UZBEKISTAN - FERGANA VALLEY: Part 2: Margilon

 For the one-hour train ride from Andijon to Margilon we are in a four person coach and thankful that there are only two of us in it.  

Staff on the train are careful to make sure they know where you are going and to give you a heads up when your stop is next, which we greatly appreciate.

On the drive from the train station to our hostel we passed a glistening pure white mosque with four white minarets.  Unfortunately it is under renovation, so not open to the public.

This lovely mosque is pretty close to the hostel.

 Both of the silk factories in Margilon are within walking distance of our accommodation.  We learn different things from each and are glad we took the time to visit both.

We go to this one first, as it is the one we most often see in the 'what to do in Margilon' information, followed by what is simply called Silk Factory

We just drop in to both factories, no reservations.  At Yodgorlik, a young woman greets us in excellent English.  She tells us that the factory is spread throughout several buildings and that we are welcome to go into any building where the door is open, and that the staff in each building will welcome us.  They do.

The last building is the gift shop, which we are encouraged to check out.  She will collect 15,000 som from us for our self-tour when we are ready to leave.

In the Silk Factory, a young lad of about 14 or 15 years greets us, also in excellent English.  He is to be our guide and is so excited to be showing us around that he speaks very fast and has to slow himself down.  

He first tells us that this is a family-owned fourth-generation factory.  Here, there is no fee for the tour and the men put on a fabric dying workshop.   At the end of the workshop, we are lead to their commercial outlet where the array of silk and/or silk + cotton products is quite large.

  There were so many beautiful products, it would be hard to name them all.  Coming home is a table runner, a jacket for Linda, and a new hat for Paul.

Another woman and I are trying on jackets at the same time.  She's the first English-speaking tourist we've met since our arrival a week ago.  She's a bit younger than us (from Germany), on her own, and backpacking around for five months.  We ran into her a couple more times, including at the train station to leave Margilon.

The collage below gives you an idea of what is produced.  The runner in the center comes home with me.

Many of the clothes are illustrated with representations of the pomegranate, which grows here and is a favourite fruit and fruit drink.  It's also loved for the beauty of its shrub, flowers and fruit.  It has taken many symbolic meanings over the years, including: strong union, friendship, fertility, sanctity and abundance.  

I have always loved the Ikat work and was lucky enough to find a reversible jacket that has Ikat on one side and pomegranates on the other side.

At Yodgorlick, most buildings have been painted with some aspect of the silk industry, so we have a look at these first.

The first few buildings at Yodgorlic are dedicated to weaving silk by hand, while the last building is for mechanized weaving.

The woman in the first building we enter is the only worker here and generously gives of her time to show us (with mime) what happens here.

An important first stage is that workers have gone out to harvest the silkworms and to bring in some of the mulberry leaves that they eat.  The worms are kept at the factory as a constant supply of cocoons.

These cocoons consist of a single continuous silk thread that can reach up to one thousand meters long.  We are gifted with our own cocoons.

The cocoons are then soaked in hot water to soften the sericin (binding protein) and unwound.  Multiple cocoon filaments are combined and twisted together to create silk thread.  Once the cocoon is all unwound, there remains the creature that was inside.  Apparently, birds love them, and the Silk Factory has a big cage with some budgies that are fat and full.

In the collage below is the woman at Yodgorlik who showed us around.  She has been soaking her cocoons, and if you look carefully at the top right photo, you will see how very fine the filaments are.  Then we sit at the wheel where she begins to spin the filaments.  There is a bit of an odour from the soaking cocoons, but it's rather pleasant.

This lovely worker then takes the time to serve us tea.  Before leaving, she wraps my wrist with a strand of twisted silk threads.

The 'sampler' below shows different colours that are dyed and some of the different sizes of the spun and twisted silk thread.

Below, women from the silk factory are spinning silk on a wheel and have samples of different threads.  Pulling on a silk thread shows its great strength,

The thread is then dyed.

At the Silk Factory, our young guide shows us pots of dried flowers, herbs, leaves and twigs that are soaked and used to create the natural dyes (bottom left in collage below).

Then men from the factory sit down with the eight or so of us that happened to be here, to show us how to make dye, twist the silk to get different patterns, then dip it.  Their newly made, wet scarves hang on the line and will be sold in the store.

The fabric, still on the looms below, is sold by the meter.  That's how we bought the table runner.  After a few minutes of waiting, they hemmed the ends at no extra charge.

In one room where the women are working, there are looms with partially completed tapestries, rugs, etc.

This room is quite pleasant with lots of windows, and the support beams for the looms are all hand-painted.  

What's amazing is how they can tape a photocopy of what they want to create and then use it to make intricate patterns, moving one thread at a time.  See the pattern in the photo below.

Partially completed projects with intricate patterns.

Another fascinating thing to watch is how the women must use foot pedals and their hands at the same time to do the weaving and how quickly they do it without paying much attention to what their hands and feet are doing.  Perhaps in the future I can download two videos I have of this impressive work, but for now stills have to do.

This by-hand way of making silk originated in China 5,000 years ago.

The last room at Yodgorlik is where the mechanized product is made.  I could only stand to be in there for 5 minutes as it was so very, very loud.  The (mostly) women who work there have no hearing protection.  Awful working conditions.  Again, I have videos to let you listen, but not the technology to upload them.  There are a few photos below of the machinery.

All in all, this was a fascinating day.

We get ourselves to a traditional restaurant and enjoy lunch.

The food was delicious and the staff very caring.  First the server wanted a selfie with me, then the cooks wanted photos too.

The next day, our last, we had planned to take a shared taxi to either the city of Fergana (capital city of the Fergana Valley) or to Rishton to the ceramic factory., each one a half hour drive away.  We have seen so many bloggers say the only time they have been terrified is on the roads of Uzbekistan.  It's true, we can see it as even city roads are used as racetracks.  This is not just our impression, as the number of road accidents and fatalities in Uzbekistan is more than forty-five percent above the EU average. 

Eventually, we meander to the Said Akmal-Khoja Madrash - another beautiful ancient building that has become an arts and crafts learning and business center.

The first artisan we come across is a young man.  He has hand-carved all of his blocks in traditional designs to do block printing by hand onto silk.  He mostly makes scarves.

On the left below he is dabbing his dye onto the block.

Very few other artisans were around on Sunday.  

We dine late on our last night, and it's dark on exiting the restaurant, but oh so warm.  Maps says it's a thirty-three-minute walk back 'home'.  The route is through streets that look like back alleys, and often the only light that keeps us from stepping into potholes is from the light of the cell phone screen.

In most other countries, I'd be more than a little worried, but here it feels safe.  People pedalling by with no lights or reflectors on their ride call out a greeting.

Even more than Tashkent, we have been amazed by the curiosity people have for us.  Elderly men pedal on their bicycles, ringing their bell to stop us to ask 'where from?'  

One man mimed for us to follow him to his house for tea.  Unfortunately, we were headed somewhere and felt both guilty and sad for declining his generous offer.

The taxi driver who took us early in the morning to the train station refused to charge us.  Paul eventually got him to take a small amount of money.

The ceiling inside the train station

The trains here are all electric.

We're back on the same train that brought us here.  This time we end up in a roomy first-class booth.

A few photos from along the route.  We also see shepherds and their sheep, donkeys, half a dozen stork nests all occupied, but we are too slow with the camera.  The water you see is dammed for power.

We are in Tashkent for a day, then an early flight to Nukus.

UZBEKISTAN - FERGANA VALLEY: Part 1: Andijan

 The old train leaves Tashkent at 8:10 am precisely, and to end the suspense, we arrive at the Andijan station at 2:20 in the afternoon, only five minutes late.

While the train slowly chugged, swayed and lurched along, the train stations were clean and modern.

There are only a few photos from the train window.  

We followed a river for a while and spotted this little village with a swing bridge with no railings. It was just logs bound together over a fast-moving river.  Not me.  (Tap on the phone and make it bigger to see the bridge well.) 

The nearby mountains are still snow-capped

The train runs alongside this massive open-pit coal mine for miles.  You'll also notice the air pollution in the background.

We are now in the Fergana Valley to the far east of Uzbekistan, near the Kyrgyzstan border.  The view from the train window saw heavy industry, farms, vineyards, mining, and what looked like the oil or gas industry.  This area was an important participant in the Silk Road.

While we saw large vineyards through the train window, we also noticed how every patch of flat land by the tracks was utilized.  Here is a small patch with grapes growing.

Today, the Andijan region is one of the most populous in Uzbekistan.  Here, people tend to speak Uzbekistan or Tajikistan and less Russian, whereas in Tashkent, it was the Uzbek or Russian languages that were more common.

Andijan, the city, is 2,500+ years old and is much bigger than we were expecting.  Newly off the train, we are standing near the open doors of a travel agency/English language school, trying to locate the route to our hotel, when the administrator spots us and comes out.  She joins us for several blocks to get us going in the right direction.

Even with her assistance, it took us a while to find the hotel, including with help from several people on the street.  Looking back, we are not sure why, as there's a big red sign on the building face.  

The room is clean and bright, and nothing like we've ever stayed in before.  

 Every landing has a vase of huge paper roses, and one big one inside each room.  Every guest door has a different coloured wreath, tied on with a red ribbon.  It feels quite welcoming.

The room is well insulated from the street noise and lights below us, has A/C, comfortable beds and is decorated in a very elaborate fashion.  The huge chandelier, the ceiling decoration around it and the recessed, lighted ceiling leaves us speechless and the gold wallpaper everywhere and crown molding is impressive.

Our hotel is at an extremely busy intersection that rivals the chaos and noise that we have seen in other big cities like Hanoi.  There is an abundance of little Chevrolet minivans (called Damas) that taxi drivers favour.  We learn that in 2019, the Government of Uzbekistan acquired the GM plant operating in the country and renamed it UzAuto Motors.

Paul is sure that as soon as purchased the horn is upgraded to something many decibels higher than from the factory.  A colour other than white is so unusual that we had to capture it.

Everyone drives (too) fast with one foot on the gas and one hand on the horn.  Pedestrians take major risks every time they cross the street.  Taxi drivers are shouting, competing for customers, and people are selling their wares on the street.  From the relative calm and orderliness of Tashkent, Andijan feels loud and chaotic.  It takes a day for us to get used to it and enjoy it.

One really cannot compare Andijan with Tashkent.  It is said that Andijan is a more authentic experience, while Tashkent, being the capital, is a cultural, political, and economic hub and a more worldly place to visit.  It was heavily influenced by Russian architecture and infrastructure planning.  It has more upscale hotels and international restaurants that many tourists favour.

Andijan is more like a big neighbourhood with deep cultural roots and traditions, while people from all over Uzbekistan come to Tashkent to work.

Andijan feels more alive and more gritty.  Here we see garbage on the streets, a few people  (mostly the handicapped or even the aged) begging for some money and more people getting by selling second-hand tools and clothes, inexpensive trinkets and housewares.

What is common to both is the good nature and kindness of the people.

Like Tashkent, Andijan has its historic hero.  Here it's Barbur.  His relationship to Andijen and the complexities of what he did or didn't do are a bit beyond me, but there are statues, a museum and a park dedicated to him.

In Tashkent, we ate in restaurants, whereas in Andijan, we revelled in the street food.  Paul became very good at scoping out what to buy and where to buy it.

Tonight, for example, our dinner in the hotel room is from the street - a kebab, a samsa stuffed with potato and onion, a tasty fermented salad with carrots and cabbage, and one of Paul's favourites: a salad made from mild onion sliced very thinly and marinated in dressing and spices.  The cost of this dinner, including beer, was a grand total of $4.07 for both of us.

One of our favourite street foods is Samsa.  These packets of ever-so-light and flaky pastry are baked in a tandoor and can be stuffed with vegetables (Linda especially likes the spinach) or with meat (mostly chicken or beef) or with a combination of both.

Botis (the young man who spent a day with us in Tashkent) took us to meet his father, who raised a family selling samsa on the street.

An interesting snack is what we call 'cheese balls', but here they are known as kurt (or variations on that spelling).  Note the similarity to our word curd.

  These are made from dried sour milk and simply seasoned with salt or pepper.  Some have a more aged and pungent taste than others.  These dried balls are a perfect food for travel as long as one has liquid to drink.  They have a pronounced astringent effect in the mouth, and yet the mouth tingles with the sour.  We like them with beer.  In the market, we see basins of the ingredients ready to be made into balls.

We have to work to find beer here in this muslim country, but Paul spots a liquor store.  A 0.45 litre (tall can) of Tuborg beer (made in Uzbekistan with licensing from Tuborg of Copenhagen) costs 96 cents.  This is far less expensive than in Mexico, where we lived for half a dozen years.

We manage to resist the beautiful cakes in the bakeries.

Here, there is a much greater selection of the flat breads than just the one type we saw mostly in Tashkent.  These are only a few of the types we saw in the market.

The produce in this market has a more from-the-farm look with dirt still attached than the polished and perfectly composed vegetables we saw in Tashkent.

And who could forget the jewel-coloured shabbat sold on the street?  These are natural syrups made from pomegranate or cherries (red), mulberry (deep purple), apricot (golden yellow) and mint or tarragon (emerald green).  They are made by boiling the natural fruit juices with flower petals, herbs and sugar until a concentrate is formed.  When you order one, the vendor mixes some syrup with water and/or ice.

This is a good time to talk about tea in Uzbekistan.  Tea is ubiquitous here.

It's the only refreshment offered at no charge on our 2nd. class train seat 'with service', while even a small bottle of water is similar to 'airport' prices.

Here, it's tradition to serve a bowl of green Uzbek tea to guests (whether invited or uninvited).  In the mornings and after a heavy meal it's served hot, but cold in the hot afternoons.  It opens and ends meals and is a separate "dish" during the day.  There is never a day without tea, and it is always freshly brewed.

In ancient times, nomads had tea (ak-tea) brewed with milk, sugar, butter, salt and pepper for the caloric boost.  Back then, tea came from a very long distance on the Silk Road, so it was expensive.  Wealthy people would drink up to 20 cups of high-quality green tea a day, while poor people drank a tea (khoshak) made of two varieties of grass, cereal pepper, Chubb-tea and cinnamon.

Green tea is affordable by all now and is common throughout the country, while in Tashkent, black tea is preferred.

There is ritual and rules about who makes and serves the tea to whom, how long the tea steeps and the ratio of tea leaves to water.  It is usually handed over by the server with their left hand, while the right hand, in the giving is over their heart.

Teahouses are still common on the streets here.

So, away from food and drink for a while.  Linda had some health issues today, so the two things we had planned for the visit to Andijan did not happen.  We enjoyed exploring neighbourhoods instead.

We are blown away by the sheer number of English language colleges here.  On the main streets, there is literally one on each block, sometimes two. People see the English language as an asset.

On our outing today, we came across several old trucks like these from the soviet era, repurposed and still working.  This is similar to what we saw in parts of Albania.

The old wooden window frames and fascia are to be admired.

It is our last and only second night here, so we go for a stroll in the warm evening air.  Already, people recognize and greet us.  We sit on a bench for a while, and a gentleman who has a small street cart that sells refreshments and snacks comes over and gifts us each with a bottle of water.  So generous.

With check out of the hotel, we are able to walk to the train station and securely store luggage until the train leaves at 3:30.  Staff help us get a taxi out to the Devonaboy mosque, and we have time to visit the Jami Complex.  

Devonaboy Mosque

We spot the blue domes of the two minarets of the mosque from a distance.  It's located in the Old Town (Eski Shahar) area of Andijan.  It was built in 1899, reconstructed in 2018 and expanded so that 5,000 people can pray inside at the same time.  The height of the minarets was also increased to 35 meters.  

We were not able to find any English signs at the mosque to say when non-muslims were allowed into the building (from the time of call to prayer and during each prayer time is only for the faithful), nor could we find anyone to ask, so we visited only from the outside.  Workers were busy on scaffolding, replacing some of the tiles.

Jami Complex

As we rounded the corner to head to the Jami Complex, there was a walkway past this restaurant.  Rather than having a table and chairs, here there was a table with short legs sitting on what looked like a bedframe with cushions on it.  The men were sitting cross-legged on the seating area around the table.  I admire their flexibility, as I could not do this.

Again, we did not go inside the Jami complex, but that was fine as we were in awe of the outdoor ceiling

Artisans Area

Nervous about whether we can find a taxi to get to the train station in time, we arrived a bit early, so head to a bar that Paul stopped by the previous night while looking for our dinner.  The manager recognized Paul, and when ready to leave, we were gifted a bag that contained two cold local beers.

MISCELLANEOUS PHOTOS

Below is an art installation on the street.  Many streets decorated with lights that are not turned on - perhaps an energy-saving measure.

Many buildings are covered in signs like these, so there's some visual chaos added to the noise.

In both Tashkent and in Andijon, we see the love of roses.  There are many archways covered in a climbing variety with smallish pink flowers.  And plants that have been shaped by topiary.   The bouquets of roses sold from street carts are enormous, and their wrapping can be quite elaborate.  Anyone who has a little patch of dirt near their home often fills it with roses.

The big child mannequins in the window are eye-catching.  In the second photo, many of the mannequins for adults are quite fancy with gold mesh faces, gold skin and other adornments.

On to Margilon, land of cotton, silk and silk factories.