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Posts Tagged ‘travelers’

2009 – Restarting this blog

July 27th, 2009 Amit No comments

In 2006 I had started this blog to record my thoughts as I traveled around the world on a 6 month sabbatical. 3 years on, I am now married, have a son, and am back in New York at my job.

I am now starting my blog again, with the intention of making this a resource for travelers who want to head out on their own, or with friends/family, and are seeking destinations, tips and things to do that one wont find in the typical guidebook.

First impressions of Bukhara

April 27th, 2006 Amit No comments

Bukhara is a fascinating city. One side of it is modern, very soviet, with its tree-lined boulevards and blocks of identical unimaginative apartments. The other side takes you backto the Arabian nights with narrow alleyways, madrassas and caravansarais.

We got into Bukhara in the evening after driving all day from Khiva. I walked around the new town a little, and it reminded me of an Indian city in the eighties, with its soviet-style architecture. There wasn’t much to see other than some interesting fountains, stadiums, etc. and in the evening made my way over to the old town.

At the old town, I met up with some of my fellow-travelers for a tree hour dinner by a pond on a very comfortable diwan, and had some really good kebabs. While we were having dinner these two kids came up to us, trying to sell us paintings that they said they had made. Just to test them we asked if one of themcould draw somethign then and there. With a twinkle in his eye, and without skipping a beat, this little kid, who must have been no more than twelve or thirteen took my pen and drew a beautiful caravan scene, then and there. He also very candidly did business, bargaining on my behalf, reducing his price even before i made an offer. I ended up buying two paintings for what was a lot of money for him, and hardly anytrhing for me. What made my day though was when as we were leaving, as a parting gift he gave two miniatures that he had painted of my favorite person from that era, Omar Khayyam!

Tonight I really got to reflect on how exotic and magical this trip is. Even though, unlike Turkmenistan or other places, Uzbekistan has a more developed tourism industry, with almost a million visitors expected this year, its not in-your-face and harassing like Egypt, and is in fact a veryenjoyable experience. Add to that the charm of traveling around in a big red truck y road, and you really have a magical experience.

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Charmed by Khiva

April 27th, 2006 Amit No comments

Khiva is an interesting town, with the walled city preserved as a heritage site, as people live and work in a town that’s over a thousand years old. Old buildings have beeen restored, Madrassas have been converted to museums, caravansarais been converted into hotels. Despite the increase in tourism, the city is still not “touristy”, and you notice that the city ha been preserved for the sake of heritage, and not so that it becomes a tourist attraction. What strikes a visitor to Khiva is how well planned the city is, with its wide open boulevards, and well ventilated buildings. The simple, geometric Islamic designs adding to its beauty and charm.

The old town of Khiva is a walled city. All buildings are brown, and were preserved or restored during the Soviet era. Most of the religious buildings were converted to museums and hotels. About four thousand people live inside the walled city, mainly working in the museums, hotels and various souvenier shops in the area. Outside the walled city lies the modern town of Khiva, which is a small provincial town where the Soviet-era planned neighborhoods are apparent.

Unlike Turkmenistan, where we were earlier, you hardly saw a security guard or policeman anywhere. Despite being exposed to tourists, people still genuinely friendly, and not looking to make a quick buck from the tourists. Khiva is a small town, and time and time again we were reminded of how friendly and nice people were. We were having lunch at a restaurant in the heart of the walled city and a group of young men came and took a picture with us. About an hour later we saw this group coming towards us excitedly holding a stack of what looked like postcards. When they came up to us we saw that they were photographs that they had taken earlier in the day with us. Immediately I was on my guard, thinking that they were going to try and sell the photos to us. However, all they really wanted to do was share the photos with us, and not sell us anything. Its hard to describe how horrible I felt after that incident. After having horrible experiences in Egypt, India and Istanbul with locals looking to con or fleece tourists, I was pretty jaded, and viewed any friendly move with suspicion.

After having spent the morning visiting the various monuments, we decided to wander into the new town and see what it had to offer. We made our way to the post office, a drab gray building where they were thrilled to bits to see us, and it seemed like no tourist, and definitely no Indian, had wandered his or her way to the post office (most tourists remain within the walled city). One of my fellow travelers collects stamps, and so we asked them to show us various stamps, and they were only too thrilled to oblige. With the cost of living really low in Uzbekistan, the stamps cost next to nothing and we bought several stamps each. Spying my camera, one of the workers at the post office wanted a picture taken of them, and then provided their address for me to mail it to them, “Khiva Posta”! After the post office, we wandered around some more, took a ride on a ferriss wheel, spotted the local football stadium, and found a place for dinner where once again the locals came to get their picture taken with the “Indian”, and were more than happy to serve us some succulent kebabs, shashlicks and pulaos.

With the influence of Persian and Arabic on both Uzbek and Hindi/Urdu, I was able to make out several words, which made it easy to communicate. For example, kagaaz is paper, dukaan is shop, hotel is mehmaankhaana, city is shaher.

People in Uzbekistan seemed more happy, open and outgoing relative to Turkmenistan, where everyone seemed a little more reserved, and more wary of the administration than the Uzbeks. The Uzbeks also held a fascination for Bollywood, and on several occasions I had people singing Bollywood tunes for me! One of them was this lovely college girl who stole my heart with her rendition of “Baazigar”!!

When you travel you realize how irrelevant language becomes. On my first day in Khiva, when I was wandering around, I played ball with a couple of kids and then ended up sitting with their fathers and grandfathers. Through gestures and brief phrases, one of the elders was able to communicate that he was a little kid when Lal Bahadur Shashtri, India’s prime minister at the time, had come to Tashkent and had died there. He asked who was the current President of India and was surprised and awed to hear that the President was a mussalman!

After two wonderful nights in Khiva we made our way to Bukhara, which is about a day’s journey by road. On the way, we saw several small towns which still retained their Soviet character. Drab blocks of buildings, with small gardens, and markets- all very uniform. Seeing them, I was actually reminded of Suburbia in the U.S., where capitalist developers created their version of Utopia, and rreplicated it across the country, very much like the Soviet Socialist experiment I saw in front of me.

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How Shah Rukh helped me cross the border

April 27th, 2006 Amit No comments

Snippets from Turkmenistan


Its funny how things that you learnt many years ago in school crop up in your mind at the oddest of places. In 9th or 10th standard we had a collection of short stories as a textbook in our English class. One of them, titled “How Raj Kapoor Saved My Life”, was a small, but well written piece describing an incident that the author experienced when he visited Russia (or at least I think it was Russia). The story had something to do with how the author was in a strange land, did not know the language, and got into a spot of bother from which he extricated himself by mentioning the famous actor Raj Kapoor’s name, whose movies were apparently closely followed and worshipped. Back in the day, I thought that the story was interesting, and fun, but thought no more of it. This morning, however, crossing the border from Turkmenistan to Uzbekistan, I faced a similar experience, and thank not Raj Kapoor, but Shah Rukh Khan.

It was a rather hot and dry morning, and our overland bus, carrying nineteen of us, mostly Brits, a smattering of Kiwis, an Aussie driver, a Spanish couple, a small but significant minority of Americans, and yours truly, the solitary Indian, found its way to the border post between Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. We had spent the past four days in Turkmenistan, starting with Ashgabat, the modern capital of Turkmenistan, which the self-proclaimed “father of the nation”, President Turkmenbashy, had converted into his version of Dubai meeting Disneyland, with extraordinary buildings of white marble all over the place. The next two days were spent traveling through the countryside and desert, camping and staying at a local home along the way. Turkmenistan is an interesting country, where you see a real effort being made to build a new nation in a span of fifteen years, using petrodollars as currency and one man’s worldview as a vision. The social contract that Turkmenbashy has with his people was apparent throughout the country. In exchange for giving him extraordinary authoritian powers, the people of Turkemistan find themselves with free water, electricity, virtually free petrol and satellite TV, and not to mention $1 airfare anywhere in the country. Employment is available through a bloated government and a nascent private sector. Books written by the President are required coursework in schools, and monuments to the President, his family members, and his books can be found everywhere.

Throughout Turkmenistan we found the people friendly, but a little reserved. Tourists were few and far between. Our guide had told us that there were only about twenty thousands tourists a year in the country. This made waling around the various towns and markets extremely interesting and exciting. The Ashgabat market, especially. reputed to be the largest market in Central Asia, you could buy anything from camels to cars to souveniers to meat, vegetables, hardware, CDs. Rumor has it that you could even find old Soviet miltary hardware but since we weren’t sure of the export regulations we decided not to look for the T-72 or a MiG fighter jet.

Along the way, we had stopped in the middle of the Karakum desert to camp for the night, when someone had the brilliant idea of viewing a flaming gas crater seven km inside the desert. After some intense negotiations, our guide was able to find a dump truck and an earth-mover that took us across the desert to see the flaming gas crater. It was a fantastic experience going in the back of a dump-truck, and having the earth-mover push us out whenever we got stuck in the sand.

After spending the night in the middle of the desert with hardly another soul in sight, we continued on, and made our way to Kunye Urgench, a little town with some mausoleums and towers from the 10th-14th century. This was a minor province along the silk route, and you could see a similarity in architecture between some of the towers here and that of the Qutub Minar and other aspects of pre-mughal artchitecture in India. For us, however, the importance of Kunye Urgench lay not in these ruins but rather spending the night at a former Soviet government guest house and eating a Korean meal! Apparently, many Korean refugees found their way to Turkmenistan around the time the Japanese were looking to invade Korea, in early twentieth century. They found odd jobs, and being landless, were very poor. One such family worked as a cook and caretaker of this large country house which used to be used by the Soviets, and now by the few tourists who make their way here, such as us. The feast was a fusion of Korean and Central Asian influences, and was absolutely delicious.

After spending the night in Kunye Urgench, we made our way towards the border, stopping briefly for supplies at the border town of Doshoyet. At the Doshoyet market, we were the novelty. While Ashgabat, the capital, still saw a fair number of these tourists, it seemed that Doshoyet had hardly seen any tourists other than us, probably because our tour group was the only one allowed to conduct overland tours in the country, and such a tour would be the only one to find its way to this town. The people at the market were extremely friendly, and unlike Ashgabat where taking pictures was a no-no in most places, the people here insisted on having their photographs taken, and would come up to you multiple times!

But what about Shah Rukh Khan? Ah yes. Other than spying someone watching “Kal Ho Na Ho” in a tiny video store in the Ashgabat market, I had not come across my fellow countryman anywhere between Ashgabat and the the border. HAt the border, however, the story was completely different. The Turkmens, and as I was about to find out, the Uzbeks, love paperwork and documents and things in triplicate. Having a twenty passenger truck carrying people from England to China by road, and supplies for such a journey, made things more complicated as well. That is, until they saw me. At first the border guard looked at me and asked “Indee”? As soon as I said yes, yes face broke into a smile, revealing his golden teeth (another Turkmen feature), and he blurted out “Shah Rukh Khan?”. Seeing vigorous head-nodding from me, he continued, encouraged, “Juhi Chawla?”, to which I replied “Aishwarya Rai?”, and we became the best of friends after that. Guards came from both sides of the border, and to everyone, the magic word was Shah Rukh Khan. My fellow-travellers were flabbergasted at this, and to them it was quite the experience. Once again, when we reached the Uzbek checkpost, like clockwork, the questions followed- “Hindoostani?”, “Shah Rukh Khan?”. And then a smile. We were on the bus, waiting for the final checkpoint, when a lady sitting next to the bus saw me, and started dancing Bollywood style.

In the modern world, we get very jaded and hardly think about things. The Raj Kapoor story that I had read would seem to out of place in New York or London or anywhere else, where people are just used to seeing Indians all over the place. Yet here, in Turkmenistan, and the few hours that I have been in Uzbekistan, I’ve suddenly become the symbol of Bollywood- the closest they can, or for that matter I can, get to Shah Rukh Khan. I have another ten days in Uzbekistan, and while there are definitely more tourists here than Turkmenistan, I’m sure there’ll be a lot more adventures here.

Note: For two weeks, I am traveling across Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan by road with Dragoman Overland. The overland experience is a unique adventure in and of itself, with the truck, personalities of fellow travelers, and people you encounter in remote parts of the world. This is the first experience of many to come by on the trip.

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Delhi Airport – First Class Infrastructure still needs First Class People

April 21st, 2006 Amit No comments

Its around 4am so pardon me if my judgement is partially tainted by
fatigue-infested neurons. On my visits to India, I normally come in
through Chennai. The airport may be small, not particularly slick,
but the staff is friendly, courteous, and efficient. I was therefore
a little taken aback earlier today at the Delhi Indira Gandhi
International Airport, where despite the modern facilities, the staff
still appeared to be from the dark ages, when flying in and out of
India was a nightmare.

It first started at the baggage screening, where the attendant at the
baggage area persuaded an Italian couple to give him a Rs. 500 “gift”
for having their bags moved through screening. This was in front of
higher officials who chose to turn a blind eye towards such activity.
A slight contrast to Chennai where I’ve not come across this, or the
Mumbai airport where staff would wear jackets stating that they do
not accept tips.

At the immigration counter, despite having ten open counters the
lines were moving slowly. The gentleman at my counter, Mr. Praveen
Kumar, decided that taking fifteen minute breaks in five minute
intervals would really endear him to weary travelers at two in the
morning. Of course there were no customer service or senior officials
around for us poor travelers to request either a change of line or
another officer. We waited, and subjected ourselves to Mr. Kumar’s
dedicated work schedule. I am sure he had certain reasons for taking
such breaks, but whatever they were, having them not affect the flow
of passengers would have been helpful.

However, the person who really made me upset with Delhi Airport was
the security guard allowing people to board. Once the announcement
came for boarding, as usual a long line formed at the entrance.
Business class passengers were being let through the side, and
Turkish Airlines staff were checking boarding passes to verify that
it was indeed business class passengers who were boarding. Unlike
flights to the UK and Europe from Chennai or Mumbai, Indians in
Business Class were the minority here, i.e. just one, me. Despite
having my boarding pass checked and verified by the staff, the
security guard, without even checking my boarding pass rudely asked
me to head over to the back of the line.

Overall, I was a lot more satisfied by the professional service of
the smaller, less-equipped Chennai airport than the large, fancy, yet
human-unfriendly Delhi Airport.