July 1, 2012

I had ground all the Italian roast coffee beans I had purchased in anticipation for the camp and was disappointed to see how light it was and how little body it had compared to the French roast I normally get. The guys got up much later than I did and confirmed we’d be going to Varzob for lunch to join the crowds from Dushanbe avoiding the heat. I did a load of laundry and tried to spread the pieces around the kitchen as the clothes rack in the bathroom was packed with Ryan’s clothes and it got no air whatsoever. I had a bit of leftover muesli for breakfast and more coffee once Ryan made his usual pot of weak coffee.

Although Ryan had mentioned the night before that his landlord’s vehicles were at his disposal now that he was in Moscow, we ended up taking a taxi for 20.00 somoni per person round trip. The taxi driver took us to what must have been an acquaintance of his restaurant and we secured a tapchon pretty close to the river and where the raging waters barely allowed us to talk. I saw most women dressed in their traditional dresses while the men and the children wore swimsuits or at least t-shirts and shorts. Many families had brought many bags with foodstuff to consume and many of them were already asleep due to the heat. I passed up on the soup and only had a piece of shish kebabs, salad and fruit. Fernando made himself comfortable and also took a nap while Ryan and I made small talk. The driver came back in two hours and we quickly left as there didn’t seem to be much to be done unless you went swimming at the pool as the river was out of bounds.

I still needed to go back to the seamstress for my remaining dresses, but all I wanted to do was take a nap, something I had told Ryan and Fernando I couldn’t do in a public place. Ryan turned on the TV the minute we got in and Fernando asked about the possibility of visiting the Antiquities Museum. I offered to show him where it was on my way to the seamstress only to find out it was only open between 10:00-2:00pm on Sundays. Fernando was reluctant to go back to the apartment and said he would walk around and have a cup of coffee somewhere. I stopped at the seamstress and she had not been in at all or called Eraj to let him know my dresses would not be done. I left her a note informing her of my new returning date and left.

It was back to the apartment to seek refuge from the heat until 5:00pm rolled around and I went to the second wedding of the week with Nigora. I ironed my atlas dress and waited for bit, but no phone call came from Nigora as something was wrong with my phone and she was getting a message indicating that it was out of service. I had to hire the same driver who had taken us to Varzob, and who conveniently waits outside the maternity hospital, to take me to the restaurant where the wedding reception was about to begin. Nigora’s daughter, who had studied in the U.S. for five years, was outside waiting and took me into a relatively shabby hall with tables lined up at an angle and no stage set for the musicians as I had seen two days before. Most of the food was once again on display with the difference that once the men sat at different tables, someone brought lots of bottles of vodka and even offered one to me, which I quickly turned down.

The wedding party was late, as usual, coming back from the photo session and I could only pity the bride standing out there in the 100+ temperature in a gown and veil stoically being photograph for posterity. Dili informed me this had been a love marriage and the groom’s parents had not approved of it at the beginning. The bride’s mother was dead and so her sister was the one directing the show as the neither the father nor the brothers of the bride are allowed to attend it supposedly because it might be too embarrassed for them to know she’ll be having sex for the time that night. The band was all right and they had brought a young woman in an elaborate costume to start dancing immediately.

At the urge of Nigora, I did dance a few times, but didn’t quite find my groove. There was group of young women dressed in Western-style dresses, one even wearing a strapless short gown leaving little to the imagination, and they danced as a group the whole time. The men surrounded the hired dancer making suggestive movements toward her and the end, even the groom came down from his perch and danced with her while his buddies hollered and clapped along. The poor bride had to keep bowing the entire three hours the reception lasted. We were served shorbot soup the way I had read about with the broth served in a tea cup and the meat and vegetables on a saucer. An entire cooked chicken has been placed on our table and then cut up into four pieces, but I passed it up and ate mostly salads and bread.

Attendees urged me to take photos of two toddlers dressed in identical suits and seated at a table in front of the newlyweds who were being showered with money and candy, but no one could explain what their role was in reference to those getting married. When the three-hour time limit came around, we were escorted out of the building as many guests filled plastic bags with the remaining food on the table. Dili had told me that kitchen is instructed to cook for 450 people and whatever is not consumed is given away. The driver came for us a little while later and dropped me off at the apartment where I found Ryan, Fernando and Dagmara outside on the tapchon finishing their dinner. After chitchatting for a little bit, I went inside to start packing and Fernando informed me that they were staying up late to watch a soccer match even though we had agreed to get up at five to be at the terminal by six.