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Saturday 2004-06-12 - Aşgabat, Turkmenistan
Running through the museum
When we arrive at the hotel in Aşgabat I immediately see it’s the same (nice) Kopetdag hotel where we were two years ago — nearly at the end of the row of hotels on the ‘hotel street’ (all new hotels built along the same street!). That means we’ll have a good breakfast tomorrow! Shortly before four we’re all checked in, and I run off to the National Museum at the end of the street which I missed last time but closes at five — one hour will get me at least an impression this time.
Downstairs are various exhibits about the country’s history, independence from the Soviet Union and economics, as well as as small geological and natural history departments. At the latter I recognize my favorite Yellow Souslik (a kind of ground squirrel) of which I saw so many in the desert here last time. But the most curious exhibit on this floor must be the collection of editions of the “Holy Ruhnama” written by president Nyazov: one copy of every language it has been translated into. I don’t see a Dutch one…
Upstairs are the ethnological and archaeological departments. The archaeological department is interesting particularly because it matches up nicely with the archaeological exhibits in the Historical Museum in Tehrān, illustrating how several cultures lived all over this area. I was also pleased to see the objects found at excavations at the Old Nisa site, a city from Parthian times to the south of Aşgabat now being restored, where we paid a visit last time I was in Turkmenistan (2002). After having seen the walls there, it’s quite interesting to see here what was inside: an obviously very refined culture. Later I hear from Bava that the best of what was found at the site is now at the museum in Moscow and not likely to be given back. What they do have is still beautiful, such as the 18 intricately carved “rytons” (drinking horns), with finely sculpted mythical beasts such as gryphons at the end; also interesting are the furniture parts (probably legs of chairs or tables) made from horn: they look like they have been turned on a lathe. There’s also a lot of nice pottery and jewelry, as well as good plans and models of how the various sites must have looked originally.
The ethnological department has (apart from carpets, which I’m planning to admire at the Carpet Museum tomorrow) superb samples of weaponry and traditional costumes and jewelry from all five provinces of the country. Just the costumes would be worth an hour’s visit!
The evening is spent with a nice dinner of kebabs, salad and the excellent local Berk beer at the nice open-air Aysberg (“Iceberg”) restaurant which I’m amazed I’d completely forgotten but am pleased to find back.
Sunday 2004-06-13 - Aşgabat, Turkmenistan
One of the weirdest cities in the world.
In 1948 practically the whole city of Aşgabat was flattened by a huge earthquake (9 on the Richter scale); 160,000 died. The last two buildings left standing were taken down as well — only the Lenin monument was spared and restored at the request of the people: not because they liked Lenin but because they (rightly) liked the monument.
The city was rebuilt completely on a grand new plan, with wide avenues, monumental buildings and mostly ugly monuments (with one exception). Building still continues: 127 new apartment buildings will be built, even though most people in the city cannot afford the steep prices for the (completely furnished) apartments. Not that people from outside will take up the slack: the city is “closed” and people from other areas are not allowed to move in, even though only about 600,000 live here. The townscape is a strange combination of Soviet and Turkmen and some imported styles (architects are hired mostly from Turkey and France), as well as a lot of pleasant and carefully tended greenery; but most trees are still young: they’ll need to grow a few more decades to provide the planned shade. While some inhabitants say their city is the most beautiful one in Central Asia, they don’t use the parks like people do in Iran, where people use the parks to relax after hours — to relax, people here tend to go outside the city into the mountains to the South where it’s cooler in summer.
The Independence Monument (independence from the Soviet Union is a big issue in all Central Asian former Soviet states) is incredibly ugly: a huge tower (over 100m high) with a lot of ornaments made with real gold, worth a stunning amount of money that could have been spent so much better on really useful things like roads…
Noticeable is that the ubiquitous portraits of president-for-life Turkmenbashi which adorned nearly every building just two years ago have now mostly disappeared. No one really knows why but rumor goes pressure from the United Nations played a role.
Flying camels
Our Aşgabat city tour today starts with a visit to the Sunday market, better known as the Talkoetsjka bazaar, on the outskirts of the city. Here we see a curious phenomenon — flying camels: Camels that have found a new owner are hoisted onto the owner’s truck with a crane parked here specially for the purpose — under loud protest from the scared camels, of course, but causing no obvious harm.
Delivering photographs - with a laugh and a tear
After the animal market outside the walls we head for the market enclosure of the Talkoetsjka bazaar. Aşgabat’s famous tapestry market occupies a big section of it and around here I have some portraits to deliver: photographs I took last time I was here, two years ago. Although I fear I may not find people back, it goes surprisingly well, though not always cheerfully.
The picture of the cheerful young boy soon finds his father, who we see half an hour later still sitting in the same spot, still holding the photograph. Later, I go to the outside of the enclosure where there are some small shops built into the wall, one of them of a friendly instrument maker I took a picture of. The location is easy to find - some half-finished instruments are lying on a low table to prove it — but I don’t see the friendly man on my picture. I show it to the woman sitting behind the table: the result is a loud cry of — surprise? and something else, but I can’t understand her. (I miss our guide Bava, he could have helped by translating but we soon lost him in the crowd.) She calls a younger man over, probably her son, who explains with gestures that the man died last year as a result of a car crash. When I give the picture to the woman she’s obviously both glad and sad at the same time, while the young man can barely control his tears.
Old grandma with her toothless smile is found with the help of a colleague of her: after I’d already given up and given the picture to the woman who obviously recognized her, asking her to deliver it. No need, she suddenly comes back and beckons us: grandma is found, her smile still exactly the same, her surprise even bigger than her smile. One younger woman translates: grandma wants to know what it costs - nothing of course! That earns me two bigs hugs and kisses. It’s a good antidote for the sadness of not finding the friendly instrument maker back. Even the last two pictures ultimately find their respective owners — amidst a score of jealous colleagues.
In the afternoon we tour a number of sites in the city itself, among them the beautiful “Blue Mosque” (built with Turkish financial help and m modeled after the Blue Mosque in Istanbul). Here I took pictures of a Turkmen couple; I’m hoping someone in the mosque or a caretaker will recognize them and be able to deliver the pictures. Not only is there indeed a caretaker who recognizes them — he even remembers our group sitting and chatting with them two years ago! He promises he’ll do his best to deliver the pictures to them: they come here regularly, he says. (I’m glad Bava is with me this time to translate!) Two people in Aşgabat have a little surprise waiting for them…
Alas, our planned visit to the Carpet Museum can’t take place: when we arrive it appears that opening times have changed a short while ago, now it’s closed on Sundays. I’m very disappointed — I had so looked forward to it!
Monday 2004-06-14 - Mary, Turkmenistan
Weird economy, too
The plan is to leave Aşgabat at ten this morning to go to Mary. But first the registration has to be taken care of: the government wants to know at all times where all foreigners come and go. Our guide, Bava, will take care of it, and is at the office at 7:30 am but it’s so busy, it’s 11 when he finally arrives back at the hotel.
On the way to Mary he tells a little more about how this country works. We’re riding over a very bad two-lane road with no markings: this road is the main connection from Aşgabat to Uzbekistan, all imports from there have to come along this road. In fact, all roads in the country are narrow and in bad repair except those within cities, while many millions are spent building apartment buildings with apartments practically no one can afford to live in at an average monthly income of $100: obviously not the way to kick-start an economy.
Meanwhile, farmers are not allowed to own any ground: all is owned by the government and the farmers have to rent it; a maximum of only 5 hectares is allowed. The government also dictates what can be grown (cotton or wheat) and buys the produce from the farmers who will get $200-300 extra for their families working in the fields. Near Mary however, ground is scarce, so the actual maximum a farmer can rent is only 3 hectares.
When we arrive in Mary, it’s only a few minutes before six, too late to be let into the museum (in spite of Bava’s brave efforts). Carla goes to the hotel to sleep, the rest of us go on to visit the historical site of Merv.
Tuesday 2005-01-25 - Amsterdam, the Netherlands
Back in Turkmenistan… almost
We have our third reunion today — of a sort: Marie Josee, our travel companion, managed to get (through Koning Aap) enough invitations for a special Turkmen cultural evening in Amsterdam that we can all come. There was some hassle over the invitations which didn’t all arrive, but we all confirmed through email anyway and here we all are, properly dressed up.
The reason for the happening (in the West-Indisch huis in Amsterdam, a beautiful venue for an evening like this) is the presentation of the Dutch translation of the book “Ruhnama”, written by the President of Turkmenistan, Saparmurat Niyazov, also known as “the Great Saparmyrat Türkmenbashi”. The book — officially referred to as the “Holy Ruhnama” (Book of the Soul) — was written by Mr. Niyazov during 1997-2001; in Turkmenistan everyone reads this book in school, and although some of its contents may be historically doubtful, it has definitely played a role in inspiring a sense of national pride and strengthening Turkmen culture after independence from the Soviet Union in 1991. The museum in Aşgabat has the book and a number of translations on display; no doubt the Dutch one will be added to the display now.
None of us really had any idea what to expect of this evening. We’re welcomed with drinks, and everyone sort of stands around for a while… until finally someone takes a microphone and welcomes us and especially the delegation of the Turkmen ministry of Culture, including the Minister of Culture, TV and Radio Broadcasting of Turkmenistan, Mrs. Maral Basimovna Basimova. (There had been rumors the President himself would be here, but I guess a minister is good enough.) We all troop upstairs, where after the national anthem is sung we’re shown a video about Turkmenistan. Next is a musician from Turkmenistan who sings and plays traditional music on a flute (targe tuduk), and sings some traditional songs — very beautifully.
Then it’s a (Dutch) magician’s turn; he asks for “help” from the audience, and both Vera and I are among his willing “victims”. (I’m looking him closely on his fingers, and I cannot see what he does to the EUR 50 banknote I lent him, but the promised extra EUR 50 doesn’t appear: instead I get a piece of toilet paper which he says I now know how to turn into a banknote (sure…), and my banknote with now an (illegal) mark on it. One of the Turkmen musicians also “helps” him, and finally, in a spray of fireworks, the book is conjured up.
Next on is the Minister, who tells us about the development of Turkmenistan since its independence, and proudly declares that the “holy Ruhnama” has now been translated into 26 “world languages”; this is followed by a short interview with madame Minister. Wouter van Wijk from Koning Aap Reizen comes up next to present a slide show about traveling in Turkmenistan. This elicits a curious response from the Minister: one of the slides shows a traditional way of baking bread in the desert (I witnessed a demonstration of that myself in 2002, although it was made clear this was no longer daily practice); she gets up and assures us that such primitive things don’t happen any more, the country is more developed now — factually true, maybe, but it demonstrates a complete misunderstanding of what travellers to the country may be interested in (as the video demonstrated as well). It’s a common culture clash: tourists come for history, while inhabitants of a country are proud of their modern development… After this short intermezzo, the official part of the evening is over, and we all move over to yet another large room.
Here we are treated to more drinks, and an international buffet: Italian, Indonesian and… where are the Turkmen dishes? I find them tucked away in a side room off the main hall. And there is music: The little orchestra, part of the delegation from Turkmenistan, is excellent; they play a wide variety of music, from classical (arias), through traditional Turkmen music, to jazz, with singing by two young ladies and an older man; more traditional instruments appear, such as a dutar (a type of lute used in several varieties across Central Asia) and a dili tuduk which is like a piccolo version of the flute we heard before. Among the guests is a young Turkmen who studies at a Dutch conservatory; long after the evening is officially over, he is invited onto the stage by the older (and apparently quite famous) Turkmen singer, and together they sing an aria, in a kind of dialog, taking turns, both just singing for the joy of it, ignoring the audience, and with the older singer very obviously enjoying the young talent next to him. It forms a touching finish to a somewhat weird but interesting Turkmen evening — we felt a bit as if we were travelling in Turkmenistan again.
On the way out, we all get a copy of the “holy Ruhnama”; an attempt to have my copied signed by madame Minister fails (it’s a holy book by our great president, she explains, she really can’t sign that), but the young Turkmen singer is happy to oblige — not that I can read his cyrillic handwriting apart from the date.
