I'm in Dushanbe again...

August 25, 2009

Tuesday

Some people should never get a passport, be in public, or get married to men named Norm. Today, I went to the U.S. Embassy – here in Dushanbe – to get new passport pages added (Karachi, here I come!), but the waiting room was filled to its capacity with the nasty personality of a late 60-something woman, whom I shall call ‘Fran’. Anytime her husband opened his mouth, Fran would yell, “Norm, just stop, I can’t take it anymore.” When I first entered the waiting room, I heard they were discussing directions, looking at maps, and planning their trip around Dushanbe and over the border to Uzbekistan. I turned to them and asked, “do you need any directions?” The woman glared at me over her gigantic freak glasses and yelled NO.

Awhile later (it took over an hour and a half to add passport pages) I turned to Norm and asked, “are you trying to cross the border?” He started to answer in a kind and gentle voice when Fran jumped off her seat and started screaming, “I just can’t take it. Don’t say anything, don’t speak, just stop, I can’t take it.” There was another guy in the waiting room, a mechanic/engineer learning Farsi to later train Afghan pilots(?), who couldn’t even look at me (after we tried to start a conversation but were told to be quiet by Fran) because we were scared that Fran would spontaneously combust. At one point, the officer at the consular section asked them when they had arrived in Dushanbe, when Fran growled and screamed “It just doesn’t matter. Don’t answer, don’t say a word.” Norm quietly said, “but maybe it does matter?” Every sentence the poor man said for an hour was responded to with a cynical and exasperated comment – as if he had just committed the gravest sin by speaking.

The lovely couple were attempting to cross the border with temporary emergency passports. Apparently, though, their temp passports were full. However, in their temp passports they had their Tajik visas. Now, the rules say that you can’t add new pages to a temporary passport. However, you can keep your old temp passport to go along with the new temp passport so that you don’t lose any old visas. Fran, however, was insisting that the consular officer be “as accommodating as Kyrgyzstan” and contact the Tajik “embassy” to have a stamp put somewhere explaining something about something. The poor officer just kept saying “since we are in Tajikistan, the Tajik embassy doesn’t exist.” Fran would then yell that she knows that but she still wants the Tajik Ministry - if such was the equivalent of an embassy inside the actual country – to write something in her passport (for what reason nobody in the room knew).

They began to fill out the application pages, although Fran really believed she had to do this task for her husband. This might actually have been the case because he couldn’t spell Uzbekistan – or any of the other countries - by himself. She spelled each country name letter by letter.

This was the first time I was truly sorry to see Americans abroad, as we are all somehow ambassadors for our country when we meet people. I do not wish that such a woman could represent the U.S., let alone planet earth.


Being back in Dushanbe is unusual now. I have somewhat enjoyed the first full day back although there’s currently a dust storm – “Afghan dust air” as we call it. It really makes your chest hurt to breathe. Unfortunately, I was out and about today…to the embassy and to work. I also went out to lunch with Roshanak, who brought her mother. Her mom has come to visit from Iran, and when I arrived in Morningstar, her mom was by the front door. She was looking at me and I only assumed she was the waitress, so I said a small hello and walked right by. This was quite an embarrassment as she had come to greet me.
Tomorrow, they will have a dinner, and I’ve been invited, so perhaps my poor introductory greetings were not too bad.


The trip from JFK – leaving on Saturday and arriving in Dushanbe on Monday was really fun. On the way to Istanbul, I got stuck in a seat that had no working TV. A nine hour flight without any movies is NOT OK. I made a scene, but it got me nowhere with the airline staff. At first, they were like – wait 5 minutes, but that turned out to be an hour. I decided to take matters into my own hands. There were about 20 people without TVs. Somehow, they were surviving. But I was not OK. I needed to watch my sitcoms. I asked the women next to me in a row of 4 seats – 2 empty in the middle – if she was planning to watch TV or sleep. Since she said she would not sleep for a few hours, I planted myself next to her and started watching. Too bad for her, I decided to watch a bollywood flick that lasted forever and three hours more as the heroine fell in love with her fiance’s brother on the day of her wedding and then sang incessantly about loving the wrong man. As soon as the film ended, she said, “I want to lie down now.” I was forced to return to the disconnected row of seats…should I get compensation from the airline for such inconvenience?

In Istanbul, I was dreading the 9 hour lay over so I went to the transit desk and got in line. In front of me were two girls. At the counter were two people. Next, some Africans went straight to the counter – along with a group of Indians. I complained loudly that there was a line. The Africans debated with us for a minute about whether there was a line and then decided that there wasn’t one and purposefully and intentionally went before the girls and myself in front of our faces. I continued my complaining and said, “this is not OK. People can’t just cut lines like this intentionally and in your face, even after being told there’s a line.” One of the girls who had been cut just like myself, said, “well, when you live in certain countries, you get used to people disrespecting lines.” I turned to her and said, “I lived in Iran and I’m still not used to it.” Both girls were shocked and asked, “you lived in Iran?” They were Iranian (and I’m an idiot).
I finally got through the mass of line cutters and asked the Turkish air rep if I could get a hotel. She just said, “No hotel.” She then said I could get a meal voucher if I come back in two hours. Now, why would a meal voucher only be available two hours after I arrive? Is it so that I don’t ask for two meal vouchers within the lay over period?
I walked away ready to get a business class lounge so I could at least relax during the lay over, when I saw the Iranian girl was still hanging around. She said she had gotten a hotel. I was shocked, but then I just went to a different woman behind the counter and she said that there were hotels. I asked if it was free, but she admitted absolutely nothing and gave me a blank stare. WHY does Turkish air feel the need to keep it a secret whether there is a right for a passenger to get a hotel room – and for free? Is it because half the passengers currently in the airport would have the right to claim such a benefit? The girls, Fatemeh and Roshanak, were lovely and we wound up going to the hotel together and sharing some nice stories. They had both been on the flight from JFK and live half in the U.S. and half in Iran. Their stories concentrated on why an Iranian would potentially prefer living and studying in Iran or the U.S. One is choosing to do an MA in the US and the other in Iran. I just sat and listened and then joked with them that I was choosing third countries, although Iran would be lovely if I could go. Fatemeh, though, kept forgetting and would often refer to my life in Iran, as if I had been on my way to Iran just like them.

When we got back to the airport after the hotel, we took pictures and shared hugs. Airport friendships are so sweet! I then took a seat at the gate and busted out my Urdu cd. Sharaf (Mahmud’s cousin), without me looking, sneaked right up next to me and took a seat. What a surprise that he was on the same plane, but also what a blessing!

I kept studying so I was one of the last to get on the plane, and there were no spaces left for my bag. Right above my seat, there was a small purse taking up enough space for a suitcase. I asked the crew to ask the passengers to put small things under their seat. I got another typical Istanbul blank stare and I was forced to go to the back of the plane to store my bag in an overhead in the last rows. As the crew showed me an empty compartment, I said, but if I sit in the front and this bag is in the back, “how do I get off the plane?” another blank stare – and trust me – getting off first at Dushanbe is imperative. While I was having this conversation, the guy behind me put his bag in the empty space we were discussing. Ha ha. Life is funny. At least the stewardess perked up and said no to that guy’s stunt.

When we landed in Dushanbe, we waited in a passport check line that moved one person every 5 minutes. I waited an hour – and then found that my colleague who was supposed to pick me up was not there. Neither was one of my two checked bags. Mahmud’s cousin though, the Tajik gentlemen / family member that he was, waited for me and then drove me to my host family’s apartment. It wasn’t until we arrived at the apartment that my colleague called from the airport and asked where I was. If I only I could have called Him from the airport, but I had lost my phone at MACY’s a month ago – and with it my phonebook. At the airport, I presumed that since I hadn’t reminded him to pick me up, he hadn’t remembered. In fact, our plane was just earlier than I realized … or something. He drove to the host family and Mahmud came with the suitcases and back to my own apartment. I would have just taken a taxi myself to my own apartment in the first place, but my colleague had my house keys. Anyway, leaving on Saturday 4 pm – arriving Monday 4 am – getting to sleep at 6 am.

Stupidity lesson of the trip:
You cannot take three rolling suitcases with you at one time, unless your can sprout a third arm to roll all three at once.

I actually had to ask someone if I could borrow his arm.

I left the airport at 4:15 am after being told to go to Turkish airlines the next day at 10am to check for my missing bag. My colleague apparently also got to the airport at 4:15, but we never crossed paths.

The next morning at 11am, I went to the airline and spoke to the office manager. He looked at my slip and instantly said, “that bag is at the airport.” How did he know that so quickly – without even checking? I went to the airport in the hot afternoon and went to the luggage “storage” – not the lost luggage department. There I was forced to pay 9 somoni for having them “store my luggage for 24 hours.” This is absurd. It’s definitely not having to pay 9 somoni (2$), but I’m SURE that my bag was not on the belt when the plane landed. Do they take a certain number of bags and intentionally have them held behind for a day so that the luggage storage men can get a salary? It sounds absurd, but you never know…

Giant Roaches Work at Night

Seriously, giant roaches work at night under the tress outside my apartment building. I almost stepped on one, and then another, and then another. They were carrying large pieces of unidentifiable black stuff to an unknown location.

A German man decided to bring his dog into the Chinese restaurant tonight. It started napping under the table, but when the waitress came, it got startled and let out a horrific bark and jumped towards her. The Chinese manager came out and complained, but the man could only justify his actions by saying that the dog always goes with him wherever he travels. Martyna jumped in and asked if he dares to bring his dog into restaurants in Germany. He didn't answer. Anyway, I thought that people tie up their dogs outside when they go into a restaurant...but this dog wasn't even on a leash.

I'm currently battling fleas in my apartment. We did a huge spraying a week ago, and then I stayed at my friends' places. But it seems the problem has not gone away. Today I decided to ask my downstairs neighbors if they have such a problem or if the building is somehow infested. The lady downstairs - whose apartment is being repainted and cleaned out - and so I thought to talk with her - was the rudest woman I have ever met...
she yelled at me and pointed her finger in my face saying that if there is a problem in the apartment building it is solely on account of ME. It was horrific. I've seen crazy people, but this took the prize. I have never seen a Tajik person who is rude...In fact, I'd have to say that she must NOT be Tajik at all.

I met a high ranking mullah today from Khojand. He is an affiliate of our Project. He has given us access to "all" of Khojand for our interviews on law and religion. I plan to spend a few days in Khojand at the end of the month.

On another note,
Only in Dushanbe would a taxi driver with a route number on his windshield turn to you and ask, "where is my destination?" He had no idea where to stop the route...

Back from Uzbekistan

So, Two weeks ago I went to Uzbekistan ... and came back. It was a quick five day trip.
And what has been delaying me from posting pictures and crazy stories of car rides, bribes, sleazy Uzbek officials, and horrible hotel rooms? - MY INTERNET CONNECTION HERE IN DUSHANBE IS HORRIBLE! Anyway, overall, we had a wonderful time in Uzbekistan. I mostly traveled with Karim - but met up with Zohra and Daniel and some other Americans in Samarkand.
What I hope to do soon is get the photos off my home computer so that I can post them...in the end, I may wind up getting high speed internet at home (something I was trying to avoid...although for no apparent reason whatsoever). Oh, and the other distraction from posting has been the infestation in my apartment of various gross insects. (fortunately not roaches, but it seems to be fleas and various kinds of beetles).

Anyway, Friday was really bizarre - I saw these two boys and a girl playing outside my apartment building. They were probably 7 years old. The game, however, was not amusing at all. The two boys stood some distance apart. Next to each was a pile of rocks...quite large rocks in fact. The aim was to see if either kid could manage to hit the other with one of the rocks. In the middle of these two boys was a girl, who seemed to be a kind of referee. She would move just as one of the boys would launch the rock at the other. I stared angrily at the three of them and got a nasty look from one of the boys for interrupting their summertime game!

FLOODS?

Well, today was an amazing day!! After cleaning the house for three hours in the morning (I have various insects trying to stay as guests), I agreed to go to Laura's house for lunch. On the way, it started hailing. But this was not just any normal hail but the second day in a row of hail after nearly a month and a half of rain. Within twenty minutes, the main street in Dushanbe was a river - as the drainage was completely clogged. There were no pedestrian pathways because the whole boulevard was a river - more than half a foot deep. We managed to drive through the main street, but Laura's house was on perhaps the worst side street in town. The taxi driver at first refused to take me onto that side street. Instead, he pulled over, turned on a DVD player and told me we would wait the weather out. But then our friend Samvel got on my phone and told him that he couldn't leave a woman in such weather without getting her to destination.

So, a few minutes later, we ventured into the side street where Laura lives (near the Korean embassy and the Youth Theater). The car couldn't get through so much water and it stalled twice. After ten minutes, we were 10 yards from her house, and the driver just refused to go on. He pulled over to the side of the "river" and turned another movie on. Laura and Sam were not willing to let this ruin our lunch. I looked over and Laura was attempting to walk through the flood to our taxi. I desperately tried to get her to stop with wild hand movements from inside the car. Eventually, Sam stopped her and instead put on some girly flowery flip flops and walked through freezing mud water to get to the taxi. I don't know why!! Anyway, after a few more minutes, the driver pulled up the side of the house. The landlord - a 70 year old man - gave me a pair of rain boots and then on top of it offered to put me on his back so I could make it 2 meters across the water. (Obviously that was a crazy suggestion!) When I stepped down, the water only made it half way to my knees but it had a relatively strong current.

In any case, eventually we all made it inside. The funny part was that on the way Laura didn't even know there was a river outside her house. I kept calling while we were trying to get through the water complaining that it was inappropriate that she should be asking me to go to her place under such circumstances. The best image I saw though was the head of a stuffed bear traveling down the main street nearly faster than the cars! I really wished I had had a camera.

There was so much hail on the streets I thought the city looked like a salt mine. - Later, we walked home after the flood had disappeared. All that is left now is a 3-4 inch spread of mud everywhere. On the way to my apartment, I saw this wonderful wedding dress. Outside the bridal shops here they place a sample wedding dress, and apparently one shop hadn't taken their dress in when the river of mud water was coming down from the mountains. The dress was its normal pretty shape - but up until the waste it was the color of mud.

Hot water

The weather has finally turned pleasant - after 20 days of rain, rain, and more rain! But I am not convinced that the sun is here to stay. Anyway, it was absolutely fascinating - but two days ago my friend wanted to take a hot shower at my place, and once again there was no hot water. This was - for me - the last straw! I have spent the last two months trying to fix the water problems in my apartment. First I woke up at midnight to neighbors banging on my door because I had flooded the whole building when a hose broke off the filter to my washing machine. The next week, the sink in my kitchen broke (another cheap Chinese hose) and I again flooded the downstairs neighbors. Then another pipe in the bathroom was leaking - and all the while the hot water boiler in the shower was leaking rust. Finally, I decided to suck up the price of a new boiler in the case my landlady won't replace the broken thermex when she returns from vacation (as she was originally arguing that since I am living in the apartment long-term, it's my apartment and I am responsible for any and all repairs). The "santeknik" (plumber) put in a new thermex and after that for a week, I would have hot water one day and cold water only the next. Finally, my friend, who wanted a hot shower, had a brilliant idea and turned on the hot water faucet(tap) running between the thermex and the shower head. BUT WHAT KIND OF santeknik, who knows I want hot showers would leave it closed???

Still in Dushanbe!

It is not OK to be scared of dogs in Dushanbe anymore. Actually, I made quite a fool of myself today. I have to walk down a relatively dark street to get to my house, and there was the silhouette of a dog half way between me and my front door. In the meantime, two girls were walking my direction, and they turned out to be friends of mine from the u.s. – They didn’t really understand my immense fear of being eaten by a strange dog on my way home from celebrating my host parents’ 25th wedding anniversary. I’ve learned to like dogs, but my fear (after being bitten in 6th grade) just won’t go away. Every night I scrutinize the situation to see what dogs are waiting for me.

I brought my host parents two ice cream logs for their anniversary day, but it turns out the father doesn’t eat ice cream. In fact, none of the men over the age of 20 touched the ice cream, so the mom wound up eating four helpings. This was after she weighed herself and complained about having gained 4 kilos. The Tajik men say only the women eat cake and ice cream.

It hailed today. Actually, it was sunny and warm, and then it rained, and then it was sunny, and then it rained, and then it was windy, and then it rained, and then it was sunny, and then it hailed, and then it was sunny. Isn’t April wonderful?! I went for my Sunday walk to the Chinese restaurant, which is about 12,000 steps from my house. I ate spicy tofu – got into an awkward conversation with a woman in the bathroom, who didn’t understand why if it was a single toilet restroom, it was either her or me in there and not both of us – and then I walked home.

On the way home, I got caught in the rain and stopped at Laura’s house for tea and mandarins. We talked about her rose garden and my possible trip to Uzbekistan with Karim in May. She and Sam might join us. From there, I continued walking home, and just as I was reaching my front door, my host mom invited me for Osh and told me to come straight away. Naturally, though, the Osh wouldn’t be ready for another three hours, and I wound up sitting at their house and getting annoyed at their children for continually asking dumb questions like “Is America beautiful?” How is it that 12 year olds don’t understand that a whole country cannot be either beautiful or ugly?

Anyway, life is going on. There is much to update everyone on....but I am soo busy with exam preps and research studies - as well as general work. I've recently gotten a grant to study Human Rights Education in Tajikistan, so I will be particularly busy in the upcoming months.

Stuck in Istanbul

Hello!
Greetings from Istanbul - yet again. I am heading home for two months, one month medical leave, one month vacation...(or so I hope it doesn't turn into two months medical leave) - but yet again, the Turkish air flight from Dushanbe to Istanbul was delayed by about 9 hours.

After waking up at 2:30, we left for the airport. A guy came up to us and I thought he said to my colleague, who went to the airport with me, "The plane left at 11:30." I immediately thought he meant 11:30 at night, three hours early. I told my colleague to ignore the crazy man. Afterall, planes never leave five hours early.

The real reason for my immediate assumption that the man was making up a story or that he had a heard a rumor about "early departure" was because this same colleague five minutes earlier had asked me if I felt a third earthquake (yes, third) two days before in the middle of the night. Of course I hadn't - because there was no earthquake. However, the Tajiks - prone to rumors and group mentality, had spread "news" that an earthquake would strike at like 2:30 am. For this reason, all Tajiks (in the know or who had friends) came out of their houses and stayed out for several hours.

My colleague, who agreed that you can't predict earthquakes that way - still left his house for at least an hour because all his neighbors were outside and another one of our co-workers had called him. I quietly wondered why nobody called me. (hmm...).

We turned back around, I went back to sleep in my Dushanbe apartment, and now at 11:30 at night Dushanbe time, I am finally half way to NY in a cute little hotel called the Gunes in Istanbul. I was quite lucky that I had bought the ticket to NY completely through Turkish air, because many people on the flight from Dushanbe who had connecting flights with other airlines, were turned away and not provided any accomodation or meals. How horrible!
The real lesson is to either buy a ticket through one airline or to take out travel insurance in the case of absurdities - like being stuck in Istanbul. Actually, I love Istanbul - if you have the time to get into the city. Unfortunately, it's almost 9PM now, and at 8AM, the shuttle picks me up for the airport.

Despite liking Istanbul in general (particularly for the restaurants), i can't stand the airport. When I arrived - they told me I could stay at the "airport hotel." That's all they said. They told me to exit passport control and then follow signs for airport hotel. This I did, but only after complaining that it's a small scam to make me pay for the visa fee. As always, I tried to get answers to whether they would pay for the visa fee, and they just kept telling me to wait, and wait, and wait. Finally, I said, "what am I waiting for" - and they admitted that there's nothing to be waiting for, because they don't cover the visa fee. I think I'll be obnoxious and file a travel insurance claim for the Turkish visa fee.

After I passed the passport control, I followed the sign for "airport hotel," walked down a highway ramp, and got directions from police officers. I arrived at the "Turkish Air airport hotel", went to the front desk and a woman (with supreme attitude) told me it was a private hotel and I should leave immediately. Perhaps I am too literal?? I walked back up the hill to the arrivals terminal, with my heavy backpack, visibly distressed, and found an information desk. I asked the nice woman there how I can get to the free turkish air airport hotel. She pointed to the other end of the hall - and said, there is a sign for airport hotel.

I walked onwards, and When I reached the other end of the hall, EVERY single kiosk said "Airport Hotel" - I seriously decided that I was in an idiot's paradise. Anyway, reaching the conclusion of an idiot's paradise has left me exhausted. :)
Wish me a good flight tomorrow to New York!