June 20, 2012

I woke up a 1:30am bathed in sweat as the A/C had been turned off again by Valerie probably before she went to bed. I got up and found my hand-held fan and tried futilely to move the air around the sofa and go back to sleep. When 5:00am rolled around, I got out of bed to make coffee and finish packing my belongings. Valerie got a call at 6:25 indicating the taxi was downstairs and she offered to go down with me. The ride to the airport was relatively long, but there was hardly any traffic and we made it there in less than twenty minutes. I still had some tenge bills I wanted to get rid off and attempted to get dollars back at the currency exchange window only to be told at both of them that they only had $100.00 bills for exchange and were out of small bills. I called them liars to their faces as obviously their day was just starting out and they just wanted to force me to spend the money buying crap at extortionary prices.

I ended up buying three chocolate bars and two packets of lozenges and still had some small change. Once I went through security and check-in, I saw a sight that gladdened my heart: a Tajik woman dressed in the traditional kurta dress in my favorite color, cobalt blue, and wearing a silk scarf around her head. I was going home for sure as she came around me and immediately her face opened into a wide smile just because I was wearing a similar outfit to hers. Final assessment on Almaty: the place is too big, too crowded, its people too cold, its culture too hidden from view, the whole place just looks too Russified for me.

 I had noticed a young African-American male in line ahead of me, but he had his IPod on and seemed unable for a talk, but when we got into the bus to get to the plane, he saw my U. S. passport and initiated a conversation. He was a Marine at the embassy in Dushanbe and was returning from a visit with friends to Astana where he had a ball. The flight was once again uneventful and I just thought as were exiting the plane to ask him if he wanted to share a taxi so as to save me the hassle of dealing with army of taxi drivers that practically wrench the bags from you as soon as you exit the building.

Orlando, that was his name, informed me he was having an embassy car pick him up and offered to give me a lift. He also told me not to bother standing in line for the immigration officer as he had a “handler” to deal with such nuisance. I handed my passport and luggage check to a local person who went through both procedures for us and escorted us out to the parking lot where the driver from the embassy was waiting for us. What a pleasure that was! Orlando and I exchanged views on our respective visits to two different cities in Kazakhstan and promised to stay in touch through our Facebook pages. Ryan’s apartment was quiet and cool and I wanted nothing but to take a nap while also remembering that he tends to come home for lunch, so I decided to wait until after his break to take a nap.

Corrie texted to confirm my arrival and plan for the evening outing. I told her I was exhausted and would not mind cancelling the plans for dinner. She was more than happy to do so as her friends had asked her to babysit so they could celebrate their anniversary. She did offer to accompany me to Tajik air to book my return ticket to Khujand. The sky was overcast, the air insalubrious and the heat unrelenting as we made our way to the bazaar area. I was told I could not travel on the airline unless I had my passport with me as a photocopy of it would not do. I needed the passport for the embassy to request my permit to travel to the Khorog region. I was simply stumped and couldn’t decide what to do. Corrie suggested cancelling one or another of the camps or traveling by road for both of them, suggestions that seemed unpalatable on more than one level.

I decided to sleep on it and make up my mind the next day for I was so sleep deprived I knew I wasn’t capable of making any rational decisions then. Takhmina, from Caritas, called to arrange meeting tomorrow. Eraj called to inform me he had obtained a 4.00 out of 5.00 mark on his final exam and thought the merit went all to me. He’ll accompany me tomorrow to what I hope is my last visit to the seamstress to have the two atlas dressed made with the materials Mariam and Manzura have given me. Ryan wanted to go out to a new Chinese restaurant in town, but I reminded him that my stomach was still slightly upset and I wasn’t hungry in the least. He left with some of the kids and sat down to talk to Schanozza, their mother, with whom I had never had a chance to talk to alone. She showed me her wedding album confessing she didn’t know what she was doing at the time and was just following her mother’s advice. Her relationship with her mother-in-law is a difficult one still.

I cleaned up the kitchen, took a long bath, gathered all my fabric and trims to be ready in the morning, and then finally retired to bed to continue reading “The Tiger’s Wife”.