All Museums in Dushanbe are closed on Mondays (no big deal), and open from 8-noon, then close for an hour so everyone can go eat lunch, and re-open from 1-5 pm. So the trick is not to start a museum at a time when you'll be rushed to finish. I managed this by being extra lazy in the morning, enjoying a hot shower, and then luxuriously strolling up and down Rudaki avenue before finally settling into a little cafe I sighted on the way from the airport.
The cafe turned out to be much higher-class than I originally realized, but paired this with the kind of rock-bottom prices I was looking for. Day 2 was off to a good start.
The restaurant was also super-air conditioned, which I was finding helpful. For some reason, it felt especially hot today....
The menu was a mystery: only Tajik, no pictures, no other customers to steal ideas from. Luckily my cyrillic is improving, and I saw several different varieties of Laghman, a hand-rolled noodle dish I'm familiar with from Bishkek. In Kyrgyzstan we had only 2 types: Lagman in soup/broth, or stirfried laghman. Here were 5 different types - how to choose?
One was called "ъозо лагман" (Bozo Laghman) - winner.
Food came out, and I had a big bottle of "voda nye gaz" as well. I sure was thirsty. The plate was a huge helping of noodles stir-friend in a thick brown sauce. It was, to be honest, much more glorious (and semi-chinese) than the Laghman I had in Bishkek - all good things.
But I just couldn't eat much of it.
I've been fortunate in most of my travels, and haven't been bitten by the "travel bug," itself a euphemism for a variety of bacterial, viral, or even parasitic "co-travelers" one can pickup through casual contact, food, water, or just bad luck. In my 1.5 months abroad, I haven't been sick one day. That's not bad, even for state-side, but it does put a fate-kick-me sign on your back if you aren't careful.
I took my time with the food, wiped my clammy forehead, and bade my time. I wasn't "ill" in the graphic sense, just... not quite right. Since the only thing on my current agenda was the museum, an enclosed, air conditioned, casual experience, I wasn't too worried about over-exerting.
Now, the best thing to do when sick is the rest, get better, and get on with your journey. Only an idiot goes Rambo on such dispassionate foes as indigestion, fever, or nausea. Especially in 100 degree heat.
I am one such idiot.
Working on the theory of "how bad could a foreign illness with no treatment possibly be," I set out for the National Museum.
For a whopping 200 somoni (US $5), I was in, and directed down a small hallway. I saw topographical maps of Tajikistan. I saw samples of minerals prominent in Tajikistan. I saw trees, flowers, swarms of insects on pins, snakes in flooded bottles, dissected frogs, stuffed birds, and some very, VERY mangy woodland creatures arranged in Disney-esque tableaus. I even saw a small (micro-hyena?) with eyes clearly designed for his bigger brother. That was creepy.Still not 100% with it, and a little disappointed (to be honest, my travel book said not to expect much from this one), I made my way back out of the hall, and toward the exit. The ticket lady - bless her - waved and clapped enough times to get my attention, and direct me toward the staircase. Apparently, I was just getting started.
When you call a place the "National" Museum, I guess there's a certain pressure to encompass all that you are proud of from your nation. Whether this means rooms full of the academic (mostly mathematical) treatises and textbooks written by your citizens, comprehensive figures on agricultural output, famous actors/composes/ballerinas... it's a mixed pot. On floor 2 the highlights were the shrine to the President and the room full of the many gifts he's been given by other countries. USCENTCOM gave him a nicely engraved box with a flag in it. The Senate of Poland awarded him a plaque. Thailand sent this amazing miniature palace. etc.
No one blocked the stairs, so I figured floor 3 was open territory, and I was in for a surprise. A full floor dedicated to WWII history and modern Tajik art!!!
WWII has a mixed nostalgia in Central Asia, usually celebrating Russians and the war as a Russian-only triumph. In the Bishkek Museum of National History, for example, the focus is on the Soviet Revolution, but mostly just the Russian contribution to it, and then WWII as the triumph of that (mostly Russian) effort.
Not so in Dushanbe.
This floor was dedicated to the Tajik contribution to WWII. It was awesome! Propaganda posters in Tajik! Posters with obviously Tajik men/women joining forces with their Russian brothers. Even one with the ghost of Ghengis Khan (arch-nemesis of all things Russian) waving his sword forward as if to say "This way my Asian prodigy!" (It actually does say something in Russian, but I have no idea what).Pictures of Tajiks in Tanks. The medals of valour won by Tajiks. etc. Really, a great exhibit, and not something you get very many places (since it's sort-of-pro-soviet, which is odd in the post-soviet period, and also sort of not-pro-russian, which would have been odd during the later soviet era).
The modern art was also cool - actually some was really great. Most was more like traditional still lifes, but with items that were unique to Tajik/Central Asia. You don't see many boring paintings with a Hooka, or a skullcap in Italian museums (or so I assume).The "actually" modern stuff was cool, but I know about as much about modern art as I do about any art - not much.
There was more, but it's just too much to recall. Hopefully the barrage of photos I illicitly snapped will help reveal more.
After the museum I still wasn't feeling great, so I went back to the hotel to cool down. I laid on my bed for just a minute... and woke up 3.5 hours later.
Apparently, even an idiot can be pushed only so far.
Refreshed by my biologically-imposed nap/heat coma, I headed out to find internet and dinner.
As I stolled down Rudaki, a young Tajik in a polo, dark shades, and a "US ARMY" baseball cap walked up next to me to say hello.
His name is 'Afar, he speaks very good English (his dad is an English teacher at one of the several universities in Dushanbe), and has worked for a few years with an American NGO in Tajikistan. We walked for awhile, then I asked if he would join me for dinner (the Georgia Cafe - highly recommended! TRY THE BLUEBERRY LEMONADE!). We talked about politics, tajik language, the imagined heritage, US policy, etc.
A couple gems:
"Is it true that in America, the african-americans are now the majority?"
"Aren't young Americans even more religious than their parents?"
And this zinger:
"Why did the value of the US dollar go up after the US caused the financial crisis?
We talked about a lot, and he asked if he could show me around more on Saturday. I'm always a little suspicious of such forward "local" beneficence. But then, what position was I in to refuse?
when you're on the lamb, your best bet is to follow any yellow bricks you stub your toe on.
Weber (on the lamb)
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