that make me feel like I’ve come full circle with my stay here. This will be a long one, so settle in.
A friend of Doug's, Liz, visited us to see some museums. We went to Samarkand for two days. I told our guide that I'd like to find a suzani (hand embroidered fabric) with animals on it. More popular are flowers and pomegranates. When I first arrived in Uzbekistan I went to an art bazaar and met a vendor who spoke good English. He sold suzanis and was telling me all about the symbolism of the different animals. If I remember correctly, the snake symbolized fertility and the scorpian kept you safe from the Evil Eye. I didn't buy anything from him, though I wanted to. I was new to Uzbekistan and didn't know what else I'd see to buy, I didn't know what a fair price was, etc. I never forgot that man and all his enthusiasm. I also never saw animals on suzanis again.
In our wanderings, I found a suzank with animals around the edges and was able to dicker a fair price with the woman who was selling it. I was so happy. Later that day a man called us into his shop to show us his suzanis. I declined saying I had what I wanted and I'd wait ourside and admire the madrasah. After a few minutes our guide came out and told me that I may want to come in and listen because the man was talkng about animals and their symbolism - he remembered that that interested me. Reluctantly (because I was not in the mood for a sales pitch) I went inside. The more I listened, I realized that this was the man I had met over a year and a half ago in Tashkent.
I asked him if he had been in Tashkent. He answered yes and told me that he remembered meeting me at the TWIG bazaar (he remembered the name of the bazaar where we met). I didn't have the heart to tell him I had bought someone else's animal suzani.
After a while, he pulled out a bedspread sized suzani stitched with flowers and vines. It was gorgeous. My eyes and face must have said it all because Doug was digging in the backpack counting our money preparing to dicker with him. Back and forth they went for fifteen or so minutes. Doug bought it and I was so touched by it all, I cried. The man saw my tears and came over and hugged me (rare for an Uzbek man to a strange woman). He gave us all a gift before we left.
July 22nd I climbed Big Chimgon, one of the (or the highest point in the area). On almost every hike Boris, our hike guide, points out Big Chimgon. It hovers over at us from a distance looking ominous. I have wanted to climb it and was glad to get the chance before we left Uzbekistan. I was also nervous. I was so nervous that I spent most of Friday and Saturday before the hike worrying and psyching myself out of it. (Alas, I was never destined for the Olympics.) The above picture was taken about two thirds of the way up to the summit of Big Chimgon.
I’ve heard some stories about hiking Big Chimgon. One group of hikers was still ascending as the day was growing short. They voiced their concerns to Boris and suggested they turn around to be sure that they didn’t get caught on the mountain after dark. Boris refused, as the story goes and on they went. And they got caught descending after dark. Most people climb Big Chimgon in two days
enjoying a night out in the mountains.
We arrived at the starting point and I posed with the rest of the hikers (with my flashlight in my backpack) for a ‘before’ picture. We started with a gentle climb. Within five minutes I was light-headed. This rarely happens to me; very few times while pushing myself on the elliptical, but never while hiking. I wondered if this was my red flag telling me to turn back to the van (while it was still there) and skip the hike, but no way was I going to sit in a van all day with the driver smoking away, so on I plodded. The light-headed feeling hit me a few more times and I dismissed it. Eventually
it quit. It was replaced with my heart pounding - much harder than on normal hikes, I was certain. Usually my heart pounds only when steeply ascending for a while, but we were still in the foothills of Big Chimgon. I took comfort in the fact that Boris told us that, at a certain point, we could split up. Group One could go on to the summit; group two could stay behind and wait. That’s what I’d to. No
problem. I’d still be climbing Big Chimgon, just not to the top.
Often (too often for my sanity) I have a song running relentlessly through my head. I found it amusing that, as I climbed Big Chimgon, Bruce Springsteen’s “One Step Up and Two Steps Back”was in my head. Probably inspired by the loose rock we were trying to progress over. When I
reached the summit, I was further amused that this song was immediately
replaced with “Pomp and Circumstance”.
One thing that helped the climb was the variety of terrain we hiked on. It began bushy with a small trail carved for us to follow. When we left the foothills and began the steeper ascent, it changed from a dusty path, to the dreaded loose shale-like rock, then to small pebbly stones to rich, dark soil surrounded by some of the lushest greenery I’ve seen in these mountains. I kept thinking I should be
taking pictures, but I was too tired to stop and take out my camera and didn’t want to fall behind as I was already toward the end. At times we had to literally climb over large boulders and rocks. At one point, we were climbing like this and came to a five or so inch shelf (think the balance beam in the Olympics) on which we had to walk avoiding a drop to get to the other side. Maxim (Boris's asistant) stood on something underneath us and held out feet in place. I noticed that we rested more often on this hike which was fine with me. One of our rests was in the shelter of a rock overhang - not quite a cave, but almost. We noticed a plaque hanging outside it with names and writing in Uzbek. We guessed that it was names of those who forged this trail. Nope. It was the names of those who died attempting to climb Big Chimgon. Not very encouraging for Laura.
This hike was different in so many ways. I drank more, ate less and ate later. Usually I’m into my sandwich by 10AM. I didn’t eat until around 2:00. I also sat down every time we took a break. I usually don’t do that until toward the end of the hike.
I talked with Tom who works with General Motors here in Tashkent. I think we kind of supported each other. We were tired, we were working hard and we were determined to make it. At one point, during a rest, I was sitting on a rock and his hand came into view, “Come on. Let’s go.” He said. And up we went. That hand felt so good, like an energy transfer. A little peer pressure is a good
thing sometimes.
At one point I was a little concerned about the dark floaties before my eyes. One of them was particularly dark and not floating around very fast. And I couldn’t see through it like I could all the others. Turns out a ladybug was strolling across my sunglasses.
Naturally, we whined a little on the way up. Not the, “Are we there yet?” whining. We were more creative. “How high do you think we are?” “I don’t know, but those clouds sure look like they’re hanging low.” Some were finding it more difficult to breathe. We wound up ascending over a mile.
It took us five hours to make the ascent. It was at this point that Boris told us (as I lay flat on my back) that group two could stay here while group one made one last 20 minute climb to a higher point. Twenty minute climb? That was the splitting of the groups he earlier referred to? I stayed right where I was. Rocks never felt as comfortable as after a long, steep ascent. A few of the men stayed
behind “to protect the women.”
As we relaxed at the top enjoying the view, dark storm clouds were moving in. After a while, as much as it pained me (literally) I suggested that we not rest too long so we could beat the storm. Trying to maneuver that 5 inch ledge in the rain would be quite dangerous. About an hour into our descent we heard the thunder. Grant, a friend from the embassy, was in the lead. “Go faster, Grant!” I hollered. We heard thunder a few more times, but never got caught in the rain and made it down well before sunset. Boris was very happy. We did have a good group. As I said, on the ascent, I was in the rear of the group. We could usually see the people ahead of us, though, and I don’t think they ever had to wait more than 15 or so minutes for us. On the descent, I was in the front of the group. We
also didn’t have to wait much for those in the rear. We have had to wait up to 45 minutes for slower hikers. No fun.
Now when I hike and Boris points out ominous Big Chimgon, I can look at it and say, "I've stood there!" or "I've collapsed there!"
I'll leave you with a picture of me and Boris:
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