All the President's Men

Reaching Bukhara from Samarkand, we found a hive of activity. The place was abuzz with police, street cleaners and security agents wearing blacks suits and white shirts in plus 40c heat. These men were hardly incognito. The President of Azerbaijan's visit to the ancient city was imminent. I must say that in 24 hours, the roads got painted, zebra crossings gleamed, the flower beds were stocked with colour and most of the roads were blocked off. 

A big regret. I didn't buy the sheep hat

This was effort on a grand scale. The centre of the old city is Disney-fied to the extreme. Renovations to buildings that had fallen into disrepair began in tbe 70s under Soviet rule but went on apace from the 90s onwards. It is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Ready for action

Flowers from far and wide planted together

The cities on the Silk Road are fully geared up for tourists. It only had the finishing touches added for the President's benefit. It is amazing and very neatly manicured. I know the Silk Road is essentially about retail but I am incredulous that anyone makes a living as there are stores galore in every corner. 

By the time I got to Bukhara, I felt a little domed-out. I had seen so many; and they are all so beautiful. The sheer amount is overwhelming. 

Moving on from Bukhara, we caught a Soviet style train through the Red Desert to Urgench and then immediately onwards to the desert by minibus to see a few of the one thousand fortresses that were established in the first century AD. This swathe of Asia has had upheaval and wars aplently throughout its long history. Then with Soviet control, the ethnic groups became mixed, religion was squashed and now it is peaceful. This is surprising considering its proximity to Afghanistan. 

I have found it hard to put into any order the rise and fall of so many little empires. The history goes back fifteen centuries where there are so many khans, rulers, tribes and shifting borders. Algorithms and algebra came from Khiva in the nineth century. Astronomy also had its grounding in the region through Ulugh Beg. These famous people have statues and mausoleums - so many that I hardly remember any.

Khiva

My holiday has gone by in a blur because of recerring tummy troubles. The low point was when I threw up in a plastic bag while travelling in the minibus. The bus stopped for me. I splattered the verge, knotted the bag up and held it for many more kilometers before I could find a bin just to uphold my green credentials. 

Now I am in Turkey. I am almost scared to order anything that might set me off again. My flight on Uzbek Airlines didn't help. Universally the food offered was rejected by everyone on the plane. Everyone wanted to get to the front, heave their heavy bags and ignore all other passengers and obstacles.

I tried to visit the loo. Queuing didn't help. Just when it was my turn, the staff asked me to move inside the food prep area so they could move the trolley. Two other people jumped in before me. I couldn't even claim my aisle seat. A hefty woman climbed on and over me three times to get into the aisle and then wanted me to get out of the way so she could get off the plane when there was no room for me to move anywhere. Being under the weather made this all the more irritating and I found myself resentful of the way people behave in some parts of the world. I tried to watch Wuthering Heights... aah... I never did get to finish it... I'll never know whether Cathy does meet Heathcliffe in the hereafter in this version... Hindley is MIA.

The plane landed. The pilot got a round of applause. Why? I am sure the President of Azerbaijan would have had edible food and a more restful flight. I can only tick this one off as one of the worst flights I have taken. EVER. 

My time in Turkey has been blessed yet again. This time I met up with Maram, a friend from Syria. We hit the high life visiting a hi tech toilet. It washed and dried you at the press of a couple of buttons.. Woohoo. Match that UK! Istanbul is party central. It lights up at night and everyone is out on the street - even police with guns! Perhaps there is a president lurking in the vicinity.

And now... onward... 

A Public Inconvenience

 I thought of calling this blog, "Toilets I have Known". Holidays inevitably require the use of public toilets. It is a popular topic of conversation and often the stuff of  holiday memories. Perhaps it is the wafting aroma or the design than lingers long in the memory. It may even be the location or the urgency with which you need to use the said public convenience. 

Whatever the reason, I can think back to holidays years ago and still remember some of the worst places imaginable to relieve myself. For a few days on this trip I have suffered from Delhi Belly. I think it might have been a hibiscus tea that triggered my angst in the first place but the effects have lingered long since. 

Many Asian toilets are no more than a hole in the ground over which you squat. This to the uninitiated means that you need to be cautious with your aim and this takes a little practice. I went to one toilet on a hill on the way to a waterfall. That one was black and very wet. It smelt so bad you could sense it was there before entering, the smell even wafted from the carpark. Then I went to one on the Kyrgystan Kazakhstan border. That was al-fresco and almost as bad. There were no doors! The through breeze reduced the intensity of the smell though. That was a blessing. There are others I could describe but I am sure you get the picture. There are certainly no electronic feedback boards near these toilets where you can leave a happy face, that is for sure. I am always inclined to hang on for a better place to go but with an upset tummy this isn't an option. 

Registan Square

I am writing this from Uzbekistan - a place where everything is clean. Nobody drops litter. The public toilets glow! In fact the toilets at the train station in Kazakhstan smelt of fresh bleach and were beautifully kept. They put toilets in the UK to shame. I have only been in Uzbekistan a short time but already I love it. I can tell the people love their country and rightly so. It is something to be proud of. The architecture is European, the streets are broad and the traffic flows. The train service runs on time too. It was only really Kyrgystan that was developing and in need of a leg up out of the three countries I am visiting.

I have also had to get used to the different exchange rates for the three countries too. We had som in Kyrgystan, Tenge in Kazakhstan and now so'm in Uzbekistan. The pronunciation of the currency sounds like the word for poison in Arabic. I am a millionaire still as the small notes have at least three zeros on them. Ticket offices are Kacca. Silly me for being amused by this!

Most of my pictures are of mosaics, mosques and madrasahs. Absolutely stunning and built with such skill, it is difficult not to take photos. We were treated to a light and laser show on the walls of Registan Square, acompanied by classical music and narrated by a voice like Tom Waits. Woohoo!

This is my holiday and while I'm loving it, I am unclear of about anything that is happening on World News. I bought a Ryoko so that I would be connected to the internet, as much for safety as anything else. Unfortunately, it has turned out to be a hopeless investment. It won't connect to the internet so I rely on hotel internet only. The Ryoko support asks me to try this and try that. Nothing works. It overheated to the point I thought it would catch fire and now it won'y turn on. Argh.... I am a wee bit concerned that I will need to make an emergency call or check something and I will be cut off from the world. It is a personal inconvenience.

I have been crossing borders as this vast empty part of the world needs long distance travel just to get between places. Even so, having been to a wonderful museum in Almaty, I realise how much I won't be able to see on this trip. One of my big things was to see Tamberlaine's tomb. I saw that on Saturday and it didn't disappoint. 

I still have a few days left and so much to pack in. Must dash!

No More Heroes

The group gathered under Lenin

Nothing to report. All is well in Kyrgystan. I landed on the August 13th to find it equally as hot as it is in England and also as dusty. My car I left back home has a blanket of dust which I see as a badge of honour to saving water! However, this is my holiday I am writing about and I have been excited about the Silk Road trip for a long time.

Eagle hunting

An eagle and me

After landing in intense heat, I had a brief respite in the hotel in Bishkek. The group introduced themselves and we set off for a guided whizz in the intense heat around the city. There are rather a lot of statues erected to the heroes of the country all built in the traditional Russian style. They all have solid marble plinths that must be at least 4 meters high. These statues represent the literary history, the heroism and sacrifice of war and the power of women who have held society together. We saw them all and there are a lot! So many, in fact, that I really can't imagine there being any room for another hero. On a later part of the trip, I saw a heroic truck high on a plinth. Perhaps I was wrong.

Vlad the Bad - AKA Lenin is a true hero in Kyrgystan. Apparently he made it safe for exiled citizens to return and reclaim their land. There are statues aplenty to him. There are one million inhabitants in Bishkek and it felt like every single one of them owns a car. The traffic around the city is slow moving and cars are parked in the usual Asian way which slows moving traffic even more. To be honest, Biskek is much like any average Asian city in its layout and jumbled housing construction. The highway roads are mostly unmade, making for a slow, bumpy ride. This is a country in the process of rapid development.

The leaning tower of Burana- I got to the top

In its history, Kyrgystan was a key part of the Silk Road and the locus of many battles. The Burana Tower was spared by Ghengis Khan as the occupants the city treated him as a favoured guest. The tower once lit the way for travellers sending their wares west.

The currency here is the som. I am a millionaire for the time being! All the big numbers take a little getting used to as does the Russian writing. Of course the alphabet is different to ours so deciphering names is a bit of a game. 

On street corners sit umbrella women who sell fermented grain and milk drinks for next to nothing. The drinks are lovely - a bit fizzy like kefir. Already I recognise the local beer and I have bought some local wine too. 

The small group of ten - all from the UK - but with one of them living in Singapore. Have gelled quite quickly. We have a planned itinerary and get around in a minibus with our tour guide, Vitaly. So far, I have spent a night in a yurt and swam in the Issyk-Kul Lake and now, Sunday, it is the last day of Kyrgystan. We happen to be staying in a most dire hotel. Dodgy shower, no towels to start with, patchy internet and generally quite shabby. Errr.

Tomorrow, Monday we are off to Kazakhstan and another currency challenge, new food to try and things to see.

Did I mention drinks?

Dedication to Duty

 

Roy Maidment- our postman

My village has a new postman. This normally wouldn't be newsworthy but as the last one had been delivering post for the past 53 years, there was cause for celebration. The village duly gathered at the local pub, along with fellow postal workers and the union rep to wish Roy, our postman, farewell. It was quite a big "do" with lots of speeches. At the send-off I found out that Roy was 79 years old and until very recently had been employed by the Royal Mail. He was forced to retire and had not been happy with the decision such was his dedication to duty. 

Apparently, the post is going to be delivered in a different way soon. This is what I was told by Roy's colleagues and they said that him retiring now is a good thing as the new system depended on the number of parcels delivered. EP a company run by a Czech billionaire now owns our postal service and it isn't like it once was. It is probably no longer "royal" anymore. I couldn't help asking if anyone at the depot was called Frank. I have always thought that any child given that name should be destined to work in a post office. There was no one. The men said that mothers still tell their children that all postmen are Postman Pat and that wasn't appreciated. 

The village where I live is quite special. The men at the "do" said they weren't of the right calibre to take on the job of delivering to my village. They said they could only aspire to get the gig. I love where I am and I know it is quite up-market but I didn't think it had such a reputation - even though they were joking. The one thing in the village that is special is the pub. If I mention my village, people will say, "Ah, I've been to the pub. It's lovely." And it is. It is never empty so it must be good. Sadly, the landlord is retiring in September so we'll have to get used to a new postman and a new landlord in the same year.

I also heard in the news this week that women race-cyclists are padding their bras to make them more aerodynamic when racing.  I never realised I had a natural advantage that aided my speed. This week, I went on a bike ride with my daughter, Danielle and my grand-daughter. 

Danielle and Mattaya en route

Most weeks I go for a long bike ride so I am used to a couple of hours or so cycling. We set off with Mattaya perched on a seat on the crossbar. All was well. The weather was warm and not too hot. Cycling was easy. Mattaya had fun ringing the bell all the time. It was really was good. I was treated to a lovely lunch and a beer at the Black Horse - even better. Danielle was tired. She demanded we went by the shortest route home and the following day she didn't come swimming with me as planned. Such is my dedication to wearing my children out, I can still do it!

Mattaya enjoying a pint!

I have spent my week ticking off things I will do for the last time in a long time - last swim, last tennis match, last tennis social, last long bike ride. In a few days I am off on an adventure. I am doing a bit of the Silk Road and tagging another holiday on the back of that trip. When I return home, I am having an operation on my achilles tendon. I reckon I'll be out of action till Christmas. 

Hopefully, I will have enough wifi to write my blog along the way!

Time passes far too fast!

A wheelbarrow full of dying plants from my front garden... too many drought days!

The older you get, the faster time slips by. I know that a week in my life is a much smaller percentage than a week in my grand daughters' lives but it doesn't account for how we are now in the eighth month of the year already and I can still remember Christmas Dinner. I planned a trip along part of the Silk Road back in February when my left foot still felt good after the steroid injection. Back then I felt I could walk the whole thing. Now the thought of too much walking without a good dose of Naproxen makes me wince. 

Nevertheless, I am off of my jaunt armed with enough naproxen soon enough and I am really excited. I am so excited that I have started packing already.  Tagged on to the end of my trip is a few days in Istanbul where I will get my teeth sorted by a most amazing dentist, Dr. Ali. I know he is amazing because my local dentist was impressed with the work he did on me the last time I visited. 

Then with teeth sorted, it is off to Bodrum and across the Aegean Sea to Piraeus and Athens. I haven't planned the rest of the trip but I plan to be back in the UK ahead of going into hospital to have my op. No doubt time will stand still when I am slumped on my sofa and only able to use one leg. That is always the way of the world. Fun times whizz while everything else seems to drag. Having said this, my year has whizzed so I must be having an excess of fun so far. If only I could remember what this fun was. 

Jackie hob nobs with the actors!

This week I watched an open-air production of The Pirates of Penzance at Stowe. As a teenager I loved Gilbert and Sullivan so I rekindled my knowledge of the story by watching a YouTube production first. The outdoor theatre company @Illyriatheatre is made up of a handful of players who take on multiple parts so there is lots of cross-dressing and humour thrown into an already funny story of a young lad, Frederick, who was apprenticed to a wimpy band of pirates. With the help of a dues et machina, the pirates turn out to be peers and all ends well. Nowadays some of our Peers are pirates of the worst kind. Michelle Mone being one - she ravaged the coffers of the treasury and cheated the government out of millions through criminal procurement of COVID protective gear. Sadly, she is not the only dodgy peer sitting in the Lords. 

Other dodgy peers are available for future discussions. Climate crisis is high on our current agenda and this begs the question why lobbying by oil companies has allowed us to get to this nadir where our summer has been such a scorcher that wildfires are destroying vineyards in France, homes in Spain, the countryside in the UK and God knows what else. We are all complicit. We drive cars, we use resources as if they can be magicked up for future reuse. We allow our government to approve and supplement use of fossil fuels because we, like frogs, don't notice how much our environment is hurting us. 

This goes for me too. I went to the show at Stowe with far too little fuel in my car. The pump at Tesco is Buckingham was closed at 9:30pm so I popped along to Bletchley. By the time I got to a pump I had just 5 miles worth of fuel in my tank. I too burn up the miles and don't generally think of the affect my behaviour is having on nature.