Tashkent Funk--July 21-23

Although the name conjures up romantic Silk Road images, Tashkent is a new city, built from the ruins of an earthquake that thoroughly flattened the old one. It's full of parks and trees, pedestrians have some rights, but there's no one around, no vitality in the streets that I can see. I'm here for three days waiting for the Kazakh consulate to open because I need a visa. Reports say they're issued on the spot.

On Monday morning, while waiting in line in the heat, I chat with a couple from Australia. They've been traveling for a year already. I finally ask them:

"Does Tashkent depress you?"
"Yeah! We can't figure this place out. We've been bored witless."
"I tried to take the metro but was stopped twice by security demanding my documents and a bribe. I had to yell at them."
"We didn't have that problem. We couldn't find anywhere to eat."
"Where are the restaurants and cafes in this city?"
"We found somewhere that had mashed potatoes."
"I found a little store that sold potato flakes in a box. I cooked them in my room with my immersion heater."
"Yesterday we tried to find the cinema that Lonely Planet said showed English language movies at 4:30."
"Oh, I found the theater. It was padlocked with weeds around it."
"We've got CNN on the TV."
"Oh, wow. I've got BBC World."
"On Uzbek TV they showed the Godfather."
"I didn't get that one, but I watched Roman Holiday with the mute on."

It goes on like this. I'm called inside the consulate. "No visa! You must have "letter of invitation!"
"Your consulate in Washington says U.S. citizens don't need them anymore."
"In this consulate that doesn't matter."

I settle for a transit visa. They tell me to come back at 5pm. I've already checked out of my room (I must add that the hotel people were exceptionally nice). I wander Tashkent in the heat until 5 and return to the consulate. They tell me: "Come back tomorrow at 11!"