Tuesday, September 20, Eva 0 Comments. Wednesday, September 14, Eva 0 Comments. Thursday, September 08, Eva 0 Comments. Thursday, September 01, Eva 0 Comments. Home About Us Contact. Uzbekistan Part V - Fergana Valley. Feeling much more energetic and on the mend after commencing a course of antibiotics, we were ready to hit the road again in the opposite direction, this time east of Tashkent to Fergana Valley, the last leg of our Uzbek roadtrip.
At first Marat put on American country music, which he is fond of. No, no, I said. So, we listened to contemporary and traditional tunes, some sung in Russian, others in Uzbek and still others in Tajik. Roadside stalls along the way and on the return once again proved to be interesting stops, especially to us foreigners. A major military checkpoint meant handing our passports to our driver who then passed them over for processing.
Max and Marat in cotton fields Cotton blossom below or should that be a cotton bud? Here we were shown around several bazaars, bustling places all of them with gold-toothed smiling vendors, many asking to have their photo taken and wanting to know where we were from. Some offered us samples of crystallised sugar, fruit or a handful of peanuts. We passed by stalls of fruits and vegetables, breads, sacks of nuts and spices, crisp sweet pastries lightly sprinkled with caraway seeds stacked high in little piles, past the sour smell of the dairy section where homemade yoghurt filled plastic Coke bottles and mounds of soft farm cheese that looked like cottage cheese lay in tubs or spread out on plastic sheets.
This outdoor market was also THE place to come and buy spare auto parts, kitchen sinks, plumbing fixtures, tools, shoes, ceramics and furniture. It looked like a monster Swapmeet.
A visit to a small silk factory was a fascinating insight into silk production. This factory is renowned for its quality silks, one of the main reasons for visiting Fergana. An intriguing story about how the mystery of silk making reached the West goes that a couple of monks heading back to the Byzantine emperor hid silkworm eggs in their hollowed staffs or should that be staves? Driving past a local bakery made for an impromptu stop to watch a local baker at work.
