Asia Central

Back in Action

2011-08-15T06:30:00.001-07:00

I am very pleased to finally be able to post on Asia Central. I've been in Central Asia for three weeks by now and have had considerable difficulties in getting my blogs out. A Turkmen student showed me how to bypass the filters to get into FaceBook and it seems to help with Blogspot and Wordpress. I'll continue to post from The Coruscating Camera to avoid double posting. Please check there for newer posts.

2011-08-03T01:35:00.000-07:00

Pictures do not want to post. I'll try another work around as I don't think many viewers are interested in reading a long public letter from a photographer. It's all about the pictures.

Tashkent 2011

2011-08-03T01:01:00.000-07:00

I ended my last post of over a year ago with the words, "more later." Well, this is seriously later and the internet, at least the version of it in the Dedeman Hotel in Tashkent, is questionable on several levels. The best way to see if it is allowing me to post is to simply hit "publish." So, if you see this brief post, an attempt to upload photographs will soon follow.

Nukus--Last Day in Uzbekistan 2010

2010-06-17T00:51:00.000-07:00

My last day in Uzbekistan was in the far west of the country. The KyrgyzUzbek conflict was on the far eastern Uzbekistan/Kyrgyzstan border. Later, I felt I was letting ZUMA, my press agency, down by not photographing the conflict. I'm not much of a war photographer. Bosnia and Kosovo in the late 1990s challenged my tolerance for photographing suffering. I'm an "ordinary life" kind of photographer. For instance, in Nukus, I was fascinated by the metal snakes in a neighborhood playground. I like a fake snake.
As for signs of danger, be it snake or man, a missing manhole cover makes me nervous enough.
I am interested in survival in the aftermath of difficult circumstances. That's why I'm attracted to the former Soviet Union (FSU). I photograph how people are getting along more than how people are not getting along. For example, I'm happy for this high-end street musician who is all amped-up and ready for karaoke on an empty Nukus street.
I was warned not to eat ice cream in Nukus. I did want to support his ice cream seller, though.
Now, I am in southern France near where many people died a couple of days ago in flash flooding. Again, I am not being a good ZUMA Press member. I'm in Aix-en-Provence teaching photography for 6 weeks.
I think this Asia Central blog will again switch back to The Coruscating Camera on Wordpress. I don't like the way Blogger/Blogspot functions. I recently posted France pictures at The Coruscating Camera and will continue to look back at recent FSU work there. So please check it out and subscribe.

Silence and Symbiosis

2010-06-08T23:08:00.000-07:00

The first thing that struck me about Khiva was the absence. It's like a great civilization just moved out of town. The next impression was of the presence. The spirit of the place, as well as the fact of its survival over time, is all encompassing. The street vendors don't shout out at you. The children whisper hellos. There is no loud music playing. I've seen a few internationals, but there seems to be more tour buses than tourists. It is hot, so maybe everybody is ensconced in their air conditioned hotels. The picture below is basically the view from our hotel window.
This picture is actually taken from the street. Our hotel is closer to the minaret with a view onto the plaza in front of it. I look down at a row of merchants tables offering carpets, hairy hats and orange soda. This is an incredible place to be. We are inside an old walled city.

These are photos I took yesterday. Our day started at 4:30 AM with a rush to the airport in Tashkent. During our hour and a half flight to Urgench we sat on the airplane watching half the plane (not our half) get served breakfast. We got Fanta and a piece of bread. We think that half the plane was on a package tour that included food.
We finally got a delicious lunch at the sanatorium of the University in Urgench.

I got a great tour of the facilities of the sanatorium. Students can calm down from the stress of college life by accessing several therapeutic devices including the above headache reliever.

Oh, I'm getting notices about how my connection is intermittent. Bad blogability has been a problem throughout the whole trip. I'll simply throw on a couple of more pictures from yesterday and hope I can upload this post.

More later...

The Siberia of the Mind

2010-05-31T02:19:00.000-07:00

Siberia has a presence in the imaginations of people all over the world. This is a picture from the City Museum of Irkutsk where they have clear plexi people floating in various rooms. Plexi people are a great addition to my imaginings of Siberia. In this museum, the guide opened old wooden drawers and carefully unfolded lacy cotton undergarments for me. My private collection of 18th and 19th century underwear photographs is expanding. I think Tanya Marcuse has the ancient underwear art photography market covered. I'll just have to be satisfied with my own silky portfolio. No, I'm not going to show them. Here's the Irkutsk Chinese Market just to get you back to the 21st century.

More to come.

Last Days in Siberia

2010-05-27T22:32:00.000-07:00

Our arrival in Irkutsk over a week ago was a homecoming of the most delightful kind. People seemed really happy to see us, our old apartment was waiting for us, and we even found our old toilet seat. On the down side, the toilet seat had seen better days, and better bottoms. The apartment had been depleted of Vivian's kitchen utensils from 2 years ago and the beautiful banks of the Angara were blighted with a new, and expanding, parking lot (seen above). Adding insult to insult, I was accosted by a guard when I entered the parking lot with my camera. While repeating, "I love you", he made me erase any of the pictures that showed the destruction of the formerly beautiful coast line. Here are a few that he missed.
This one was too dark to show all the garbage that was strewn around.
The pictures that looked directly out onto the river were less offensive to the guard. Therefore, he let me keep this one. He missed the one below which shows the offensive bulldozers.
I could go on, but I'll cut right to Lake Baikal, the source of the Angara. Below is Alexey washing something in the lake. If you want to see more pictures from Angarsk and Archan, check out The Coruscating Camera. I've mostly been blogging from Wordpress, but as of the first Wednesday in June we'll be in Uzbekistan where Wordpress is banned. All my blogging will then be from Asia Central.

Cental Asia Return

2010-04-28T05:34:00.000-07:00

Vivian and I are on the verge of our spring 2010 trip to Central Asia. We leave in two and a half weeks. We don't have any visas, yet, but we've got tickets. The problem is that the airline won't let you on the plane unless you have a visa for where you are landing. No problem, maybe.

The above picture of a classroom in the Tajikistan Pamirs is from 2009. What kind of pictures will I be looking for on this trip? Because Vivian spends time almost every day teaching teachers, I'll continue to picture education. It is consistently amazing to see the intelligence and grace of the teachers and students in Central Asia. They are teaching and learning in the midst of often broke down conditions.

Ultimately, my photography is about whatever happens to be in front of me. I know it is not a very sophisticated approach to documenting the world. It is really a way of documenting my own state of well being. Years of listening to jazz is a possible inspiration for this approach. In jazz, the song, or head, is the starting point for the musician to work around. S/He usually plays the tune once through and then lets inspiration flow. For me, the city or town offers the basic structure for possible visual riffs or explorations.

I've been a meditator since my early 20s. My kind of photography relates to the experience of sitting. I start with whatever watchfulness I can muster. It is similar to walking out onto the street, or into a space. While sitting, I observe whatever is going on in my mind and body. It's just like being a photo eye on the world. I never know what is about to envelope me. I only know what I am seeing at the moment. Just like meditation, there are times when I come back to the present moment and realize I've just spent a nonspecific stretch of time lost in thought, or, as in photography, engrossed in a fleeting situation in the world. It's all OK.

Well, maybe it isn't. Meditating is not a results oriented experience. I let go of achieving something with sitting practice awhile ago. I realize that, at the very least, meditating keeps me out of trouble for the time I am just sitting.

Photography is results oriented. Our attic is filled with my pictures. On this trip I want to let go of the impulse to collect a little pile of picture treasures. I'll let my camera simply note the world as it passes by. The pictures can be the residue of my experience of the world. Dodrup Chen Rimpoche, a Tibetan teacher who has been very important to me, once said, "the archer doesn't have to proclaim that he has hit the target. Everyone can see that he has hit the target."

Pass me another arrow, please.

Gymnasium floor, Russia, 2009

Asia--The Next Generation

2009-12-19T07:51:00.000-08:00

My first trip to Asia was in 1973/74 when I was 24 years old. The second trip was for our (Vivian and my) honeymoon in 1978/79. I've been posting some pictures from those early travels over the past few months.
Now, also at age 24, (he just turned 25 last week) our son, Caleb, has gone on his first extended journey through India, Bangladesh, Thailand, Burma and more. He's been blogging about it with more insight that I had at 24. Here's Caleb and his iPod in India photographed by the talented Michele Leaman who is traveling with him.
Check out Caleb and Michele's blog at http://whatmovesyou.wordpress.com/

Light and Dust

2009-11-15T11:37:00.001-08:00

afghanmarketlight
Originally uploaded by culturalvisions

This picture of light filtering through an underground market in Afghanistan in 1979 began my obsession with shafts of light. My romance with light and dust has guided me on many trips across Asia.

Now, Vivian and I are planning for Central Asia 2010. I'm sorting through folders of images from 2008-9 to see what I missed photographing on earlier trips. I've missed a lot.

Photo Studio in Afghanistan

2009-10-26T14:48:00.001-07:00

Afghan Photographer
Originally uploaded by culturalvisions

I've seen street side photo studios, like this one in Herat, all over the world. The shutter is a makeshift lens cap, the negative is made of paper, inside the camera box are trays with chemistry for processing, the negative is re-photographed to make a positive and the results are washed in the bucket on the ground. The client gets a beautiful 3X5 inch contact print after a few minutes wait.

Happy Days in Herat

2009-10-25T12:50:00.001-07:00

Afghan Musician
Originally uploaded by culturalvisions

Kabul in the 70s was known as the Paris of Central Asia according to the NYT. For me Herat was the Northampton of Central Asia- good tea stalls (chai khannas), good bakeries (not as good as Hungry Ghost) and absolutely great music coming from every chai khanna.

Afghanistan had it all if you were a fan of life as it was lived in "Old Testament" times. Come to think of it, Northampton of the 70s had a lot more "Old Testament" feel about it. Let me clarify that Herat of the 70s was as interesting as Northampton of today. Although Afghanistan had lower prices, better shopping, cheaper hotels and fewer flush toilets. Oh, right, the toilets. I guess I prefer Northampton.

Research Group Triangle

2009-10-22T20:27:00.001-07:00

Jura's Place, Herat, originally uploaded by culturalvisions.

This was our hang-out in Herat in 1973. Jura had the best tea and the best music. We called ourselves Research Group Triangle and we sat in this small, smokey room for hours talking about our expedition overland. There were four of us. That's an appropriate configuration for a Group Triangle of the early 70s. We traveled for a year. Sometimes together, sometimes alone, and always connected --even pre-internet. I had 100 rolls of film and stingily took just a few photos in Afghanistan. This remains one of my favorites, but it is because of the memories rather than the quality of the picture.

Northern Afghanistan, December 1978

2009-10-22T20:04:00.001-07:00

Northern Afghanistan
Originally uploaded by culturalvisions

"Money is for whomans, not for things." That's what the Chief of Afghan Police kept repeating as he interrogated us about not paying for our hotel room. Unfortunately, it was the bulk of his English literacy. We paid for the hotel a second time to avoid jail time.

Also, Vivian complained about my previous post so I pledge to avoid potty stories in the future. For instance, I'm not going to tell of the night the Afghan authorities locked all the internationals passing through their village in a single room for safe keeping. There were 6 or 8 of us who were told that we might be killed if we were mistaken for Russians by the locals.

Honeymoon in Afghanistan

2009-10-21T19:13:00.001-07:00

afghantruckride
Originally uploaded by culturalvisions

That's right, Vivian and I spent a month of our year long honeymoon in 1978-1979 in Afghanistan. There are stories to tell of our adventure, but I'll start with pictures. This one is from a week long truck ride from Herat to Mazar-i-Sharif. That's a mostly roadless ride through desert and dust. We would stop every few hours to get out and pee. The Afghan women wouldn't leave the truck. Vivian would barge her way through and squat in the sand with the men. I pissed standing up. I attracted a crowd. They were very impressed with my fly-- very modern and very western. Then one day I pissed toward Mecca and everybody yelled at me.

This recollection was initiated by a NYTs article on Afghanistan's Golden Age.

Central Asia Lite

2009-08-25T19:17:00.000-07:00

Photographed while driving through a waterfall on the way out of the Pamirs. This is the perfect analogy for how I see my most recent project.
I've got to get back to Central Asia. I feel like I missed so much that was right before my eyes. I don't think I've got enough visual evidence about what life in the Countries in Between is really like.

Here are a few pictures that I've been thinking about. I haven't printed anything yet.

Vivian in her suite. Namangan, Uzbekistan.

Young worker at the silk factory, Ferghana Valley, Uzbekistan.

Tajikistan Landscape.

Interior Landscape, Khujand, Tajikistan

Butcher Shop, Khujand, Tajikistan

Hotel of suspect activities, Tajikistan

Conference Attendee, Kazan, Tartarstan, Russia

Khorog-- The capital of the Tajik Pamirs.

2009-08-04T09:55:00.000-07:00

The Khorog Airport ticket office.
The next three pictures were made along a ridge parallel to the main road in Khorog.

This is the staircase in the Khorog State University where my wife, Vivian, was teaching.

Bags in the bazaar.

The entrance to the Khorog Hospital.

The Wall

2009-07-13T06:25:00.000-07:00

I've been getting email from friends in Uzbekistan and I am reminded that most of them don't have access to The Coruscating Camera. Here's a picture from the Pamirs to view while I get something together for my Asia Central readers.

To Russia and Back

2009-06-29T16:33:00.000-07:00

I've officially returned from Russia as of late last night. All of my most recent Russia posts are on The Coruscating Camera if you haven't been keeping up.
That's the site that was banned in Uzbekistan, but I'm in Uzbekistan no more. Go to my Wordpress site for more pictures from the trip.
Here's one from Elista in the Republic of Kalmykia.
I don't think I'll be posting much more on Asia Central. Blogspot simply is not as easy to use as Wordpress. I have not felt comfortable with the Blogger software.

Tashkent Old City

2009-06-15T01:56:00.000-07:00

It took us several days to find the old city of Tashkent. We discovered the old market, but the narrow walled streets of Chorsu were elusive. There were some enticing alleys with children playing, but they seemed inadequate for the "old" quarter of a 2200+ year old city of 3-5,000,000 people. We had read about the earthquake that killed as many as 500,000 inhabitants in 1966. The book said that many old neighborhoods survived because they had few windows or doors, just mud and straw flexible walled dwellings.
A couple of days ago we were walking along what looked like a construction site and I noticed a door cut into the green metal fence. Instead of a construction project, behind the green wall was the walled city of Tashkent. Alleys lined with clay led off in every direction.
There were a few larger holes in the green wall to accommodate driving a car into the neighborhood.
Some entered through simple, handle-less closed doors.The green wall began at a bakery that had a marvelous, if understated, bread display along the road.The wall continued to a mosque at the other end of the neighborhood.
I don't know the "why" of the green metal jacket protecting the earthen walkways of this ancient part of town. Maybe the green wall looks better to the outside neighbors than what preceded it. Or maybe the old district chose to erect it to keep people like me from sticking my head in and bothering them.

The Tashkent Challenge

2009-06-14T23:47:00.000-07:00

Tashkent is one helluva tough town. I thought it was going to be my kind of photography scene-- filled with ugly beauty. Early indications seemed promising when Vivian and I walked by this cafe near our hotel.
"Dadu" is what Tobey and Caleb call me. Vivian took this as I proudly stood out front.

Before I start complaining, here's a list of things I like about Tashkent:
1. The hotel, with live harp music every morning at a good buffet breakfast, plus free in-room wireless.
2. The American Embassy and their outstanding operatives. I really think these guys are altruistically contributing to Uzbekistan's overall well-being.
3. Food that, even when it was bad, was good enough to eat. This includes coffee that wasn't instant and J Smoker's local draft dark beer, which was real good.
4. Taxi anywhere in the city for less that $3. Almost any vehicle is a taxi. You just stick your hand out wherever you are. Someone will stop within about a half dozen cars. You do a quick negotiation and if they aren't interested, there is another car that has moved in behind the first.

The city seems to not be user friendly. Unfortunately, it was destroyed in 1966 by an earthquake. The Soviet Union rebuilt it with the participation of every Soviet state. This meant that a potpourri of oversized structures, built by a variety of people, created a city of big, bulbous, (mostly) empty interiors and large grass, or cement, filled spaces in between. It's an unenviable experience to be staggering around in 100 degree heat between these buildings. Each guarded proletarian fortress seems to be spaced about a half mile apart. It's kind of like the architecture of UMass except you can't walk anywhere, there is no place to go on foot. The sidewalks are fenced-in so you can barely even get across the street. The roads include around 5 traffic lanes in each direction, plus trolleys. Crossing the street requires the tenacity of a demolition derby driver (without a car).

Nobody in town knows anything about where they are or where you may want to be going. They will give you directions unhesitatingly even though they have no idea what you are asking about. We have never received accurate directions from a person on the street, unless he was driving you there. In that case, it was his gas that he was wasting so he'd figure it out.

That said, the people of Tashkent are very nice. My attempts to make portraits are usually met with one of two responses.
An undesirable smile.... or a, "talk to the hand!"
So, now you know why the 1000 words. I would rather show you a picture.

I did make one picture that I like.
In lieu of posting more good pictures (that I didn't make), here's the illustrated story of our carpet.
The carpet shop was behind a signless doorway in one of those huge buildings I was talking about. The dealer invited us in off the street, led us through a room where a few old guys were drinking tea, then through a very small room with a metal desk and a piano.

Next, through a slightly bigger cement walled chamber-- the showroom.
and finally into a couple of connected closets lined with folded carpets.
That's Nadira behind Vivian. Here she is in the showroom.The long process of looking at too many carpets is more fun than choosing tile and superior to watching paint dry. Vivian is checking the color of this carpet with her toenail polish.We finally pick the best combination of the usual factors and end up with this Bukhara design on an Afghan made beauty.
Vivian's name is up in the corner because we are doing the paperwork to get it out of the country. That's a post for another time.

Silk and Clay

2009-06-12T01:10:00.000-07:00

We made several amazing stops on our way out of Ferghana and back to Tashkent. Like our previous visit to the 8th century paper mill in Samarkand, these visits were about living history and artisan survival in the 21st century. There is a down side to practicing ancient techniques. They are labor intensive and not financially rewarding. Basically, I wasn't happy to see people who have worked boiling silk worms to death for the past 30 years. This is not a pro silk worm manifesto, I just felt bad for the crafts people who did such grueling work daily. I was also not pleased to see very young young people apprenticing in these trades. I won't go into a "how to" on silk production. I think Stan Sherer and Marjorie Senechal have already written a book or two about it.

These ladies are boiling the silk worms and extracting the silk from the cocoons.
From what I understood, this is the only "traditionally produced" silk factory in Central Asia.
This man is making (or doing) ikat, a kind of tying and dyeing of the silk.
Here's a young person weaving the ikat threads.
Every release of the shutter is an affirmation-- yes, yes, yes (Henri Cartier-Bresson paraphrase). Each camera exposure is an acknowledgement of the present moment. It seems to be cheating to embrace the present moment for the extended period of a print or a blog. And to have each shutter release lead to the next.

Here's a market picture from the Tashkent Old City while I go to meet the US Ambassador to Uzbekistan.

Ambassador Richard Norland is a personable guy who asked me to encourage you to come and visit. I don't think he'll put you up at the Dedeman Hotel, but you can easily ride the elevator.
Now for ceramic arts. This series is for Chuck and Patty. I know I don't have to say much about clay production, so here's some studio pictures from Uzbekistan's greatest living potter.

As I was looking at the beautiful patterns on the plates, I was reminded of my favorite Uzbek popular art form-- bread making. OK, so I haven't had much to eat for the past 10 hours. I do have a squeeze bottle of mayonez (Uzbek spelling) resting on the hotel air conditioner. I think I'll take it with me to market to get a bread snack.

Students and Teachers

2009-06-11T09:06:00.000-07:00

A fabulous four hour drive in one of the Embassy's Chevy Suburbans brought us from Tashkent to Namangan. I may get around to posting pictures from the drive through the mountains, but they were mostly shot out the window. I haven't looked to see if they are interesting. In Tajikistan we were often in an armored Toyota Highlander and the windows didn't roll down. The Suburban was an improvement even though it was the biggest non-truck on the road. We only stopped for herds of livestock, loaves of bread and baskets of apricots.

We bought one or two of these baskets of apricots from the girl below. After she sold them to us she ran back into the orchard and filled them up again.

I was thinking about the first 150 years of photography and how peasants and farmers were a major theme right from the beginning. In the 1860s Lady Hawarden and Julia Margaret Cameron would have their friends and family dress up in costumes to recreate "the olden days" of country life for their own amusement. The Allen Sisters made a living setting up picturesque "genre" scenes of Deerfield farmers and children in the 1890s. They sold prints to city folk. Photographers continue to do the same for stock photo agencies. Now, I'll nip the lecture on photography in the bud (to use a farming analogy), and say enough is enough. (more to come)

We had this wierdo "luxe" suite in the hotel in Namangan.

Yes, that's Vivian on the left entering our suite. This is the third floor staircase. I took pictures inside our rooms, too, but this gives you the idea.
Anyway, we had a balcony with a breathtaking view of cotton fields spreading out like we were in California or something. At about 5:30 Vivian wakes me up to get me to take pictures of the farmers in the fields illuminated by this perfect sweeping dawn light. I took one look at a potential cover shot for a John Deere Annual Report (except there was no machinery) and went back to bed. She took the pictures herself. Again, for me, "enough is enough." These kinds of pictures are tolerable when I see them in calendars on the walls of hardware stores, but they are not for me. I'm having enough trouble making pictures that are fresh and interesting, I don't need all these scenic farmers running around at dawn in their infinite fields.

Let's take a break with this picture at the Namangan restaurant where we ate three times in two days. Now that's an effort to stay healthy.

Note: Stay away from Russian beer. Tuborg seems to be decent, but it's not delicious. If you want a good beer, go to the biggest city you can find, Moscow will do, and search out an Irish Pub (yes, they are all over the world) and order a Guinness (period).

OK, now back to my elusive point about pictures, farming and the world as it is.

Before I took this picture of these girls, who are sitting in a school cafe preparing for their final exam in Uzbek, they were telling me that the cotton company delays the beginning of school until late October because young people are needed in the fields for harvesting cotton. Well, I did a little research and it appears that the state owns the cotton company and that the school children do not get paid for their labor. OK, I'm getting into the same territory that has probably led Uzbekistan to block Wordpress blogs from access in their country. I don't want to have to find yet another blogging site so I'll simply stress that this is an opportunity for foreign aid to step in and donate some damn harvesting machines. I'll also mention that the youngsters I talked to did not complain about this, ie, please don't harass them. In fact, I'm not complaining about it:-)

Now's the time to get to what the blog is about--students and teachers.
I love these guys. They're smart and good looking, and they know how to dress.
Look at this great posture.
These boys are all out of uniform because they took their ties off.All these girls had to do was stand there. They nailed it.Here are some teachers flanked by security and possibly a student or two.More to come...

Samarkand Epiphanies

2009-06-10T02:17:00.000-07:00

Our journey to Samarkand was a few days ago by now, but it usually takes me a few days to download, upload and reload. Today was fantastic with a visit to a hand made silk factory in the Fergana Valley, but I've got to show you some other stuff first.

We stopped at this Tajik gas station on the way to the Uzbek border. At least you can tell how dirty your gas is.

This Samarkand bread, that has been a tradition for 1000’s of years, tastes just like a bagel. It is baked, not boiled, but is bagel-like in every other way. Maybe it is more of a bialy.
Nodera is the young woman on the left. She’s our gift from the American Embassy. She’s hip, smart, sassy, sexy and Uzbek. She takes care of us and knows how to do things “in country” that your standard diplomat may be clueless about.

With our crew of US Embassy drivers, we are usually catapulting through the landscape at about 70 miles an hour. These Uzbek guys with diplomatic plates don’t stop for anyone. They zoom through checkpoints and cops and tourists. I didn’t dare ask Abegg (name changed for security purposes) to stop so I could photograph this interesting ruin that was speeding by us in Samarkand.

Samarkand is known as the jewel of the Muslim world. It’s mosques and madrassas are truly spectacular. I didn’t feel up to the task of making pictures of the light, color and spiritual energy in these sites. It seems I could only record shadows and silhouettes.

I wasn’t the only one having trouble meeting the visual challenge. This girl was climbing where she wasn’t supposed to in an effort to get a perfect picture. I simply photographed her because only Allah is perfect.

The funkier un-renovated ruins always attract me. This mausoleum is in a row of ancient tombs that really felt like a power place. It didn’t have the glitter of the main Registan complex, but it is the prime destination for pilgrims in Samarkand.

One of my daily goals is to stick my camera into places that it shouldn’t be. The workers quickly kicked me out of this room, but I did manage to get this picture of the bust through the debris.

I was trying on this hat at a tourist store and then this local kid put it on and I threw in the towel. No camel hair hats for me.

The highlight of our trip to Samarkand, yes, even better than karaoke in the Uzbek night club, was the visit to the 8th century reconstructed paper mill on the outskirts of town. This is a mill where paper is hand made from mulberry trees. The pulp is generated by hand with the help of water power and hours of artisan expert labor.

I'm starting to explain the process after the wood has been peeled and boiled for a long time. Actually I'm not positive if they beat it to a pulp or cook it to a pulp first. I do know this is where the mulberry wood is beaten to a pulp. These pulpers are run by a water wheel outside the window.

This is the guy who orchestrates the beating to a pulp.

This is the room where the paper is lifted sheet by sheet from a slurry of pulp. It is then pressed, and then dried on the window panes. They use sea shells to polish the paper after it dries. You can see how worn out the shell is from all that polishing.

The grounds of the paper mill are totally idyllic. We sat outside and had lunch with the owner of the mill. They made us the best meal so far in Uzbekistan. I was sick the next day. Go figure.

Tajikistan Wiggle and Shake

2009-06-05T09:10:00.000-07:00

We left Tajikistan a couple of days ago and I'm happy to be in Tashkent, Uzbekistan for the more modern conveniences. I won't list the advantages of toilet bowls/seats/sinks that don't wiggle and shake, or having to wiggle and shake just about everything to get it to work. (I'm not talking personally here.) Tajikistan is a beautiful place of soulful, heartful, beautiful people (in often difficult circumstances) so the old wiggle and shake is just part of the dance of life.

Uzbekistan is only better because our hotel is fancier and we can pay high prices for food that we are more accustomed to eating. Otherwise, Uzbekistan's whole monetary system is about to collapse. Anyway, this post is about Khujand, Tajikistan. I'll get to Tashkent and Samarkand in Uzbekistan later.

First, This is currently my favorite picture from a day I spent wandering through the bazaar in Khujand.

People in their market stalls seem very open to just being with me and my camera.

The shoppers were cool and clear, too. Some days everyone is mugging for the camera, some times there is a communion.

I wandered up to the third floor of the giant bazaar building and found a sweatshop of seamstresses working in beautiful light. This is the corridor of the top floor hotel that seems to rent out rooms for sweatshops during the day and for sleeping during the night.
Here are some seamstresses in one of the rooms.

The bazaar itself was filled with wonderful still life studies.

And, of course, everyone was trying to sell me stuff.

This baker totally sold me on his wonderful bread made in a tandoor oven.
Here's an overview of the first floor of the main market.
Tomorrow we drive to Samarkand with an Embassy diplomat. She's coming along so we won't get harassed at checkpoints. You see, I don't have my passport. That's a long story that I'm not ready to get into. I have to wait 'till it plays out. You know, "Good luck, bad luck who's to say?"

Tajik Tales

2009-06-04T21:57:00.000-07:00

Flying from Dushanbe to Khujand a hole opened up in the sky and swallowed The Coruscating Camera. When I landed I couldn't post anything. Finally, I changed blog services. I think Wordpress is being blocked by Uzbekistan so I switched to Blogger.So sit back and enjoy the flight. I spent about an hour looking at this seat back. I decided it was beautiful.

Once we landed in Khujand, Tajikistan Vivian had to run off to the University where a pile of people were waiting for her to do a presentation. I wandered around outside as she was teaching, "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy."I met these guys on the overpass. Body language is an art in Tajikistan. It was like these guys were models for a 1959 fashion shoot.

Inside the girls were primping as if for a photograph by Garry Winogrand. More body language from a gone world.

Back to my search for man in the landscape, I found this guy out on the overpass.

After Khujand University we went over to the American Corner where I met this guy and his poisonous snake. He caught it in his village and he wanted to show it to his class before he ate it. He said that most people just boil it and drink the broth, but he likes the meat too. He'll be going to Iowa in a few months, so he might be a good guy to hang out with, if you are wandering in a snake pit.

That reminds me of why I like Ireland so much (no snakes). Back at the American Corner, Vivian is hanging out with a gang of young people for a Q and A. I got to explain Buddhism to them. Anything that is not monotheism is a mind bender for them. I did not illustrate limpid clearness in my explanation.

This is a picture of an army camp set up along a wall that Alexander the Great built over 2000 years ago. These guys are just sweeping the dirt and doing their laundry, but they remind me of the Chinese road crews. China outbids all the road contractors in Tajikistan because they have few labor costs. They use Chinese prisoners to whom they offer one half sentences. So these guys come and work for a year instead of sitting in prison for two years.

Back to Ancient history. Almost every museum we've gone into has some kind of stone age tableau set up. This family was in the cellar of this fancy museum in Khujand.
I have more pictures to upload, but I want to make sure this new blog works. I'll blog again soon.