Kokand




Towards the end of the day, we hopped on yet another Mashrutka to Kokand, the first major city one encounters when driving into the Fergana Valley, and the last when leaving it.

The site that Kokand sits on has been inhabited since at least the 10th century, but the Mongols staged a concert there during their 1221 world tour, and the after party left the place pretty much depopulated. The current town dates from 1732- so it's not terribly old, but it has a wonderful feel to it. The city is clean and well laid out, and has a number of parks, small and large.


pleasant city park


pleasant...tree lined avenues?


The first thing we did was find a hotel. The Lonely Planet guide says that there is only one hotel in the city, the appropriately named Hotel Kokand- they, however, strongly recommend against setting foot in this establishment as it is somewhat less than, well, clean. In fact, the LP recommends that you keep on truckin' and sleep in a totally different city.

The Odyssey Guide, on the other hand, claims that there is a hotel at 92 Furkat street called the Hotel Oktyaber. We decided to search this out. It's near the bazaar, and is totally unmarked. when you enter the doors, you walk into a dimly lit cavernous hall with a staircase leading up, said staircase passing in front of a huge 2 story high grime encrusted mural showing workers and peasants laboring happily together. On the second floor is the hotel. It costs 1200 sum per night ($1).

The woman in charge of the place was clearly not enthused about our wanting to stay there. The hotel is very basic- each room has 4 beds, there is only one toilet for the whole building, little light, and no heat. It is the kind of place where farmers coming into town to sell their goods at the bazaar stay before they return to the countryside. It was old, but relatively clean.

The lady running the place thought that this was no place for a lady (such as my CFO), and insisted that we go to the "nice" place in town, the Hotel Kokand. So we did. This is not that unusual- quite a few times business people will try to steer you away from their services based on the fact that they aren't "good enough" for foreigners. Trying to buy a 3rd class rail ticket, for example, is practically impossible. When we were travelling from Samarqand to Tashkent we had to talk to the station agent for 15 minutes just to get second instead of first. (and when we took the train, they gave us, but no one else in the train car, the 1st class meal). Coming from the most capitalist of countries, this is odd to me. No one willingly turns down business in New York.

The Hotel Kokand is actually not that different from the Hotel Oktyaber. Except the adjectives "clean" and "relatively clean" can in no way describe the horror show that is this hotel.

We settled for the "nicer" $12 suite vs. the cheaper and even nastier $9 room.


The fanciest room at the Hotel Kokand. The white stuff on the mirror? That's dust.

I won't get too deep into this, as we'll complete the description of the hotel later. Needless to say, we left the hotel as soon as it was possible to see the city.

The centerpiece of the town is the palace of Khudayar Khan- although Kokand is a bit of a backwater now, back in the 18th century it was the center of a relatively powerful Khanate. At one time, the Khanate of Kokand even took over Tashkent, but by the end of the 18th century it was being pressured by both the Emirate of Bukhara and the Qing dynasty of China. (Chinese claims to soveriegnty in the Fergana valley date to the tribute paid by Kokand to the Qing).

Khudayar's palace is not nearly as fancy as those in the great triumvirate of Khiva, Samarqand, and Bukhara- but it is well preserved.


Khudayar's Palace

The palace is fronted by the city's biggest park. The guidebook claims that there is an old YAK-40 airplane here that was converted into a children's cinema; but a few years ago that was removed (sadly).



It costs a few bucks to get into the palace (everything here costs about $2.25 to get into- given that this is the price of a meal, it's a tad outrageous). Inside the palace are a number of rooms and courtyards.


Central Courtyard

The Soviet tradition of having odd junk on display that appears out of place in tits chosen setting is alive and well here in Uzbekistan.


A display of local Taxidermy?

The Khan lived pretty well, in a series of apartments that are well maintained by the local museum staff.


The breakfast room (?)






The level of handicraft displayed is quite advanced, and the detail work is well preserved. The staff at this museum is large for a place that isn't so big, and it's obvious that the city intends to take good care of its palace. Some restoration work is going on on the central courtyard Iwan, but most of the palace is in pristine condition- or as near pristine as it can be after being conqoured by the Bukharans, then the Russians, and then re-conqoured by the Bolsheviks.


Wall Carvings




The carved wooden capitol of an Iwan column

There is a woman at the museum who runs the place named Manzurahon Mansurova. She speaks absolutely perfect, almost accentless English. This is quite surprising, as very few English speaking folks get to Uzbekistan, much less to the Fergana Valley, and even less so to Kokand.

As we were chatting Manzurahon asked us if we would like her to arrange a homestay for us. We replied that we had already made arrangements at the Hotel Kokand, and a look of extreme concern passed over her face. "Oh dear!... that's a rather...'dreadful' place actually." she said. Speaking in Uzbekm she relayed the news of our unfortunate situation to her colleagues, who also expressed shock and dismay (I assume). Some of them may have actually made hand signals to ward off the evil eye at the mention of the words "Hotel Kokand."

After seeing the museum, we strolled around the park a bit, and as we were heading toward the hotel we saw Manzurahon and some of the other museum folks walking home from work.

I figured that Manzurahon would love a chance to practice English with some native speakers (well one native speaker at least), so I suggested to my wife that we invite her out for tea at one of the local Chaikhana. I imagined that she would likely enjoy an hour or so of conversation (I know I always enjoy having tea with foreigners myself).

She told us that, unfortunately, she was headed towards her sister's house. We expressed regret, but she then insisted that we accompany her. I myself didn't want to feel like a cad, inviting myself to her sister's house, but she replied that it was no imposition at all- and rather insisted that we go.

When we arrived, unexpectedly, at the place her sister was basically in a house coat, but quickly changed into regular clothes. (we really were unanticipated guests!).

They immediately cooked and sat out a huge feast for us; including plov (the national rice dish), Non, persimmons, raisins, grapes, fruits of all types, sweets, and black and green tea.


Uzbek food for the random house guest

Keep in mid that we had met this woman 30 minutes earlier for the first time. Other members of the family started drifting in, including Manzurahons 3 sisters, her brother, and a numerous amount of children.


The Manzurova Crew

Her brother was a big soccer fan, and had just returned from working with the local soccer team. I indicated that I was disappointed because I had been looking for a Paktakor Team Shirt (Paktakor is Tashkent's football team) but had no luck. Her brother immediately removed his jacket and revelaed that he was wearign a brand new UFF (Uzbekistan Football Federation) shirt. He literally peeled it off and gave me the shirt off his back.

This, to me, is the essence of the Muslim world- Hospitality. As Manzurahon said, the Uzbek's have a saying that "The food you give to Guests, Allah gives back to you."

The news may show freaky Pathans and wacked out islamofascists with great frequency, but of all the muslim countries I have been to (granted, that's only 4; Morrocco, Kosovo, Turkey, and Uzbekistan- if you don't count Jersey City, which is arguably an exclave of the Pakistan's Northwest Frontier Province) I have always been recieved with the utmost of courtesy, respect, and genuine friendliness. You can expect the same reception in Uzbekistan.

Had we spoken Uzbek, or better Russian, we could have eaten and slept in people's homes every night. Not a day passed without some sort of invitation.

After about 4 hours of constant eating and talking, we began to get quite tired. Manzurahon's sister offered to let us sleep at her place, but we didn't want to take total advantage of her hospitality, we had already paid for the Hotel Kokand, and both my wife and I had a sort of tourist machismo thing going on- a "there's no hotel so nasty we can't hack it" sort of attitude. This turned out to be a mistake. I believe we were exibiting what the Greeks would have called Hubris.


This TV hasn't worked since it broadcast news of Krushchev's passing

The suite actually had a bathroom, of sorts. the bathroom, however, had no toilet (although there had obviously been one here at one time, perhaps it was looted by the Mongels?); and the bathtub consisted of an orange stained tub with a pipe above it that constantly dripped cruddy ferric smelling water.


The bathtub

All of this I can handle. We decided to sleep in our clothes- not like that hasn't happened before. This isn't as bad, I thought, as sleeping in the Belgrade Train station. The Belgrade train station waiting room, after all, smells of cheese-feet. That's just as nasty as it sounds. Actually, its a bit nastier than it sounds. Have you ever been unable to fall asleep because of a smell? No? Then you haven't been to the Belrade train station. (and you haven't had to share an apartment with Portuguese salted cod, either).

The real problem was the toilet.

there was one per floor, and you couldn't miss it. As soon as you left the room the stank of something evil greeted you. This toilet was not only a squatter, it was an actual portal to the underworld. And a relatively unsavoury part of the underworld at that.


The actual portal to the underworld. Say hello to Dante and Virgil when you get there.


Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

I resolved not to resist nature's insistent demands, but eventually I found myself confronting a rather delicate engineering problem.

WARNING- THE SQUEAMISH MAY LEAVE OFF READING NOW!

Here's the deal with squatters for those of us who wear trousers. When you drop those trousers and squat down, your pants make a little net directly underneath you and, believe me, you don't want to catch anything in that there net.

I surveyed the situation and saw that there was a lovely sink just opposite the actual toilet. A brilliant Idea occured to me. I would grab the sink with both hands, then hang my butt out, wind-surfer style. Though brilliantly concieved, actual application of this plan proved difficult.
It worked perfectly, right up until the point where the sink detached itself from the wall, and sent me comically flailing my arms, attempting not to fall backwards into... who knows what.

Did you see mission impossible with Tom Cruise? Remember when he was hovering inches above the floor? Imagine me doing that, backwards, suspending myself upon my fingertips, with my pants around my ankles, repeating like a mantra "pleae don't let me touch this awful surface more than necessary."

Horrifying. The moral of this story is that, if you go to Kokand, go immediately to the museum and Get Mazurhona to arrange a home stay for you.

RETURN TO NORMAL, DECENT CONVERSATION

Kokand was the last place in the coutnry that we saw. We hired a chared taxi to take us from Kokand to Tashkent for about $25, the taxi driver dropped us off at Maxim Gorky Metro, and we spent one night in the Grand Orzu hotel. ($25)


I saw this on the ride back into Tashkent. God Bless America!

The staff at the Orzu was friendly and helpful, and it was nicely located to do a bit of last minute shopping. It is very near a place on Usman Nosir street called "Human House", a shop that has a number of great things on sale. Bolts of raw silk, handicrafts, and fashion (the dresses are all really well made, and unique- My wife bought a dress she wore to the Met in NYC, blowing away the other ladies there, for $90).

Also near the hotel is the "Skynet" internet cafe. (Open 24 hours) You can rent the computer for $0.50 per hour. Our plane left tashkent at 4 AM, so the very last night, instead of paying for a hotel room, I played "Call of Duty" against Uzbek teenagers from 10 AM until 2 AM. All for about $2, then had them call me a cab for the airport. The Teens speak some English, and they definitely speak microsoft.


The Orzu also isn't too far from the "Caravan Art Cafe" Honestly, if you are flying out the next morning, its late at night, and you still haven't finished your shopping for gifts, then you have to come here. Whatever you didn't buy in Bukhara, Samarqand, or Nukus you can pick up here for reasonable prices.

But the restaurant attached to the shop is ridiculous. I have been in a lot of snooty places (I live just across the river from Greenwich Village, the scond snootiest place on the face of the earth after the left bank in Paris) but even the most pompous of New Yorkers wouldn't match these folks for attitude.

First off the cafe is way overpriced, (A beer and a sandwich for twice the price of a 6 hour taxi ride? I think not). The food is also "middle eastern," which is wierd, because we aren't in the middle east.

I took one photo of the place before the irate waiter stalked over and told us that "photography is not allowed in here!" This was the only time she actually showed any interest in us all night.


The illicit photo!

Apparently, they didn't want us to take pictures of the "Art" that was hanging for sale on their wall. The art is bad quality anyway. Mostly Kitschy schlock- not that I haven't sold a few kitsch photos in my time.

The staff is, of course, Russian, as Uzbeks would likely never behave in this fashion.

My point? Avoid giving them your money if you can. I had a few things left to buy, so I did, but it gave me no joy.



So, after the video gaming, we got on the plane, flew back to New York (with another 4 hours in the moscow airport) and slept for a long, long time.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed looking at this as much as I enjoyed making it, and I highly recommend that you visit Uzbekistan. It's a great place, with great people.

Except, of course, for the Taxi drivers.