Saturday, July 30, 2011

Day 4: Preparations for Ramadan and the Varzob River

"Nooshin, raftim!" These were the first words I heard this morning. Nooshin is my Persian name (which I am beginning to loathe because I hear it so much, something about the extended iiiiin sound at the end is like the sound of an alarm clock). I also have another new name, but that one is for school and this one for home. The second word here, "raftim" is particularly peculiar to me because as I have learned it, it means "we went." But here in Tajikistan, it means "let's go!"

We had plans to go to the bazaar today and get all of the fruit, vegetables and meat we would need for the coming month. It seems that there were two reasons for this. First, because my host got paid at work yesterday. Secondly, because Ramadan is just around the corner. And apparently prices for food go way up during Ramadan. Something tells me that it's not because the demand is low.

Of course we didn't immediately go to the bazaar. There's no way we were escaping the house without being fed first. Today's breakfast menu was a very popular Tajik national dish called Ord Biriyan which I think means "fried flour." It's a kind of very heavy soup (I assume that is because water is mostly replaced by oil) that I am told they give to pregnant women and people who have colds. Since my health was destroyed by going from exceedingly hot Istanbul to rainy cold London and then to a very warm Dushanbe, my host's mother was convinced that this would cure me. "It gives power!" they told me. "It's going to give me a heart attack!" was all I could think as I eyed the oil floating on the top. But I was still forced to eat it.

And then to the bazaar raftim. We went in the back gate, the less-known one because the prices are cheaper. Sure enough we got one kilo (2.2lbs) of garlic for 7 Somoni (less than $1.50USD). At the front gate one kilo was going for 11 Somoni! My host says it's because foreigners go to the front gate and not many people know about the secluded back entrance. We walked around the bazaar for 2 hours. My host talked to everyone and checked out all of the food and prices. It felt like there wasn't a single seller that she missed. There were so many people selling the same things right beside each other, and I've never really understood how that works. In my head it seems like one person would make their prices lower and drive everyone out of business, but that doesn't seem to be the case. In choosing who to buy from, my host just seemed to go with her instinct, given that all the prices in the back part of the market were the same. And there was just some kind of balance that existed. After 2 hours, we had collected so much food (including 7 kilos/15.5lbs of onions!) that we had to hire a young boy with a large wagon to follow us around.

We passed by a couple of stores on the way home to pick up other necessities (cigarettes and ketchup), and there were lots of people stocking up alcohol, which it seems will be less available in the coming month. When we finally arrived home, we spread out our treasures on the kaat (a raised platform we sit on to eat) and my host recalled to her mother how much we paid for everything. Her mom was especially happy about the 10 kilos/22lbs of meat that we bought. The butcher also gave us several extra pieces for free be name khoda (in the name of God). I was particularly happy about my new stash of ajeel (think Central Asian trail mix)! I now have green raisins, dried pineapple slices, sugar-coated almonds, salty almonds, toot (which translate to "berry" but isn't like a berry at all. it's dry and a little bit tough, but wonderful), and some other kind of sugar-coated nuts. I'm thinking of getting rid of all of my stuff and just filling my suitcase with these little treats!


We sat snacking and resting for a little while and set off for the Varzob River just outside of Dushanbe. On the way we had to get gas. We went back to the same station. No gas. And my host said her brother didn't want to buy from the other gas station, so we went to a random house where they sell gasoline. They didn't have any either, but told us to go two streets down where there was another house selling gas. Apparently this gas isn't stolen (it's bought from a company), but still it was highly unorthodox. We were seriously sitting in an alley outside of a house getting gas! And this time I managed to snap a couple of pictures. The man had the gasoline in 1.5 liter water bottles and in other various plastic bottles.



Finally we were filled up and ready to go to the Varzob River! We drove alongside it for a while as it wove in between mountains. We chose to stop at this outdoor restaurant where they have kaats right beside the river under the trees. They also make very good BBQ! We lounged about for several hours. I even fell asleep - which is a new habit I'm acquiring here. I also taught my host's daughter how to mix orange and pineapple juice to make a marvelous cocktail!



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