It’s
102 degrees out — too hot to do anything, so I stay inside and muse on
conditions in Uzbekistan, a poor country, where people profess to be very happy.
One guide, in a rare moment of candidness, said, “They are always watching.” I thought, “Big brother.” The travel industry, like the tobacco, cotton, banking, oil,
and transportation industries are firmly under the government's control. I snapped a
picture of the Bukhara airport terminal and an officer came rushing over with
his hands crossed and shaking his head, “No
picture.” I showed him the picture and deleted it. Taking pictures of
government buildings or transportation facilities is prohibited. It’s not even possible
to park near one of those spanking new government buildings. I asked if I could
at least see the grandfather’s (President Karimov’s) home. My guide said, “No. Security is too tight. It has to be that
way, because the grandfather has a lot of enemies.” “Who are his enemies?” “The
terrorists along the Afghan border and the opposition exiled somewhere in
Europe.” But everyone I meet adores the grandfather. “We are a peaceful stable country because of him,” he says, which I've been hearing ad
nausea. An eerie normality pervades the country like the calm before the
storm: people going about their business, farm workers schlepping bundles of
hay in donkey drawn carts, women in ankle length colorful synthetic dresses peddling fruits
and vegetables, men lingering in cafes and parks, families casually strolling
through the plaza at night, and folks everywhere saying hello. But something is
lacking. Where’s the distant lightening and thunder, I wonder. Where are the street
artists, the performers, the graffiti, the protest signs, the electioneering
billboards, the newsstands, the McDonalds, and the currency exchange kiosks? Yes, why do people think it
normal for the official currency rate to be 33% above the street rate?
Last year I trekked into the Moroccan Sahara desert on a very trusty camel named Aszu. In the evening, my guide, Jusef, a sixth grade educated Berber nomad, surprisingly fluent in six languages, fixed me a tantalizing chicken tangine. All that it lacked was a glass of wine, unfortunately verboten for Muslims just days before Ramadan. At night we slept under the incredible desert night skies. Never before had I seen so many stars, stretching from one horizon to the other – the stars so bright and numerous, it was difficult to make out the constellations. That was Morocco, a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, smells, and experiences. From Morocco I traveled on through much of Europe, Russia, Mongolia, China, and finally concluding my trip in Japan. This year's trip will take me to Romania, Ukraine, Georgia, Central Asia, India, Nepal, Southwest China, and Indochina. At times I hope to report back on my experiences and observations, perhaps posting a few pictures and videos that may be of interest. I've posted below a few pictures and videos from some past trips. For my blog on my travels through East Europe check out my blog at http://tallinntovarna.blogspot.com.
I’ve been asking myself lately, is there a theme to all this? Maybe not, but one thing I can say that piques my interest, is the dangerous nexus between religion and politics that engulfs the world today. In Morocco, where the King is both the head of Mosque and State, a Muslim, during Ramadan, can end up in jail for doing nothing more than drinking a glass of water under the scorching daytime heat – his crime, the thirsty Muslim broke the fast. Imams in Morocco claim that such an abhorrent act defies the teachings of God, infringes on the religious liberties of practicing Muslims, and is deserving of serious sanction. Of course, such a violation of an individual’s personal freedom could never happen in America. Or could it? As I write this, the U.S. Catholic Bishops are ferociously attacking President Obama’s Affordable Care Act for requiring institutions to provide birth control under their insurance policies. Like the Imams, the Bishops consider it not just an affront, but an existential threat, to their religious liberties. A poor woman, without the means to support a family, let alone a brutally raped woman, should not expect any sympathy from these Catholic institutions, as they, like their Muslim brothers, are scripturally bound to impose their beliefs on others. Does it matter that no one is telling Muslims that they cannot fast or Catholics that they cannot abstain from sex?
Now that I think of it, I’d like to dedicate this blog to Americans United, a terrific nonpartisan educational organization dedicated to preserving the principle of church-state separation as the only way to ensure religious freedom. Before I move on though, I’d like to share with you this political satire piece I wrote a few months ago when Senator Rick Santorum had a chance of being the Republican nominee. It pretty much sums up my take on what a large segment of the American population would like to see should their wildest dreams come true. Finally, I begin this blog with three postings from last year’s trip just to give you an idea of who I am and what you may or may not come to expect as I embark on this year's trip. If you have something nice to say, I'd love to hear from you.
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