So, with another week past, I must admit, I had
expected to write about something regarding some vague aspect of Tajik culture
that had been interesting me. After all, with a weekly excursion so lovingly
marked as “Tajik and Iranian bookstores and Afghan restaurant”, this certainly wasn't going to be a weekend to remember, right?
Wrong.
True, the actual excursion was nothing to write home
about, and due to the Iranian bookstore being closed (for reasons that really didn't make much sense), I only came home with a Tajiki language copy of
Rudaki’s works. Similarly, the “Afghan restaurant” was a Tajik restaurant, but
the Afghan osh (the local Central Asian variant of rice pilaf) they served was a
marvelous change of pace from the near constant menagerie of vegetarian soups
that my host family has been giving me for dinner.
But then I got home…
Now, as opposed to the other two host families, my
homestay has been relatively quiet. A real of lack of guests, aside from the
host mother’s nephew (and his wife) and her sister (and her husband) have
graced my adopted household. But Saturday night…it was a party the likes of
which I’d never seen! True, it seemed to be solely for the grandfather figure
of the family and a collection of other men (my inclusion to the affair was the
matter of intense debate, but my promise that I would speak Farsi and change
into a suit seemed to seal the deal). Upon entry, I learned the reason for the
snazzy shindig…cockfighting. Apparently, harmless little Baba Bozor and his
friends get together on Saturdays and watch the birds they've been raising
fight to the death.
You might be wondering if I’m complaining, but wait,
I haven’t gotten to the best part yet. After about an hour of having old men
randomly trying to engage me in various topics in Farsi/Tajiki, the food was
here. And it was (I seriously hope someone has guessed it by now)…chicken. Yep,
we ate the losers. That made Saturday the first day in Tajikistan that I've had
meat in all three meals. And it was glorious. Must say, ‘animal rights’ be
damned, I love me some Tajik chicken…
Alright, alright, so my Saturday turned out to be
eventful, which means Sunday was a day full of homework, yes? Haha, again (I
imagine you definitely saw this one coming), false. I decided to go on a nice,
relaxing, 15 km hike. Yes, a friend of mine somehow convinced me that the way I
wanted to spend my Sunday was to go a hike with a bunch of expats in the small
mountains north of Varzob. And yes, it was certainly beautiful, and yes,
falling face-first into one of ponds next to the waterfall (and emerging from
said pool freezing but with all my electronics working) was certainly nice. But
I think I’ll wait before my next hike…
No idea what my next post will be on/when it’ll be.
Ideas always appreciated. As always: Tashakkur and khudo hafez.
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