A Visit Back to Tajikistan

Looking across the Zarafshon River at Panjakent.  A mountain range of the same name rises in the distance.  The Zarafshons boast peaks as high as 18 thousand feet, but the ones in this photo are "only" 10 to 12 thousand feet.  

"Hello!  What is your name?"

I've been back in Tajikistan for a short visit to Anna.  Every walk in the small city of Panjakent, her post for this year, seems to feature this exchange with least one child, usually several.

These little interactions reveal the warmth of local children and also the unusualness of westerners here.  In comparison, this kind of thing almost never happened in Khujand, the much larger city where we lived last year.  Tourists from Iran and Russia are part of the scene in Panjakent; the Uzbek tourist mecca of Samarkand is not even two hours away across the border.  Evidently, we don't pass as Iranian or Russian to these kids.

We're leaving today for Almaty, Kazakhstan.  This will be a new destination for both of us, so that's exciting.

It's an interesting time to be in Tajikistan.  Spring is springing, and it's such a lovely time of year here.  Ramadan started while I was here.  The multi-day celebrations around Navruz have also kicked into gear. I wrote about both of these holidays last year.  Last year, Ramadan fell just after Navruz.  The overlap this year is the first since 1992.  Navruz festivities that might happen during the day will be shifted to after sundown, but it'll be interesting to see and hear from people in Kazakhstan over the next few days about other aspects of this unusual dynamic.  Almaty has religious diversity, but it's still majority Muslim. 

Another item of interest is electricity.  I've been working on this post here and there in recent days, alomst always without power.  Energy rationing is a constant in Tajik villages, however the whole country has been enduring daily blackouts for about two to three weeks now.  It's annoying, but it's not like my livelihood or safety are threatened.  The cuts are inconsistent and no schedule is shared, however a typical day has been power out around 8am and back on close to 6pm.  I'm looking forward to a hot lunch and afternoon coffee.

As for Panjakent itself, it definitely has a different vibe than Khujand.  It's about a quarter the size--50,000 compared to 200,000.  It's also majority Uzbek.  Khujand has a large Uzbek minority but is majority Tajik.  Khujand also has diversity that Panjakent doesn't have.  There don't seem to be any Russian ex-pats living here and Anna is one of only literally a handful of foreigners.  It's all a bit ironic considering this is an ancient Silk Road city.  Scores of foreigners passing through was the norm hundreds of year ago.  Not anymore though. 

We spent a night in Panjakent two different times last year so I did have a bit of feel for the city before coming here now.  There's just a lot less to do here, at least by our standards and preferences.  Khujand has a movie theater, a couple of western-style coffee shops, and a handful of Chinese brand stores.  Panjakent has none of these.

One thing Panjakent does have going for it is easy access to spectacular nature.  The city is flanked to its north and south by imposing mountains, the peaks so close that you feel encircled.  A great way to get a taste for these mountains is to journey a little out of town to Ancient Panjakent, which was my main new experience this time here.  This pre-Islamic site lies on an imposing bluff above the modern city.  Significant excavation and preservation happened during Soviet times and continues on a smaller scale today.  For better or for worse, one can just walk around the century old ruins completely unhindered.  It's one of those big open spaces with a quiet majesty.  Just look at these views!  

Modern Panjakent as viewed from Ancient Panjakent.

Anna walking at Ancient Panjakent.

It didn't hit me until drafting this post, but there's a symmetry to this trip.  I lived in Tajikistan for nine months.  Nine months later I'm back.  I don't think I'll be back here in nine months.  It might not even be nine years.  I do know I want to come back though. Рахмат, Tajkistan.  Thank you.  Until we meet again.