Chronicles of a misfit Pakistani in Tashkent
Nothing like a journey to Tashkent to make you miss Pakistan!
The Registan: The Heart of Samarkand. PHOTO: JAWAD CHAUDHRY
The Flight
Before journeying to Tashkent I first had to journey from Karachi to Lahore. This is because Uzbek Airways flies only from Lahore and Islamabad and it’s a mystery to me why they ignore Karachi. Are the people of the Punjab more inclined towards history and hedonism? Tashkent offers plenty of that.
Karachi was balmy, Lahore was cool and I was anticipating frigid weather in Tashkent. It is situated right between Siberia and Pakistan and who can forget the chilly winds that Mother Russia sends our way, via Quetta, to Karachi. The latest forecast showed temperature ranging between 2-14C, and I prepared accordingly; mufflers, caps, wool coats. After all, I hardly ever get a chance to wear my winter clothes.
The flight to Tashkent was in the middle of the night, as is the case with most international flights out of Pakistan. I was accompanied by two dozen of my colleagues, all of whom (like me) were on our way to a leisure conference in Uzbekistan. Thankfully the plane was new and not one of the ancient behemoths like the ones owned by PIA. Still, the air stewards looked as if they were being forced at gun point to deal with us unruly Pakistanis. As soon as the plane landed, everyone scrambled to get their luggage. It was as if the plane was on fire and no one paid any heed to the polite requests to sit down; only when one of the stewardesses got up and screamed at the top of her lungs for everyone to sit, did anyone obey.
The landing was very comfortable and so was the immigration. Inevitably, regardless of the fact that Uzbekistan is no longer part of USSR, the monochromatic communist feel permeates the atmosphere — from the stoic looking staff to the ambience, the cars and even the cold lifeless weather.
Welcome to Tashkent
It was 5am when we finally exited the airport. The first thing we saw was a group of young Uzbeks waiting anxiously for their favourite footballer to arrive home. Our hotel, Le Grand Plaza, was a short ride away and had an oddly salacious aura about it.
This hotel, previously called Tata hotel, is a legacy of the autocratic ruler of Uzbekistan, Islam Karimov, who has a penchant for parting foreign investors from their dollars. Speaking of dollars, their currency exchange rate is far worse than Pakistan’s, amounting to roughly 2,500 soms to the dollar. This meant that I ended up with so many soms that I had to carry them in polyethylene bags. On the plus side, it’s a good thing Tashkent is an extremely safe city, because I couldn’t imagine wandering around any Pakistani town while carrying money in a see-through plastic bag!
There are no fast food restaurants in Uzbekistan, nor do they have any credit card facilities. If you have cash, great; if you have dollars, that’s even better as the whole of Uzbekistan is then at your disposal. Based on their features, the people seem to be descended from the Mongols (except for the Russians of course, who are the main reason that most Pakistanis and Indians travel to Tashkent in the first place). The best thing about Uzbekistan, though, is its history: Amir Temur, a hero for Uzbeks and a vicious conqueror for most others, was the great-great-great grandfather of Babur, the father of the Mughal dynasty, and himself claims descent from Genghis Khan. No wonder we Pakistanis are so belligerent.
The trip was well planned, with enough time for rest and recreation. As I ventured out after a good night’s sleep, I realised that Tashkent is quite similar to Islamabad, albeit not as hilly, beautiful or verdant. People tend to mind about their own business but they’re still really friendly. The only problem is the language: everyone speaks either Uzbek or Russian and that’s about it.
As night fell we ventured out to a seedy club, which was the start of our hedonistic adventures. Behold, seven beautiful and scantily clad Uzbek and Russian women swayed seductively to Pakistani (Atif Aslam!), English and Indian tunes. As usual, my colleagues became intoxicated and totally unruly, throwing money at them left right and centre. For most of them, it was their first time travelling outside of the country. Imagine their excitement: a new country and foreign (read white) women!
The revelry went on for the better part of the night with some determined colleagues seeking to extend the festivities while the rest of us sat in our hotel rooms trying to surf on the extremely slow internet connection.
Day Two
We were treated to a tour of the city and it turned out that there is not a lot to see in Tashkent. The major sights include an ugly TV tower, which is the tallest structure in Central Asia, Independence Square, where the Uzbeks proclaimed their independence from the USSR and the numerous statues of Amir Temur spread around the city.
Of course, the night life is a totally different affair, and there are numerous clubs catering to different nationalities; Russians, South Asians and Europeans of various origins. Our night ended with dinner at a local restaurant and that was another culture shock. Since the food is bland and overly reliant on beef, our hosts tried to accommodate us by serving us daal and channa. Imagine going to a foreign country and being forced to eat overcooked curry, parathas and channas everyday. My advice: never go on organised tours, they cut corners everywhere, especially on the food.
Day Three
The day began with a trip to Samarkand; the jewel of the tour, at least for those who value history. The road to Samarkand from Tashkent is horrible and our highways are much better in comparison. In retrospect we should have taken the bullet train, Afrosyab, which takes just two hours to reach its destination, but as always, the tour company cut corners again. Still, Samarkand is a beautiful sight, with its blue mosques and undulating desert plains. Sadly, all the buildings have been heavily restored, so much so that they looked brand new and not relics of a bygone age.
Another issue was that the mosques all look exactly the same and boredom sets in very quickly. The trip was tiring and we all longed for a good lunch. Sadly, the food was also a disaster: pieces of beef in a strange fat-infused broth. It was so bad that a few of my colleagues actually threw up. How we missed Pakistan and its array of delectable spicy food!
Day Four
The last day of our trip was spent visiting museums (one of them had a 4th century Quran written on deer skin), archaeological sites (more statues of Amir Temur) and then shopping at a local market. It was quite similar to Jodia bazaar in Karachi and we ended up buying extra cheap Russian sweets.
That is all there is to Uzbekistan and everyone was more excited about going home than I’ve ever seen before. Tashkent is truly a one hit wonder.
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, February 3rd, 2013.
Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook to stay informed and join the conversation.
Before journeying to Tashkent I first had to journey from Karachi to Lahore. This is because Uzbek Airways flies only from Lahore and Islamabad and it’s a mystery to me why they ignore Karachi. Are the people of the Punjab more inclined towards history and hedonism? Tashkent offers plenty of that.
Karachi was balmy, Lahore was cool and I was anticipating frigid weather in Tashkent. It is situated right between Siberia and Pakistan and who can forget the chilly winds that Mother Russia sends our way, via Quetta, to Karachi. The latest forecast showed temperature ranging between 2-14C, and I prepared accordingly; mufflers, caps, wool coats. After all, I hardly ever get a chance to wear my winter clothes.
The flight to Tashkent was in the middle of the night, as is the case with most international flights out of Pakistan. I was accompanied by two dozen of my colleagues, all of whom (like me) were on our way to a leisure conference in Uzbekistan. Thankfully the plane was new and not one of the ancient behemoths like the ones owned by PIA. Still, the air stewards looked as if they were being forced at gun point to deal with us unruly Pakistanis. As soon as the plane landed, everyone scrambled to get their luggage. It was as if the plane was on fire and no one paid any heed to the polite requests to sit down; only when one of the stewardesses got up and screamed at the top of her lungs for everyone to sit, did anyone obey.
Tashkent’s claim to fame: Russian Women. PHOTO: JAWAD CHAUDHRY
The landing was very comfortable and so was the immigration. Inevitably, regardless of the fact that Uzbekistan is no longer part of USSR, the monochromatic communist feel permeates the atmosphere — from the stoic looking staff to the ambience, the cars and even the cold lifeless weather.
Welcome to Tashkent
It was 5am when we finally exited the airport. The first thing we saw was a group of young Uzbeks waiting anxiously for their favourite footballer to arrive home. Our hotel, Le Grand Plaza, was a short ride away and had an oddly salacious aura about it.
This hotel, previously called Tata hotel, is a legacy of the autocratic ruler of Uzbekistan, Islam Karimov, who has a penchant for parting foreign investors from their dollars. Speaking of dollars, their currency exchange rate is far worse than Pakistan’s, amounting to roughly 2,500 soms to the dollar. This meant that I ended up with so many soms that I had to carry them in polyethylene bags. On the plus side, it’s a good thing Tashkent is an extremely safe city, because I couldn’t imagine wandering around any Pakistani town while carrying money in a see-through plastic bag!
One of the many statues of Amir Temur. PHOTO: JAWAD CHAUDHRY
There are no fast food restaurants in Uzbekistan, nor do they have any credit card facilities. If you have cash, great; if you have dollars, that’s even better as the whole of Uzbekistan is then at your disposal. Based on their features, the people seem to be descended from the Mongols (except for the Russians of course, who are the main reason that most Pakistanis and Indians travel to Tashkent in the first place). The best thing about Uzbekistan, though, is its history: Amir Temur, a hero for Uzbeks and a vicious conqueror for most others, was the great-great-great grandfather of Babur, the father of the Mughal dynasty, and himself claims descent from Genghis Khan. No wonder we Pakistanis are so belligerent.
The trip was well planned, with enough time for rest and recreation. As I ventured out after a good night’s sleep, I realised that Tashkent is quite similar to Islamabad, albeit not as hilly, beautiful or verdant. People tend to mind about their own business but they’re still really friendly. The only problem is the language: everyone speaks either Uzbek or Russian and that’s about it.
As night fell we ventured out to a seedy club, which was the start of our hedonistic adventures. Behold, seven beautiful and scantily clad Uzbek and Russian women swayed seductively to Pakistani (Atif Aslam!), English and Indian tunes. As usual, my colleagues became intoxicated and totally unruly, throwing money at them left right and centre. For most of them, it was their first time travelling outside of the country. Imagine their excitement: a new country and foreign (read white) women!
Som bit of trouble. PHOTO: JAWAD CHAUDHRY
The revelry went on for the better part of the night with some determined colleagues seeking to extend the festivities while the rest of us sat in our hotel rooms trying to surf on the extremely slow internet connection.
Day Two
We were treated to a tour of the city and it turned out that there is not a lot to see in Tashkent. The major sights include an ugly TV tower, which is the tallest structure in Central Asia, Independence Square, where the Uzbeks proclaimed their independence from the USSR and the numerous statues of Amir Temur spread around the city.
Of course, the night life is a totally different affair, and there are numerous clubs catering to different nationalities; Russians, South Asians and Europeans of various origins. Our night ended with dinner at a local restaurant and that was another culture shock. Since the food is bland and overly reliant on beef, our hosts tried to accommodate us by serving us daal and channa. Imagine going to a foreign country and being forced to eat overcooked curry, parathas and channas everyday. My advice: never go on organised tours, they cut corners everywhere, especially on the food.
Day Three
The day began with a trip to Samarkand; the jewel of the tour, at least for those who value history. The road to Samarkand from Tashkent is horrible and our highways are much better in comparison. In retrospect we should have taken the bullet train, Afrosyab, which takes just two hours to reach its destination, but as always, the tour company cut corners again. Still, Samarkand is a beautiful sight, with its blue mosques and undulating desert plains. Sadly, all the buildings have been heavily restored, so much so that they looked brand new and not relics of a bygone age.
Another issue was that the mosques all look exactly the same and boredom sets in very quickly. The trip was tiring and we all longed for a good lunch. Sadly, the food was also a disaster: pieces of beef in a strange fat-infused broth. It was so bad that a few of my colleagues actually threw up. How we missed Pakistan and its array of delectable spicy food!
Day Four
The last day of our trip was spent visiting museums (one of them had a 4th century Quran written on deer skin), archaeological sites (more statues of Amir Temur) and then shopping at a local market. It was quite similar to Jodia bazaar in Karachi and we ended up buying extra cheap Russian sweets.
That is all there is to Uzbekistan and everyone was more excited about going home than I’ve ever seen before. Tashkent is truly a one hit wonder.
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, February 3rd, 2013.
Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook to stay informed and join the conversation.