group walking and talking. Perhaps they were on the way to a mosque, or even a home to eat together. But there was something of their relationship present. Later, I realized that what was present was the fact that they have been taking this walk together most of their lives. This was made clear when I saw the young men walking together in much the same way. although without a doppi and in modern clothes. These young men were also happy to be together and smiling in friendship that can only be earned and gained through childhood.
It struck me that these young men would soon be the old men walking down the street. I wondered if they would wear their doppis in the future too, or if they would lose this part of the tradition. Thus, every group of men I saw walking became a more powerful representation of the traditions here. They represented both the past and future generations of people in this region.
Perhaps this is not something so spectacular for people who have lived in the same community for their entire lives. But for me, who has been transient most of her life, I wondered at how it was possible to know that you would be talking with the same people for the rest of your life. I wondered what they would speak about for that eternity that made them smile so deeply while in the presence of each other? Even the fleeting glimpses I had of their eyes made it clear that they were happy and satisfied with the lives that they have. I do not see this happiness much in the eyes of people in the socieities that are meant to be developed. The rush to earn, to see, to experience is so deeply entwined in our inner souls that we forget to just enjoy those simple moments of walking and talking with friends.
When I think about how many times I have heard that Uzbekistan is backwards, undeveloped, etc., I am amazed at how little we see beyond the cosmetic. Yes, Uzbek life is simple, but on this short trip I was given the opportunity to see that simple is also beautiful.
When we arrived in Samarkand we were going to try and have a cup of tea somewhere, but it turned out the whole central street was closed off for the Navruz celebration. We walked around a bit and caught a very loud Navruz celebration.
After a while we realized that it was time to catch the train home, and we all were happy to climb into our train seats and just sit and ride without much input. The kids continued to play nicely the entire way home. They had such a great time with the girls and the whole Ross family it was strange to be suddenly saying goodbye at the station. We were so used to being together. But we drove home and quickly got ready for bed. The boys passed out within a half hour. I stayed up and watched a bit of the Navruz celebration, but was soon in bed too.
This was the first holiday we have shared ever, as we could not afford to go on holidays while living in Latvia. It was a great experience and I fully expect to do it again in the future. The boys are joy to travel with, and we have lots of fun together.
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