Dushanbe Day 4 - Undercover B-Day

28 years ago the first piece of government paperwork was filled out for Richard Ryan Weber, SSN###-##-####. Time has passed, and I'm still filling out forms, and verifying my identity. A lot has changed for me, but for most of the world July 12 remains a rather unremarkable occasion. A few jazz fans might note is also happens to be the birthday of soul jazz organ master "Big" John Patton, but the Sun doesn't exactly hold its place in the sky, nor the birds weave crowns of juniper in celebration. It's just another day.

And while I'm not a man opposed to a party, having been several times surprised (I am only so clever) by my sneaky friends and girlfriend, I prefer to either celebrate with my close friends, or, if they are for whatever reason unavailable, put it off until a later time. I've got 364 other days of being 28 before the opportunity passes. This is especially true these last 2 summers, when I've been traveling solo in mid-July. I don't mean to be a total Oscar (grouch), but it just feels weird to be the center of attention in a group of essentially strangers.

Last summer, I was thwarted by a very nice (and insidiously snoopy) project leader at a wildlife preserve in Serbia. Officially, she had to see our passports to record the number for local registration, but I suspect there were alterior motives and curiosities at play. The ensuing party wasn't much of a surprise, but it was a very nice gesture, and since dinner that night again left me somewhat wanting, the "birthday jello" - they don't do cake - was an important additional source of sustenance.

This year, I've been with another well-meaning group of semi-strangers since May, but this time it was my turn to be sneaky. For my birthday, rather than staying in Bishkek with co-workers and new acquaintances, I went to Dushanbe. Do not think the timing is entirely coincidental.

On this particular day in question, I arose early and made my way to the rendez-vous for a tour-group organized hike that I learned about from Rob & Mari the previous afternoon. I had very little info - sum: "it's a hike, it costs $20 (a little steep), and it meets at (apparently they said "near") the agricultural college at 10 am."

After some slight hiccups involving the time (did they say 10 or 9?) and location (the Taxi drive had no idea what the Agricultural College was - after some asking around, we eventually decided this was probably the Institute of Agrobusiness, which he then drove straight past until I decoded the Cyrillic and encouraged him to slow down enough for me to exit), I was about where I wanted to be. It took a little more work (spotting a tourist in the distance, and headed away, I started tracking him to the eventual meet-up location around a corner and behind a building).

In the end, some 30 tourists - mostly from Europe, but all fluent English-speakers - piled into an odd caravan of minibuses and SUVs and headed North. There were regular allusions to waterfalls and bathing suits; apparently everyone else was better informed than I.

In my car were a trio of European Commission auditors from Earnst & Young (sorry Duff), Rob from yesterday, and a young seasoned traveler named Alex from the UK. The Auditors, all in their late 20s, were Nikolas (Walloon), Julia (Russian), and Carolina (Romanian from Moldova). Pretty interesting crew, and we ended up sticking together for the rest of the day. The Auditors were just in Dushanbe for 2 weeks, working 9-5 (and sometimes 9-9) to check out an NGO's books. They weren't regular travelers, and marveled a bit, especially at some of Alex's tales (he's been to Uzbekistan and Iran in the past year).

When we finally made it to the trail head (there was some doubt about our vehicle - one of the "nanovans" - which we had to exit once to make it up a hill), it was time for sunscreen and stretching. The hike wouldn't be too strenuous, but as with most tour-run outtings, they were treating the group with kid-gloves.

And then we hiked. It was great. Wonderful views as we followed a small river up through a valley. The nearby stream dropped the temperature a good 10 degrees (down to 90 F) just by proximity. We talked, got sweaty, tried to drink enough water. Many of the hikers worked on their tan. I covered up like a leper in an elevator. My first hike in Kyrgyzstan had already removed several layers of arm-flesh, and I wasn't taking chances.

The terrain went up and up, and the day got warmer, but I was in my prime. Cheerful, hot, and excited. I'm not sure what it is I like so much about hiking - easy answers like "nature," or "exercise" don't sound very convincing - but it is something I haver to, despite the extremely rare instances when I actually embark upon it.

We got to the waterfall a few hours later, and most of the tour stipped down to their bikinis, boxers, or speedos. They were not universally young. The water was also apparently quite cold - it is glacial runoff, afterall - which I can tell you was obvious by the screeches they made, not anything else, lest your imagination run off with you. I decided to opt out of watersports. I was ill-prepared, not even owning a bathing suit, and not feeling all *that* European.

Besides - I came to Hike.

The way back down afforded more picturesque opportunities, and some more banter. Along on our tour (in fact, perhaps helping to organize it?) was the US Ambassador to Tajikistan. A good bit more involved than the Kyrgyz equivalent, she was winding up her tour in Dushanbe after 3 years and previous posts in Latvia and Turkmenistan. A smart lady, no doubt, she was quite gung-ho about not only the hike, but the foreign service as a career option. I must say that, despite her pitch that "not many people work for the same boss for 21 years without any regrets," I haven't exactly reached peace with the prospect of playing Uncle Sam's strong arm in whatever country (familiarity doesn't matter - it's all basically the same) I would wind up in. But it never hurts to feel professionally desirable, even if it's a job offer from the local McDonalds night shift manager.

I took a short, icy shower (the mojo of hot water at Hotel Vakhsh remains a mystery now for 2 days), and met up with 'Afar. He had invited me over to his house for dinner, and again, I wasn't about to refuse.

For dinner we had more Osh, as well as "salad" (any collection of vegetables), and the bitterest yoghurt I have ever tried in my life. I did manage to swallow the first big spoon full, but no amount of veggies or rice was going to cut that enough for round 2.

We talked more about Tajikistan, the civil war ('Afar's family is from the Garm district, where much of the opposition Islamic movement was formed), and watched Euronews. The big stories were about Obama in Ghana, the "Usually Pro-Democrat New York Times revealing the Former Vice-President Cheney kept a CIA operations Secret from Congress for 8 years", Uighur unrest in Xinjiang (and how it was no big deal), and international golf updates.

As the night wore on, 'Afar put in a DVD of a classic old Soviet cartoon called ну, погодни ("Nu, Pogodni" - no pictures, my sincere apologies!), which is quite similar to Tom&Jerry, or Roadrunner/Wiley Coyote.

It was good times, and as the hour got late (10:30 - all day in the sun makes me a virtual octogenarian) I made my way back to the hotel and collapsed.

28 years down, hopefully a good lot more to go.

And for most of us, July 13 is just another day. Even in giant digital lights.

Weber (on the lamb)