Having got to bed at six o’clock in the morning the rep
said that the plan for the morning was to catch up on sleep. But with limited
time in Tashkent I decided that sleep was for wimps. I’m not convinced that “er
indoors TM” agreed, but she was scoffing brekkie with
me not three hours after we’d gone to kip.
Brekkie was odd; I had a bowl of muesli that tasted of
cheap bubblegum and followed it with a plate of cheese and curried tomatoes.
We went for a little walk. As always when anywhere new I
sparked up the geocaching map. The noble art of hunting Tupperware is still in
its infancy in Uzbekistan, but we still scored three smiley faces (it’s a
geo-thing), and as we did we found Independence Square, loads of fountains,
and a statue of Amir
Timur too.
We made our way back to the hotel. Having thought that
Uzbekistan would be random huts in a desert we’d been rather shocked to find that
Tashkent was not entirely unlike London, Paris or any other large Western city.
Once at the hotel we got a pint and sat outside watching the
busy world go by. And it was busy.
At mid-day we went to the hotel’s lobby where our group
rallied. Having gone on an organized holiday trip we knew there would be other
people with us. Half a dozen? A dozen? Our group numbered twenty-seven.
Our rep explained that he was standing in until the proper
rep arrived, and took us to what was billed as a traditional Uzbek house for a
traditional Uzbek dinner. Salad, soup, fruit… there was loads of it.
And then we got on the coach and set off to have a look
round a mosque. And a mausoleum. And the busiest food market you ever did see.
Apparently the coach couldn’t wait at the market so we took a tube train to go
find it. The Uzbek tube train was frankly amazing if for no other reason than
that it wasn’t that different to the one in London. I really wasn’t expecting that.
It was a shame that the tube train took us to where the coach was parked at the
Uzbekistan Museum of Dull Bits of Broken Pots, but there it is.
Having pretended to be enthralled by the broken pots we
went back to the hotel. This evening we had been left to fend for ourselves for
dinner, so we sat on the hotel’s verandah and had pizza and chips which we
washed down with a litre of the local beer and a gin and tonic.
Whilst we’d scoffed the cleaners had been at our room. “er
indoors TM” wasn’t impressed. She’d not wanted anyone
to clean the room as they would see it was in a “pig state sty” (to
coin a phrase).
I took
a few photos today. After yesterday’s late finish I’m feeling all in.
No comments:
Post a Comment