December 4, 2011

Ryan called at 10 to invite Elisabeth and me to lunch at his house. I told him she was out on a hike and I was expected to join Caroline and Peter at the new Turkish restaurant and asked to join us instead. Peter bailed out, nothing new, and Caroline wasn’t there when I showed up. The place was really smoky, not from cigarettes, but from the two roasting pits they kept going all the time. Many families with small children seemed to be on a Sunday outing and enjoying the food. Caroline didn’t want to eat anything, some of the dishes pictured around were not available, and the staff spoke little English. I settled for a salad, flat bread and coffee.

We encountered two other Americans on their way to the Ismaili Center and walked with them the rest of the way. They are both very young and studying Farsi under the sponsorship of different State Department grants. They commented on how proud Tajiks were to be able to speak Russian even if their Tajik was very poor. The arts and crafts exhibit was smaller than I expected, this is only the second time it has been put on, and since I didn’t intend to buy souvenirs to take home for Christmas, found little of interest. Most ex-pats I’ve met so far here paraded up and down looking for things to buy. Caroline bought three purses made of goat leather, something I had never seen.

                               
                                                 Here's a collection of several vendors' displays

Nigina and Ryan had gone to the Hyatt Hotel for refreshments and returned for the musical performance, I had indeed missed the traditional dances that had taken place on Saturday. She introduced us to Jack, an American staying here for a month to provide interrogation techniques for the local police. The musicians were from the Pamir region, a Shiia community that insists they are not Tajiks and speaks a different language. The music was slow and there were no singers, so I felt like I was about to fall asleep. To add to my annoyance, there was a woman behind me talking on her cell phone the entire time. I told Nigina I was ready to go home and Jack suggested we go to the Hyatt for pizza. I knew this hotel is the most expensive one in the city, but decided to take a look around.

The lobby is several stories high and full of floor-to-ceiling windows. Expensive wood covered the columns, archways and massive desk at the reception area. We were informed they had just finished serving brunch and dinner would start in another hour, so left. After much discussion of possible places to eat, we settled for Delhi Darbar on Rudaki. The place was empty and very cold. After ordering a Tali plate for both Nigina and I and tika chicken for Jack, it took almost an hour for the food to arrive. Everything on my plate was either cold or lukewarm, the lentils had nothing but salt for seasoning, the vegetables had been cooked in a tomato sauce (no Indian spices whatsoever) and the lamb was swimming in a brown sauce with nary a hint of curry. Even the raita turned out to be plain yogurt and not the cucumber and onion mix I’m used to. To add insult to injury, they brought a piece of fried dough, gulabjamun, without the syrup in which it’s supposed to steep to give it some flavor. I left it untouched. Nigina felt the food was “tasty”, and Jack, from Boston, said his food was good. I remained the only one skeptical one as I knew nothing we had eaten had been authentic Indian food. Another place to cross off my list. Jack commented on how cold it was at the restaurant and then gloated about having heated floors in the apartment his renting which is located in a brand-new building. I was green with envy.

It was only 6:00pm when we left the restaurant and it felt like it was 9:00. It was starting to rain/snow and I walked home the rest of the way.