Monday afternoon

Before leaving my hotel this morning, I emailed my brother Clay to say where I was headed. I suppose it's no different than most of my trip, where no one knows where I am, just where I've been. But this time I was to travel several hours in a car alone to the middle of the desert to stay in a yurt I knew not where, and perhaps alone.

Sherzod picked me up a little before 9am, and we wound our way out of Samarkand, down a highway bordered by herds of sheep and sometimes cattle. I saw shepherds on foot, on donkeys and one with an old motorcycle. We stopped to wait for the animals to pass. Soon the cotton fields came into view, and eventually this too gave way to the sand.

Sherzod learned English in Singapore and Malaysia, after attending university with a major in international relations. After working in other fields, he now runs a community based tourism service. His company markets and arranges things like this yurt stay, home stays, camel riding in the area around Lake Aidarkul, a salt lake in the middle of the Kyzylkum Desert.  We talked periodically, with long comfortable silences between. His education made him an ideal person to ask about politics in Uzbekistan. He told me somewhat sheepishly that his father is a retired KGB officer. I said, 'but you're not Russian', and he said all nationalities could work for the KGB. He remembers the Soviet days, and talked about the hardships that immediately followed independence. The Soviets had not allowed any regional infrastructure, in hopes of deterring attempts at independence. In this area, the Soviets planted cotton, and in the process of watering it, the Aral Sea has been catastrophically reduced.  Then when the Soviets pulled out around 1990, there was no one to sell the cotton to, no one to pay the workers, no jobs for many people for a while. The region had been made almost wholly dependent on Moscow over the years. Sherzod said that unemployment is still high, but the country has developed significantly, economically and in terms of infrastructure. While technically a democracy, the sitting president has been overwhelmingly re-elected for many years, and he has tremendous power. However he is old now, and the next election is in February. Sherzod said that it is no longer verboten to speak critically of the government. So we shall see.

When we stopped for gas (natural gas, not petrol), I had to get out of the car and join the other waiting passengers in the shade. No one but the driver can enter the station. I took my pack with me, and Sherzod did not seem to take offence.  There were sometimes explosions at these gas stations in the old days, which I guess is why passengers may not enter-limit the collateral damage.

At Yongqishloq a new driver took over. I never learned his name. He was younger, and spoke only a little English. He did point out some men mining for gold along the way. And every time I lifted my camera, he would let off the gas and say "stop?

At about 1:10 we arrived at the yurt camp. The driver found an old nan who wordlessly led me to my yurt. He pointed out 'toilet'. I had not used the bathroom since we left and had avoided eating or drinking because I wasn't sure about toilet availability along the way. I figured if I had asked, one would be found, but by the time I considered it, I just really wanted the drive done.

Surprisingly, no pit toilets here, western style instead-the building is rudimentary, unlit and no door. But my expectations were low, so I was pleasantly surprised.

Then food-I ate what was put before me, there is no menu of course. Actually, I ate some of each thing. They brought me three whole tomatoes and four small cucumbers (make your own salad?), bread, a dish of squash, onions and some really good sauce, a dish of mushrooms, tomatoes and other unknown ingredients, a bowl of soup, and of course chai. I tried it all, then left and wandered out a bit into the desert. Coming back, I saw one of the men coming to get me, saying lunch. I said no, I am done, but he said second lunch rather insistently. So I followed just to see what he meant. It turns out there were two more dishes- a dumpling dish, and a plate of fruit. I don't know how one person could possibly eat all they gave me. I didn't try. I tasted both of the new dishes and left again.

There seems to be no one else here, although another table was set for lunch. I may be the only guest.

On the agenda: ride a camel to the lake, relax, read, doze and wander in the desert (without getting lost), for the rest of today and tomorrow. Sherzod is to pick me up Wednesday morning and transport me to Bukhara, where I shall magically become one year older.