Talking Tajik: Iskanderkul

This past weekend was unique, to say the least. Some friends and I decided to take a trip north to Iskanderkul. As the trip was not sponsored by American Councils, my friend Chris took on the responsibility of planning out the logistics. He found us a driver and a tourist company to rent us tents, both of which were very reasonably priced. The best laid plans, however, often go awry..

So the plan was to meet at 7AM on Saturday morning and to get to Iskanderkul in the early afternoon. Everyone was pretty excited to go. Since Wednesday morning, Dushanbe had fallen victim to a massive dust storm that blew in from Afghanistan. It made the city look foggy all day, and made breathing outdoors a bit more hazardous than usual. Needless to say, when we pulled out of Dushanbe on Saturday morning, everyone was relieved to know we would be camping by a crystal clear lake in the mountains for the weekend.

Our RD told us the drive to Iskanderkul is about 5 hours. We have been noticing, though, that American Councils often likes to lower our expectations as often as possible. The drive up was a great example of this. We made it to Iskanderkul in 2.5 hours and encountered zero problems along the way. The only excitement came when we drove through a local landmark known as the 'Tunnel of Death.' The tunnel is notorious for how poorly it was made. An Iranian company built it years ago and did a terrible job. The Tunnel of Death is about five miles long. Water from the mountain rivers leak through the roof and just form massive puddles in the road. The road itself has more potholes than smooth pavement. To top it all off, the tunnel has no emergency exits or vents to remove the smog. So if you get stuck in there, you are in deep trouble. The tunnel was straight out of a post-apocalyptic horror film. It was so terrifying that I couldn't stop laughing. Our driver barely seemed to notice.

Our driver's name was Zafar. He also went with us to the Pamirs and we got along with him quite well. We had to stop a few times along the way for him to exchange pleasantries with the locals, who were only described to us as his 'cousins.' Zafar seemed to know everyone in Tajikistan. This became a huge help once we realized that the tourist company could no longer provide us with tents. Unconcerned, Zafar somehow managed to use his connections to get us one of the nicest cabins in all of Iskanderkul, even though the tourist season had ended one week earlier. The cabin was right on the lake and was only $12 per person. The amazing Zafar even wrangled us up some veggies and vodka for dinner. It was a great time.

During the day we explored the area. We found a precarious viewing platform that looked out onto a pretty cool waterfall. After lunch, we went to another nearby lake called Snake Lake. Unlike Iskanderkul, Snake Lake was not over-polluted with mercury in the Soviet days, so Chris and Amanda decided to go for a swim. The water was apparently colder than death and they got out after about ten seconds. The area surrounding Iskanderkul was just beautiful. It was a lot of fun to explore.

Nighttime on the lake was freezing and very windy. A bonfire was not possible.This meant we had to find some fun indoors. We all bonded over various card games and foreign alcohols. On Sunday morning, everyone slept in, ate a late breakfast and cleaned up the cabin. We left for Dushanbe around 10AM and were hoping to get back to the city by noon. But this was not to be so.

After driving for about a half hour, we noticed a large group of people looking over the wall of a cliff. We decided to pull over and check out the scene. At the bottom of the hill, there was a large party being held. Of course, Zafar knew someone in the crowd of people. The man insisted that we all come down to the party. It turned out to be a circumcision party (a common Tajik affair) for two little boys. The man that recognized Zafar was the father of one of the lucky lads.

The party was wild. I found out from talking to the one father (I forget his name, but let's call him Umid for convenience sake) that the circumcisions had occurred at 6AM and everyone had been drinking since then. At least half of the men there were plastered and it wasn't even 11AM. They cleared off a table for us and brought fresh Osh, veggies, naan, tea and vodka. It was astonishing how the people made us feel so welcome, but had never before met any of us. All they knew was that we were friends of Zafar and that was enough. We ate, drank and danced. It was a hoot. Umid, after speaking with me for five or ten minutes, asked if I was from Iran. Never have I received a higher compliment. He was probably a little drunk, but I appreciated Umid's misconception nonetheless.

After we were all well-acquainted and in high spirits, Chris told Umid that I play the daf (a big, round, flat Persian tambourine without the jingles) really well. This was an inside joke from earlier in our trip, but the father didn't pick up on it. He brought me over to the man who was playing the daf at the party. I kept insisting that I didn't know how to play. Eventually they all understood. But when the music stopped, they handed me the microphone and the place went silent. They wanted me to give a toast. I had never given a toast before, nor had I ever attended a circumcision party. So I was way out of my element. What does one toast to at a circumcision party? I ended up just thanking them for the hospitality and wishing them all well. I also alluded to how much we all love Tajikistan and how much we especially loved that party. The first part of the toast was in Persian and then they wanted to hear some English as well so they made me switch. All ~150 pairs of eyes at the party were on me. I was super nervous. When I finished, everyone clapped enthusiastically, so that was comforting. It was not my most eloquent moment, but it was certainly a unique experience.

We left after about an hour and a half. The drive home was pretty uneventful, including the trek back through the Tunnel of Death. I think we all had a bunch of homework, so the rest of the evening in Dushanbe was pretty quiet. Everyone agreed that it was an amazing weekend, though. I have had a lot of outrageously unique experiences in Tajikistan so far, but this weekend took the cake. I experienced a massive dust storm, survived the Tunnel of Death, stayed at one of the most beautiful lakes in Tajikistan, got a sweet upgrade of sleeping accommodations, and got to toast two young Tajik boys' recent circumcisions. I will remember this weekend for a very long time.

Oh, also, as of ten days ago, this is the longest I've ever been out of the US.

More pictures below.