Getting to Bishkek - the Tashkent legs

I arrived at Tashkent to find a relatively mild winter morning and three buses awaiting to take us to the airport. The first official guy I asked about which one was the transit bus said 'no, no', which I was tempted to say was not an appropriate answer to my eminently reasonable question; thankfully, the guy next to him pointed me in the right direction. The bus was packed full and we stood around for about 10 more minutes – I was tempted to crack a 'small talk joke' about how maybe we were waiting for the bus to get fuller, except that I didn't think it would cause the girl next to me pleasure, but rather angst as she wouldn't have understood the joke (see below for the cross-cultural experience that influenced this decision not to attempt to make conversation).

Tashkent airport was like no other airport I've ever seen – it looks like a marble mansion that once used to be a grand Russian place and now is dilapidated and slightly falling apart. Vestiges of its former glory remain, like an incongruous red carpet leading up the stars into a dark corridor which turns into a room that turns out to be where you check in for transit. I found this out by lining up, having tried abortively to ask a Russian-looking girl in front of me whether all the counters were the same. Having stood in line for ages, my guy told me to go to the next counter – he was evidently not confident enough to process my e-ticket. Thank God for the friendly guy there who got it done.

On the KL-Tashkent leg, I discovered the difficulties of attempting communicating when one speaks no Russian and the Russian guy from Siberia who is sitting next to one speaks very little English. I eventually gave up, after causing the poor guy to look pained several times and to say 'slow, please' before shaking his head uneasily in total resignation. This has made me determined to learn Russian quickly, so that I can at least start communicating with locals!

I was stopped at the airport security on the way to the bus that would take us to the Bishkek because of all the metal jewellery and beaded jewellery-making stuff in my backpack. Having ascertained that the metal was in fact jewellery by being shown my earrings, etc., the security guy was obviously convinced that I was not a terrorist. With this certainty, his next line to me was “You stay in Uzbekistan. Marry me. You beautiful.” So, in my 3 hours in Tashkent, I received a marriage proposition. Of course I smiled and moved on to my bus. I found this highly amusing. I have found many things on this trip highly amusing and have enjoyed it thus far.