Background

The 2008 International Education and Resource Network (iEARN) Conference in Uzbekistan was to be the venue for launch of our new language site www.lingoworld.org. The Conference was also to be the occasion for presentation to iEARN of certificates representing the organisation's five shares in OurWorld Internet Services Ltd.

The conference was cancelled at the last minute following a series of massive explosions close to the venue during the night of 9/10 July 2008. This narrative is Charles Brewster's personal account of experiences trying to travel to the conference in Bukhara, and of events during the following week.

Early Morning Arrival in Tashkent, Uzbekistan

The last thing I did before leaving Abercrave at 05.30 on Thursday 10th July (Uzbekistan time 09.30 am) was check my emails. Jane delivered me to Swansea bus station for the four hour coach journey to London Heathrow Airport to catch the Aeroflot flight to Tashkent via Sheremetyevo, Moscow.

There was plenty of time to catch up on reading about Uzbekistan in the Lonely Planet "Central Asia" guide book which had arrived from Amazon a couple of days before, following my trip to London to collect my visa from the Embassy there.

After an uneventful journey, the first experience of Uzbekistan was stepping out onto the steps from the aircraft at 03.15 local time into a muggy heat of about 30°C (86°F), and the thought that this was going to be a hot week.

Once inside the terminal building, I was confronted by a long, disorganised, and very slow moving melange of queues at the immigration barrier. I was however pleasantly surprised to find a money exchange booth open, and was able to change US $100 into Uzbek Sums, the local currency, while waiting.

With my visa finally stamped, I was confronted by the form-filling which is the Uzbek Customs welcome to their country and its ways. Two copies to be filled out detailing the exact amounts (in figures and words) of every currency you have, every item of electronic equipment, every tablet of medication; this checked against close examination of every item of baggage.

I emerged into the early morning daylight of Tashkent planning to grab some breakfast at the airport, and then take a bus into the city railway station. The intention was to get tickets for the overnight train running the 600 km (approx 400 miles) southwest to Bukhara, via Samarkand.

My only uncertainties were (1) whether trains were still leaving from the South Station in Tashkent (as per a recent travellers blog on the 'net) or whether the closer Main Station had been refurbished, and (2) whether I could find a Left Luggage Office and explore around the city a bit, or would have to sit on my luggage for however many hours until the train departure time.

A Surprise

Although I'd notified the Conference Organisers of my flight times, I'd not expected, asked for, or been offered any direct assistance in Tashkent, so I was surprised to see a man standing by the airport arrivals area with "Charles Brewster" printed on a piece of card.

He said (without any identification produced) that he was from Advantour, the company who, at the behest of the Conference Organisers, had issued the Letter of Invitation necessary for me to get my Uzbek visa. Then he said that I had to pay US $15 for him to take me into the city. I said that I didn't have to do any such thing, that I hadn't asked to be met, and that I was going to wait at the airport until the busses started running, then make my own way to the station and get the train for Bukhara.

He said that it wasn't possible for me to get a bus from the airport. I knew this was untrue, so I told him the bus number and pointed out a nearby bus stop, which seemed to throw him a bit. I said I was going to the airport restaurant to get some breakfast. He then started telling me that the restaurant wouldn't take anything but local currency, and was further thrown when I assured him I had Uzbek Sums and that this didn't present a problem.

Next he began telling me that there had been an explosion in Bukhara, and that I couldn't get a train there. Having already caught him in one lie (about the bus from the airport), I was disinclined to believe anything else he told me, particularly as it sounded as if he was making stuff up as he went along. Had he offered some documentary support, it might have been more convincing, but I'd just been reading the Lonely Planet piece on "Airport Scams" and was fairly sure I was being taken for a victim of some novel variant.

He said that he had been told to deliver me to Hotel Poytaht in Tashkent, and that this accomodation would cost me US $50 per night. I said there was no way that I was going along with any such thing, and that he could leave me there at the airport where I was, thank you.

He was clearly concerned that my refusal to play along would cause him difficulty, and that he had to contact his boss at Advantour. I said this was his problem, not mine.

Next he began talking sense. He pointed out that the airport restaurant was expensive, and assured me that he knew a place a few hundred metres down the road where I could eat much more cheaply. If I came there with him, we could share some breakfast, he would try to contact his boss (it was still before 06.00 am local time), and if I really wanted, he would take me back afterwards to the airport and I could then do as I pleased, no longer his responsibility.

Reluctantly I loaded my luggage into the back of his car, and off we drove to the local's breakfast stop a short distance away. As we shared fried eggs, local bread, and chai (local tea in black or green varieties), he managed to raise someone on his mobile phone (mine wouldn't work there with a UK SIM card). He told me now that the conference had been cancelled because of an explosion in a munitions store near Bukhara, and that all that was now going to happen in the week ahead was some "small meetings" in Tashkent or Samarkand.

Clearly something amiss was happening or had happened, and I felt I had to regain control of the situation by getting lodged somewhere in Tashkent while I tried to find out what was going on from some trustworthy source. The guy agreed that I could stay wherever I liked, and I pulled out the Lonely Planet Guide and started browsing down the 'Budget' accomodation options for the city. He looked at these, knew them all, and said he was happy to drive me to whichever I could find that had vacancies. Phoning ahead wasn't a viable option at that time in the morning, but he did try some of the numbers in the book, and was genuinely trying to be helpful.

B+B Ali Tour

I agreed to pony up US $15 for a ride round to find somewhere to stay; my luggage was by now in the back of his car anyway.

First we went to the cheapest reasonable-sounding option, 'Gulnara Guesthouse', which was some distance away in the 'Old City' area, but unfortunately they were full up. Next stop was 'B+B Ali Tour', a bit more expensive, but with a more central location on Vosit Vohidov Street, and an "Our Pick" recommendation in Lonely Planet. They had an air-conditioned room for $25 with ensuite bathroom, but said if I shared with someone it would only be $20. They were happy for me to hang around with my bags until the room was free at midday.



As I talked with traveller guests emerging for breakfast at the al-fresco tables outside "Reception" (not the hotel office, but a guest room, of which more later), it was clear that there had indeed been a very recent incident near Bukhara, of which news was being suppressed in Uzbekistan. People were interested because the information I had through the guy who met me at the airport was seemingly more up-to-the-minute than anything they could find out from local media. There was said to be something on the BBC News website, but that was censored in Uzbekistan. Someone also knew of a brief story having been reported on a Russian sattelite TV station.

Gaining earlier-than-expected access to the room, I lapsed into sleep for a few hours. On waking I walked the few hundred metres to the closest Internet access point and checked my emails. The "Conference Cancelled" message from conference organiser Anatoly Kochnev - 'Tolik' - had arrived at 10.59 the previous day, some five and a half hours after I left home. I sent in a reply advising of my arrival in Tashkent, my whereabouts, and requesting contact, with a commitment to staying around 'B+B Ali Tour' during the rest of the day.

No contact that Thursday evening - reference to Bob Hofman's personal account of events explains why.

I was able to confirm that a Google search for "news" and "Bukhara" turned up a link to a BBC News story, and that said link just routed to MSN's home page. Pinged the BBC site and tried to access it using the IP numbers - same result. Noticed that the Google quote of the page's description tag referenced Reuters, and was pleased to find that the Uzbek censors hadn't trapped the story there: Uzbekistan arms depot blast kills 3. The suggestion that a blast in a town which was powerful enough to shatter windows 12 kilometres away only resulted in three fatalities (as the official version had it) seemed not to be credible.

Meeting up with iEARN Conference Delegates

On the Friday morning I decided to walk across to Hotel Poytaht a couple of kilometres away to see if any other delegates to the iEARN Conference had been lodged there. Immediately recognised several friends and colleagues who had been evacuated from Bukhara, where they had convened before the conference for the meeting of the iEARN Assembly - the organisation's governing body. Established that chance of early refund on conference registration fees paid in respect of accomodation was zero. Having Aeroflot rewrite my return ticket looked possible, but expensive, so decided to speak with 'B+B Ali Tour' to try to stay there affordably until my booked return flight more than a week ahead.

Ali and his wife, Jila, were most helpful. The "Reception Room" was to become vacant the following day, and, although lacking air-conditioning and ensuite facilites, at $15 per night, I judged I could eke out available funds to be lodged there, perhaps fit in a train excursion to Samarkand, and even an opportunity to have a look at the mountains around Chimgan, some 50 miles east of Tashkent.

Joined iEARN Conference delegates for lunch at Hotel Poytaht on Saturday, and comandeered the dining room for presentation of certificates representing the organisation's shareholding in OurWorld Internet - picture linked from Bob Hofman's narrative:



In the evening we met again to celebrate Bob's birthday at the Salvador Dali restaurant in Tashkent. No formal opportunity was available to deliver the LingoWorld site launch presentation which had been prepared as my contribution to the Conference, but the company's WalkOurWorld site, as well as LingoWorld, were amply demonstrated in the stand-alone laptop versions to interested travellers, including some teachers, at 'B+B Ali Tour' during the week.

A week of cheap living in Tashkent

Tashkent is hot, dry, and dusty during the summer months, although there is a pleasing profusion of trees so that walking around can be accomplished in shade roughly 50% of the time.



The public transport systems are cheap and reliable, with the Metro underground railway the jewel-in-the-crown. Sadly no pictures due to heeded warnings in Lonely Planet about it's origins as a network of Soviet Era bomb shelters, and continuing sensitivity about photography. The first time I used the system, I was shaken down for my passport twice by separate groups of police/militia officers between getting off the train and reaching street level. Just routine harassment, but a reminder of the pervasiveness of surveillance which local people put up with all the time.

The closest staion was 'Kosmonavlar' ('Cosmonauts'), where the platforms were decorated with magnificent ceramic bas-relief murals celebrating the achievements of Yuri Gagarin and other Soviet pioneers of the Space Race in the 20th Century. A flat-fare of 300 Sum (about 13p in UK money) would take a passenger anywhere on the system; the same "Fare's Fair" principle applied along each of the city's bus routes, evoking memories of the late-lamented policy of that name which used to exist in London for a short while in the 1970s.

Public transport made ability to read Cyrillic almost obligatory. Although the Uzbek language is written using Roman characters, Russian influence has led to their alphabet being predominant on public signboards across the transport system. 'Read Cyrillic or get lost' is pretty much the message in practical terms. A lesson quickly absorbed.

'Marshrutka' travel is also a cheap way to get about. These shared minibus vehicles have parking and loading areas set aside close to end-of-line Metro stations for passengers heading for destinations in the city outskirts and beyond. My first experience of this came on Tuesday 15th July when I decided to make the best of my time in Uzbekistan, and at least try to capture a mountain experience for WalkOurWorld.

A Day in the Mountains

Chimgan, in the Ugam-Chaktal National Park, is a ski resort in winter. Developed in Soviet times, the facilities look due for some refurbishment, but they say the snow there is reliable and the powder quality as good as anywhere.

From the Metro station at Buyuk Ipak Yuli, the end of the line running towards the northeast in Tashkent, the journey is in two stages. First a 'marshrutka' shared minibus ride some 50 km to Gazalkent (cost 1500 Sums, about 60 pence in UK money). I found people helpful in directing me to the correct vehicle. It was a pleasant drive first through suburbs, then following the Chirchiq River valley upstream.

Once at Gazalkent, the trick is not to appear to be in any hurry. Taxi drivers were trying to press me into paying 12000 Sums for immediate departure, but waiting around for some other people going the same way brought the cost for the last 25 km over the mountain road to Chimgan down to 3000 Sums once a full car-load was assembled. I didn't have to wait more than about 10 minutes.



The obvious walk up Little Chimgan mountain climbs what would be a ski-run in winter, to the west of the chairlift. Big Chimgan overlooking the village to the south would be an altogether more serious undertaking. The circular walk passing by the top chairlift station will soon be described in detail on WalkOurWorld.



The journey back to Tashkent was equally straightforward, waiting a while for a car-load of passengers to Gazalkent, then making sure to board the correct 'marshrutka' back to the city.

As the taxi hurtled down the mountain road, it stopped to pick up a couple more passengers. One of these was a lady who had been selling fruit by the roadside. On discovering that I was a visitor to the country she showered me with apples from her left-over stock and absolutely refused to take payment, also sharing produce from the stall with everyone else in the car.

In all a most enjoyable day. Nice to get away from the sweltering heat of Tashkent, out into some cool breeze and even a brief rain shower. People helpful and friendly throughout, even the taxi drivers, once they realised they weren't going to get a single-person hire.

Doing the Tourist Thing in Samarkand

I bought my train tickets for Samarkand on the Monday from the Main Station in Tashkent to travel on the Thursday. Trains to the southwest are still using the South Station, which is a short bus ride (Number 58) from the city centre. No difficulty catching bus to get there for the 07.00 departure. Ticket was 2nd Class but entirely comfortable, with a central table in the compartment laid out with a chai pot and cups neatly arranged for everyone on a clean white tablecloth.

The journey took three and a half hours, passing first through flat arable landscape, then becoming more arid with mountains visible to either side. Lunch packs with rolls, and tea-bag for the chai pot, were delivered to everyone as part of the ticket price, and hot water was provided. Cost was 14000 Sums each way (about 5 pounds, or US $10) for the 400 km (250 miles) journey.

The station in Samarkand is about 5 km to the north of the city. A Number 3 'marshrutka' takes passengers to Registan Square in the centre for 400 Sums. It was a hectic ride, with the driver involved in a furious argument with someone on his mobile phone for much of the high-speed journey. Not with the device to his ear, but shouting directly at it, holding it in front of him, pausing only to spit in disgust occasionally out of the window. I couldn't understand a word, but the passengers were all exchanging glances of amusement.



I found the three main Medrassah buildings of the Registan most impressive. Admission (which at 6200 Sums was almost double the figure in the Lonely Planet guide) covers access to all three buildings. Was a bit surprised that visitors weren't asked to remove footwear, which one would expect to do before entering a mosque.



After a good look round and managing to buy postcards, tried to find somewhere to get a couple of cooked eggs for lunch. In the end bought some eggs from a street stall, then carried them up to a pavement restaurant I'd called at earlier and asked the chef to prepare. He was a tad bemused, but happy to oblige.

Got back to the staion in good time for the 17.00 train back to Tashkent, and spent some time looking round a huge market area.

Reflections - Positive

Above all the helpful and friendly forbearance of almost all the Uzbek people I encountered during the week, on public transport, in markets, chai houses, shops, and just passing by on the street. As a complete stranger to their culture and language, I was made welcome and couldn't have asked for more forthright assistance in getting the best from a bad situation.

Doing my best to make like an Uzbek in how I got about, what I ate, and adopting their acceptance of life-as-it-is, made it possible to eke out my "beer & excursion" funds to enjoy as full an experience of the country as could have been possible in the circumstances.

Reflections - Negative

It is sometimes suggested that people get the government they deserve, but in the case of Uzbekistan nothing would appear to be further from the truth. Having the 15th iEARN Conference & Youth Summit in their country should have been an opportunity for the Uzbek authorities to showcase the best aspects of their national culture and education achievements to a positively motivated audience of seasoned international travellers, professionals, and specalists in their particular fields.

Ironically, what appears to have been a tragic accident resulted in this same audience (or sections of it who had travelled before notification of cancellation could be sent out) experiencing just a little of the negative aspects of everyday life in the country.

Being met by a tour company representative who lied (very transparently to anyone who had done the most basic homework on their destination) and tried to extort money, despite his company already having been paid (handsomely I believe) for the bureaucratic formality of a letter of invitation, was not a good start.

Finding directly that reputable and authoritative news sources like the BBC website were crudely censored was also a rude awakening. That they missed Reuters just made the effort look incompetently amateurish, as if they couldn't even get that right.

Being shaken down for "papers" while using public transport rubbed home the petty irritations of harrassment so beloved by police states.

Discovering that the night porter at my place of accomodation, who appeared to be whiling away his shift hand-writing his first novel in a school exercise book, was in fact noting in meticulous detail every movement in or out of the premises, or even between guests rooms, as some sort of surveillance operation, was a jolt. (Evidence on application.) It just made one feel one was living in some bizarre corner of the world of 'Alice in Wonderland'.

Saddest of all, the transparent official lies about the incident near Bukhara which led to the cancellation of the conference. Three fatalities from a blast which breaks windows 8 miles away in a populated area is patently absurd and untrue. All such a narrative does is to give credence to unofficial eyewitness accounts which might otherwise be considered unreliable.

If, as reported, three thousand people lost their lives as a result of the tragedy, respect for those people, and recognition for the efforts of those who fought and may still be fighting to mitigate the consequences, should demand accurate and honest reporting. This event has been a national tragedy for the Uzbek people, a total disaster for the small town of Kagan, and in the region round about, including the historic city of Bukhara.

If, as reported in travellers tales, part of the munitions dump which exploded was beneath a hospital, possibly unbeknown to the Uzbek authorities before the event, this should be admitted. There could be other disasters waiting to happen in former Soviet territories. People living with such dangers deserve to know about it, and the international community should have the opportunity to come forward with assistance to put these instances of historical nastiness to rights.

It's been an interesting and eye-opening week.

Charles Brewster
July 2008