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We picked up a new driver today for our drive to the Fergana Valley and final full day in Uzbekistan. I'm catching up on this entry after being without the internet for a few days so my memory is a little vague but I do remember that the scenery up the pass was quite impressive, though no different from that we've already experienced. We stopped at a good vantage point to make the most of the views and Rusty asked me to take some photos of him with the mountains in the background. Of course I obliged!
The road this side of the pass was tarmac and in a very good condition but as we reached the top and began our descent, the hard surface was increasingly giving way to potholes and mud. There is a programme to resurface the entire pass road and the hoards of workmen were testament to that aim but the going seems slow with no evident completion date in sight. We drove through 2 unlit tunnels, 1000m and 500m long and just before entering Rusty kindly forewarned me to get the camera ready for some 'nice photos'. The only trouble was that the windows in our people carrier only opened ajar so it was a bit tricky, even for my eager snap happy fingers, to squeeze through and do the tunnels justice. Besides, I think the brigade of troops dotted all over the pass would object to finding themselves plastered all over the blog! I let the moment pass (nice pun eh) content that the event would be recorded merely as a blog entry.
The troops, however, were not present to oversee only the construction of the road project but were there instead to maintain the peace between the 'troublesome people' of the Fergana Valley, who were apparently demonstrating constantly for the creation of their own autonomous region.
Rusty persuaded us to pop into a ceramic demonstration 'factory' as the pottery made in the region is 'unique and beautiful'. Having enjoyed a similar visit in Turkey we agreed, curious to see what Uzbekistan had to offer. We were not all that impressed but hung around to be polite, admiringly watching the potters' wheel demonstration and showing a keen interest as we looked at, and commented on, the various plates, jugs and tiles on display at the home of the family run business. It's not that the lovingly made ceramic is bad, it's just that we've seen some fantastic work in Turkey that we think is far superior and consequently hard to match.
We reached the Asia hotel about 1500 and in the process of unloading the car noticed that some stitching on Maria's rucksack was broken and made a mental note to fix it very soon. We checked in to the clearly Russian influenced room with decor to match that in the Raddus JSS in Tashkent and were annoyed to discover that wifi cost €1 per hour. Maria bit the bullet, for fear of spending hours driving around in taxis to find another free wifi establishment, and went so that she could plan the next legs of our trip while I headed downstairs to the gym for a yoga workout.
Dinner was at 1930 and we headed across the yard to an empty restaurant manned by 5 young lads who were totally lovely and clearly keen on Maria. One of them who seemed to have taken a particular shine to her undid the top of her water bottle and poured Maria a glass of water. He didn't undo mine, however, but I forgave him as he was so warm and friendly. When he noticed Maria's glass getting empty he dashed the 20 feet from the main door where they are all standing smartly, arms behind their backs and recharged her glass. I forgave him again as I topped up my own glass. When he saw Maria lighting up, piff, paff, puff, there was again with an ashtray. It's just as well I don't smoke as I'd be stubbing my butt out on the floor by now! Maria asked Rusty how to say 'you're cute' in Tajik and when he returned she uttered the just about passable words to the lad. He smiled, blushed slightly then went back to his post pleased as punch that his hard work has paid off.
Then, before we knew it, we had service fit for a khan from all of the lads who were now less shy and keen to practice their English, and even get a compliment from their foreign Rose. They proudly announced that we were to have apple pie for dessert and loitered politely to see if our verdict of the pudding matched their expectation. It did.
We said lots of ciaos and goodbyes then spent an hour chatting with Rusty in the lounge where he recounted stories about my weeing habits, much to his amusement.
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