My latest book: Two Legends of Uzbekistan

My newest book is out… in Uzbekistan! Two Legends of Uzbekistan is a mythology book featuring two well-known legends of the region. Special thanks to my artist collaborators, Husan Sadykov and Shavkat Muzaffar who brought the stories to life with brilliance. Chargé d’affaires Philip Kosnett presented the book during a special ceremony at the U.S. Embassy in Tashkent. The Embassy will gift the book, written in English, Russian and Uzbek, to foreign dignitaries and visiting U.S. officials as a symbol of artistic creation between the people of America and Uzebekistan. For more on the story in English, click the link.

http://www.12news.uz/en/2013/08/06/the-u-s-embassy-and-uzbek-artists-present-two-legends-of-uzbekistan/

The author and artists gather around a table covered with original artwork images from “Two Legends of Uzbekistan.”

 

Halloween, Half a World Away

Just because we’re living on the other side of the planet, doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate Halloween in style. Every year the embassy puts on a big Halloween party for local and American staff and their families. There are trick-or-treat booths, music, food, a costume contest and a bouncy castle. My own involvement as a volunteer comes with helping organize the haunted house!
Though we have a limited budget and materials (further complicated by the need to wait 3 weeks for anything ordered from the U.S. that might have been forgotten), the folks from the CLO (Community Liaison Office) and local volunteers always come together to put on a great haunted house!
I don’t have many photos since the area is dark and I was busy being scary, but I do have a few. Last year, the storage cage in the warehouse was home to a werewolf.
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This year that space housed a mad scientist and his monster (not pictured).
My role last year was as a victim.
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Yes, I know that my shoes don’t match. I suppose I was actually a “fashion” victim…
This year, after folks made their way through the graveyard and its zombies…
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… they entered a vampire nest. Only Van Helsingberg, Jewish Vampire Hunter, could protect them!
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(Once the people got past the vampires, the vamps killed me. I guess I should’ve stuck to writing about monsters instead of fighting them.)
And finally, here’s the winner of the costume contest, our very own Queen of the Nile!
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I hope everyone had as great a Halloween 2012 as I did. Next year, I’ll be celebrating it in America!
Hmmm… we never did figure out what happened to my other leg after last year’s haunted house…
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One Year Later

Here I am at the one-year mark. One year in Tashkent, Uzbekistan.

It’s been an interesting year and now that I’ve lived here for a while I’m feeling pretty much over all the wide-eyed wonder. I’ve heard that folks in the Foreign Service tend to go through several phases when living overseas. At first they’re overwhelmed and excited to be in a foreign culture. After a while, they get used to it but still appreciate all the differences. Later, however, there’s a bit of a trough in the pleasure graph: a point at which living overseas begins to lose its luster.

After three weeks back in the states (with a side trip to London), that’s pretty much where I am now. I’ve been back home where I ate at my favorite restaurants and saw beloved friends and family. I was in LA, at San Diego Comic Con, visiting family in Las Vegas and enjoying New York. We spent nearly a week in Austin, constantly wondering why we ever left in the first place. Even the simple things, like being able to walk into a store and buy something with a credit card instead of a stack of bills as tall as my water bottle served to remind me of what I’m missing. Now I look around and it’s hard not to focus on the crumbling streets and lawless driving or the large packs of police everywhere you turn. I still enjoy walking to the local bazaar for fresh food straight from the fields, but I’m really missing home.

All this tells me that it’s time for a change. I have several projects fully scripted and it’s time to put up or shut up. One now has an artist attached, someone I’ve worked with before and was dying to work with again. The other two need illustrators to move forward, so now I’m looking around, trying to find that perfect partner for each story.

Another big change comes as one of the embassy spouses leaves with her husband for their next post. That opened up a part-time job in the embassy: the job I’ve had my eye on since I came to Uzbekistan. The job is a Public Affairs Assistant position writing articles for the embassy’s website. Hmmm… writing articles every day? Proofreading content? Managing social media outreach? Yeah, I’m just a little familiar with those things as a writer, editor and, of course, supermodel.

The catch, of course, is that I’d be working in the same department as my wife. I know I’m fine with that and she’s fine with that, but even if the interviewers choose me for the job, we have to wait and see if the U.S. State Department is fine with that. Basically, the HR department has to ask someone in Washington who doesn’t know us whether it’s okay for Lisa and I to work together. Normally the job owner would report to her position, but the folks here would change it so that I officially report to Lisa’s boss instead.

If I do get the job, it’s around 20 hours a week, leaving me plenty of time to continue my personal projects. The big advantage is that the money I would earn for the job is gravy since Lisa already earns enough to pay our bills. It’s not a big paycheck, being a civil servant assistant position (and part-time at that) but it will be all mine to spend on artists for my projects. Being able to pay an artist goes a loooong way when it comes to finding a pro who can do the job right.

Whether I land the job or not, I’m looking at our next year in Uzbekistan with an eye towards making a change. It’s time to get these projects off the ground and share my stories with fans who love comics as much as I do. Then, after another year here, it’s back to Washington for Spanish language training, followed by two years in Mexico City! I’m very excited about the new post. More on that later.

Next Year in Uzbekistan!

Hello, friends and a happy Passover/Easter/Pagan Spring to you all. How does one celebrate Passover in Uzbekistan? Well, this is my first one so I can’t be sure how it’s been done in previous years. However, I can tell you that we certainly had a great first one!
A group of the Jews and tangental Jews (those who aren’t so religious or married into the Tribe or just spent many years assigned to Israel) from the American Embassy got together at the home of our Deputy Chief of Mission (2nd in command to the Ambassador) for the Seder dinner. For those who don’t know much about Judaism, you may have heard of the Last Supper. That little dinner soiree of Jesus and his pals (and Judas) (and Mel Brooks as the waiter if you worship History of the World Part 1 like I do) was a Seder: the Passover religious service/dinner party. Essentially, we Jews get together to retell the story of how our ancestors escaped from Egypt thanks to Moses and his sea-parting super powers, during which tale we drink a lot of wine and then eat stuff on weird crackers.
I was going to post a pic of the group, then I remembered that we’re not supposed to do that without everyone’s permission due to security policies. You’ll just have to content yourselves with a pic of me and my lovely bride.
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Our delicious dinner spread included a Seder plate for each person rather than one big one at the center. The Seder plate has a variety of items that represent elements of the story of the Exodus from Egypt. You’ve got the green vegetable (usually celery or lettuce) to represent Spring (I have no idea what they do in the Southern hemisphere where this holiday is celebrated when it’s not Spring) while the salt water you dip it in represents the tears our ancestors cried as slaves. The bitter herb (horseradish) is for the bitterness of slavery while the egg is both a symbol of mourning from long ago and a symbol of rebirth.
Then there’s the mixture of apples, wine and nuts that stands in for the mortar used to build the pyramids and the matzoh. The matzoh isn’t just a big flat cracker, it’s a reminder of the fact that when our ancestors fled, they didn’t have time to let the bread rise. If you look at the pic to the right, you’ll see the homemade matzoh from the DCM’s cook. It’s the best matzoh I’ve ever had! If you’re keeping Passover and avoiding leavened break this week, I highly recommend finding a recipe online and making your own. Yum!
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I don’t have a photo of the matzoh ball soup or the gifelte fish, but I have to say that homemade gifelte fish is another tasty treat. Eating the stuff out of the jar is something that if you do it, it’s grudgingly and only once a year. At least, that’s my experience. The fish our host’s cook made has been a delectable addition to the list of leftovers this year.
Below are the main courses. There’s chicken with tzimmes (a mixture of sweet potatoes and dried fruits roasted with the meat), roasted lamb (not pictured), potatoes, spinach pie, and apple-matzoh kugel.
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Mmmmm… homemade matzoh….
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For dessert, we had Lisa’s Passover Pecan Bars, which are exactly what they sound like only made with matzoh meal instead pastry crust. She also make the flourless chocolate cake dubbed “Jace’s Cake” many years ago when it became the favorite of one of our friends in Los Angeles with whom we regularly shared Seder.
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And finally, one of our friends from the embassy make Chocolate Crispy Cookies! You may recognize these as the crispy-on-the-outside/gooey-on-the-inside cookies available at Central Market stores all over Texas. Lisa searched for this recipe for years before finally stumbling across an excellent one in the New York Times Jewish Cookbook. Our friend’s came out perfectly!
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As always, the Seder ended with the traditional prayer that next year we Jews might all be gathered together in the holy land, “Next year in Jerusalem!”
Only we know how long our tour will be, so for us, it’s “Next year in Uzbekistan!”

I Was a Diplomatic Housewife

Okay, I’ll admit it. That Algeria post is a monster. That really should have been about four different posts. From now on, I’ll endeavor to post shorter pieces with greater frequency.

That means you’ll have to wait to see photos from Halloween, Thansgiving, and an Uzbek wedding, as well as pics from our recent trips to Vienna and Prague. Instead, I’m going to hit you with my first time as a diplomatic spouse in an official entertaining capacity.

Last night we had a party for local press at our home. Normally this would be done at Lisa’s boss’ house, but we have a better space for entertaining, so we invited around 75 Uzbeks over to our place. My diplomatic spouse responsibilities began around 11:30 AM as I tidied up the place. At 1 PM, one of Lisa’s colleagues came by and dropped off all the food. She couldn’t stay because there was another press conference she needed to run, so it was up to me to cut up shishkabobed meat into chunks, remove skewers from samsas (savory stuffed pastries), and cut up a bunch of loaves of the local, round lepyoshka bread. I left the bread for last thinking that would be easy, but after the drive over in frigid air, I needed Wolverine’s adamantium claws to cut that stuff! (Next time I’m going to nuke each one for a few seconds before I get out the bread knife.) Later, a team from the embassy arrived with tables, plates, glasses and such. The set everything up and then Lisa and another colleague arrived to do the actual decorating. When 6 PM rolled around, we had a throng of reporters waiting outside the gate for security screening. Lisa and I opened the gate and it was like a teenager’s party from a movie, where everyone arrives all at once. I shouted out one of my favorite Bill Murray lines from Stripes “A surprise party? For me? You guys!” It probably would’ve landed better if more of the reporters had seen Stripes. spoke English. Or, y’know, spoke English.

Here’s a shot from before the crowd flooded in. I wonder what they thought about the video game plaques and my comic book covers hanging from the wall.

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When I hear stories about diplomats’ wives entertaining at their homes, I get a distinct image in my head of what that looks like. Sorry to disappoint, but I wasn’t wearing a 1960s cocktail dress with my hair up in a beehive. I don’t have any pics of myself at the party, so you’re just going to have to take my word for it.

I do, however, have this photo of the official backdrop from the embassy, right next to my toy display case full of battling action figures.

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I can’t show pictures of the crowd since the embassy would have to get permission from each individual, but I can show the Ambassador making official remarks. I’m pretty sure this is the first time Galactus, devourer of worlds was involved in an official U.S. diplomatic event.

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Yes, fellow geeks, that middle shelf is indeed a recreation of John Byrne’s classic cover from Fantastic Four #243 with “Everyone versus Galactus!” The top shelf is Magneto and the X-Men fighting a giant Sentinel robot and the bottom shelf is a Lord of the Rings tableau.

After the press left, it was time to clean up. Those of you who favor budget cuts will be glad to know that there was no hired help to wash up afterwards. Even the Ambassador pitched in for the clean up effort. Thanks a lot, Congress!

To Algeria… and Beyond!

It’s been a while since my last entry. To some extent, I think I’ve had a mental block on blogging because I felt my post on the Algerian comics festival should be as big as the show was awesome. I’ve also been busy with writing and editing projects, not to mention my Russian studies. However, the biggest offender is probably Dragon Age: Origins (Cue gaming nerd alert). If you’ve never heard of it, Dragon Age is a video game by my former employer, Bioware. It’s a swords & magic role-playing game with an immersive storyline that can change in big ways depending on the choices you make in the game. It’s sort of a self-contained game of Dungeons & Dragons that you can play solo, with the computer controlling the personalities of your companion characters who fight by your side (and maybe betray you if you haven’t done enough stuff to make them steadfastly loyal). I started the game over a year ago, back when I was in Austin. I had to wait until all of my stuff got to Uzbekistan after being in storage the entire time I was in D.C. Now it’s here and most of my evenings after Lisa goes to bed have been consumed by dragon fire. Now that I’ve moved onto the Dragon Age: Awakeningsexpansion (in preparation for Dragon Age II – yes, I’m that far behind the franchise), I’m taking a break to finish my blogging.

Actually, that’s only partially true. The passage of time on my blog, like in the Doctor Who universe, is a wibbly-wobbly thing. I was actually finishing up my blog on Algiera while riding an overnight train back from a wedding near the Uzbekistan/Afghanistan border. That’ll be a future post, I promise.

Now, onto Algeria. While it’s important to have a plan in life, I think I need to officially give up on guessing what comes next. If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be living in Uzbekistan, I’d have thought you were crazier than Charlie Sheen hopped up on synthetic tigers blood (that would have been an extremely timely joke back when I started drafting this blog post)! As those who follow me on Twitter or Facebook may know, about a month and a half ago, I flew to Algiers for a comic book convention. Well, technically a “graphic novel” festival, but let’s not split hairs. It’s called FIBDA! which stands for: Festival International de la Bande Dessinee d’Alger (or the Algerian International Graphic Novel Festival).

For those who know as little about Algeria as I did before I found out I was going, here’s a brief tutorial: Algeria is at the very northern tip of Africa built on hillsides along the Mediterranean Sea, right across from France. Because the French occupied Algeria for many years, there’s a love of big, hardcover graphic novels much like in France. The country became stable relatively recently after many years of civil strife and warfare and is now rebuilding many industries, including the Arts.

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Moving to Tashkent was crazy enough, but I certainly never imagined the State Department would be flying me to Algiers to serve as a comic book diplomat – or, as one notable at the U.S. Embassy in Uzbekistan likes to call me – the “Arts Envoy.” It all started with a random link on the web. I was on a comic book news site when I noticed a picture of my Austin pal, comics author Matthew Sturges, the esteemed writer of graphic novels such as House of Mystery, Jack of Fables, and Doctor Who: a Fairytale Life, as well as the fantasy novels Midwinter and Office of Shadow. I clicked on the picture and watched a video interview where Matt talked about how he rediscovered comics as an adult, leading to a successful new career.

The video turned out to be part of a project started by comics and game writer Brandon Jerwa, author of (her comes the plug) many G.I. JOE comics, Battlestar Galactica comics, Highlander comics and more. Brandon recorded Matt and dozens of other comics professionals as part of his documentary on the business of comics: Untold Tales of the Comic Industry. At the time, Brandon was (it would turn out) just hours away from successfully raising money via kickstarter.com to fund the documentary. FYI, if you go to the website, you can still join me and hundreds of others with a donation to help defray the documentary’s additional costs.

In reading about Brandon and his project, I saw an article from a year earlier about how Brandon and a few other American comics creators went to FIBDA! in 2010 as official representatives of the U.S. State Department. I emailed Brandon and reintroduced myself (we met around ten years ago when I was an editor at Humanoids), asking him to tell me more about this State Department grant bringing comics creators to represent the U.S. at international comics festivals. My hope was that I might be able to do something similar in Central Asia or Russia, perhaps somewhere like the Moscow comics convention. I was shocked when Brandon asked me if I’d like to join him at the show.

The answer was, of course, a thousand times yes. To make things even better, Brandon was already bringing along Steve Lieber and John Layman, friends I’d enjoyed hanging out with at many American comics conventions over the years. What’s that? Did you ask where you might have heard their names before? Well, it just so happens I have another shameless plug for you!

Steve Lieber has illustrated countless comics characters including Superman, Batman, Hellboy and more. He’s also the artist of the incredible Arctic murder mystery/thriller graphic-novel-turned-movie Whiteout and the spelunking murder mystery/thriller Underground. The mighty John Layman is best known for his multiple award-winning comics series Chew (about a cannibal detective who gets clues by eating people – it’s a comedy) and the Godzilla: Gangsters & Goliaths series. Okay, enough with the plugs. If you buy comics, I hope you enjoy my friends’ books. Now back to the story.

There were no promises from Brandon, of course. We only had around fifteen workdays to get me approved by the State Department and the festival, secure plane tickets, and get me an Algerian travel visa. I might not be able to go at all. Still, Brandon figured he’d run it up the flagpole. It turns out that Brandon’s contact at the Algerian embassy was a friend from Lisa’s intro to the Foreign Service class (her A-100 class, for those in the know) with whom I’d played pub trivia at an Irish pub in Arlington during training in D.C. She was immediately on board and had an easy time getting the State Department’s approval given my body of work. I think it also helped that during my time at Humanoids I worked on many books and comics that were published in French, including my first published comic book story.

The fact that I already had a diplomatic passport was a huge bonus. Getting the visa for Algiers proved to be much easier than the five visits it took to the Special Issuance Agency in D.C. to get my Uzbek visa. Because this was official diplomatic travel, once I had filled out all of the grant application paperwork, the always-fabulous folks at the U.S. Embassy in Tashkent sent a driver with my diplomatic passport and paperwork over to the Algerian embassy in Tashkent and I got my visa in record time. With that in hand, the U.S. embassy in Algiers booked my flights and suddenly I was heading to Africa!

This being my first time traveling out of Tashkent, I’ll give you a little more detail on how that went then might give otherwise. Feel free to skip to the festival if you aren’t interested in the intricacies of travel from my difficult to reach post.

One of the reasons that Tashkent is considered a hardship post is because it’s difficult to get flights in and out of the country. On this occasion, I was flying from Tashkent to Prague to Paris to Algiers. Because this trip was part of a State Department grant, I was traveling on diplomatic orders. That meant I was able to make use of a driver/expediter from the embassy and my diplomatic passport, which, I soon learned, makes all the difference in Uzbekistan. My expediter picked me up at my house in an embassy vehicle with diplomatic plates and drove me to airport. He went right past the line of cars waiting to enter the airport parking lot and waved at the policemen at the next gate over, pulling into the government/diplomatic parking right in front of the concourse. We then went through the VIP entrance (no red velvet rope or girls in miniskirts – it’s not thatkind of VIP entrance) and proceeded to the security check to get into the airport. In the states, there is no security to enter the ticketing area of the airport like there is in many other countries, so this was a bit of a surprise. I handed my expediter my diplomatic passport and he set my suitcase on the X-ray belt while I did the same with my backpack, then the security guards waved us through the metal detector, though I still had all my stuff in my pockets. It beeped for both of us but nobody cared thanks to my magic passport. Note that my backpack contained 1) a full Camelback bottle full of water, 2) my iPad, and 3) my ziploc full of liquid containers. Any one of those would be a problem in the states’ security, but either they only want to look for bombs or they waved us through because of my VIP status (I’ve since come to learn that this is often the case at the entry to the airport in many countries and may have had nothing to do with my dip passport. They don’t care about what’s in your pockets, only what’s in your bag).

Inside the airport, there was a large press of people in front of the ticket counters in what would best be described as amorphous almost-lines. Looking around, I began to worry about my luggage having unprotected sex. That is, many folks, presumably Uzbeks, had wrapped their luggage entirely in saran wrap. I wondered if they knew something I didn’t. If my suitcase met a nice duffel bag in transit, might it end up needing a shot of penicillin once we landed in Algiers?

We waited twenty minutes while a man in a red shirt tried to check in, presumably doing so for a group. As we waited, the lines slowly grew even less defined as people pushed forward to be next. Seeing this, my expediter took my passport and itinerary to the front while the man in the red shirt was still absorbing the ticket agent’s attention. Clearly the diplomatic passport has power here, because the ticket agent quickly printed up my tickets and checked my bag all the way through to Algiers. I felt bad about cutting the line but my expediter said that’s the way things work. When he saw everyone else looking to jam themselves to the front, he did the same thing.

Once we had my tickets, we went to the line for customs. More accurately, we walked right to the front of the line. Clearly that’s just the way things work here because when he saw my dip passport, the agent took my customs form (which my expediter had filled out while I waited in the first line). At the customs window they took my passport for a minute and then I shook my expediter’s hand, thanked him for his help and was on my way. I stepped through the customs gate, now on my own.

In the airport proper, I headed towards my gate. I discovered another security check and waited in line behind a family whose little girl had a pirated Mickey Mouse. No, not Mickey dressed as a pirate, but an unofficial Mickey with brown hair and a brown nose, rather than black. This security line scanned both my bags, still with all my liquids and iPad in the bag. I did have to take off my shoes and empty my pockets this time.

Inside the second stage of security, I walked down the long corridor, passing the young people who were hanging out in the glass smoking box with its door open, clearly missing the point of the enclosed box. There was no food past security, only duty free stores and a bar serving beverages, candy and cigarettes. I then waited at the gate until it was time to board the shuttle bus that would take us out onto the Tarmac where our plane awaited. I noticed a number of Israeli passports and people reading Hebrew books, so I guess Prague (my first destination) is a hub for travel to Israel, though I saw on the arrivals/departures board that there is a direct flight to Tel Aviv from Tashkent. The shuttle bus arrived and I followed advice you may remember from a previous post, waiting until I was the last one on so that I would be the first off and onto the plane.

The flight on Czech Air was quite nice, with a fair amount of legroom. A big man sat next to me in the middle seat and by dint of his size, automatically hogged the armrest. However, he then got a chance to sit with friends and moved, leaving an empty seat, always a bonus! Too bad Czech Air and Lufthansa are pulling out of Uzbekistan. It’s going to make getting flights that much more difficult.

During the flight, I went to ask one of the flight attendants about the Prague airport. I had only 55 minutes to make my connection to Paris and reading the airport’s website, it looked like getting from terminal 1 to terminal 2 required exiting the airport to get a shuttle. She assured me that I wouldn’t need to exit, though I would need to go through passport control and a security screening. Though we’d taken off 40 minutes late, she said we’d be landing only 5 minutes late and that I should have enough time. This took a lot of weight off my mind. She then offered me tea, coffee, water… any beverage, asking me a few times to be sure I wasn’t declining out of politeness. It was refreshing to speak with a flight attendant who was so friendly and clearly interested in doing whatever she could to make the flight more pleasant. In fact, when she came through with our last round of beverages, she assured me we were still only 5 minutes late and again encouraged me to drink something more than the water I requested. Maybe she was a Jewish mom or something.

As soon as we landed in Prague, I leapt up to deplane as quickly as possible. I zipped easily to first class where a different flight attendant stopped me. Apparently first class gets to deplane first, no matter what. I rushed to the ramp, asking people who were spread out across the jetway and plodding along (also known as “human cholesterol”) to excuse me so that I could run by… only to discover that the jetway took a hard right to stairs down to where a shuttle waited to take me and all the slowpokes to the airport proper. I wanted to be this guy:

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But instead I was his lamest villain – The Turtle: Slowest Man Alive

 

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Once in the terminal, I found my flight on the board and ran for the gate. I quickly discovered I would not have to leave the building after all. The two terminals were connected. I did have to go through customs control and security, but there were no lines at either one, so I made it to my gate with fifteen minutes to spare before boarding. That was just enough time to make use of the fifteen minutes of free wifi at the airport so I could check in with Lisa. My flight to Paris was short and sweet. The baby across the aisle cried some, but was extremely cute and expressive the rest of the flight, so I happily helped his mother play the “pick up the binky” game the few times he tossed his toy beneath my seat.

In Paris, I stopped at one of the PAUL bakery kiosks for a delicious apple tart from my namesake. In France, even the airport pastries are delicious. This one had a crunchy, flaky edge that managed to be chewy and crunchy at the same time due to the caramelized sugar infusing it. The center was sweet and juicy. Once near my gate, I found a cafe where I could charge my iPad and use another fifteen minutes of free wifi. I discovered Steve Lieber was on my Paris to Algiers flight and in the airport. He was no longer online, so after I finished my apricot and pistachio pastry (yes, my second dessert in an hour -that’s just how I roll), I went off in search of Steve at our gate.

Sure enough, Steve was there, illustrating thumbnails (little tiny sketches) of comic book page layouts in the margins of a script. We chatted while waiting for our plane, and I quickly realized that Steve had not heard about my recent move to Uzbekistan. Once he found out, I was surprised when he asked me if I speak Russian in Russian! Turns out he, like Lisa, got into a better high school by joining the language program for Russian. Soon enough we were on the plane to Algiers, ready to really start our foreign adventure!

We arrived at our hotel…

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…we were wary of the open elevator with so many of its workings visible to the naked eye. It turned out we were right to be concerned since Brandon got stuck between floors while rushing to catch his outbound plane after the festival was done.

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Steve and I had dinner in the hotel’s restaurant, ordering off the menu. I had a decent dish of chicken with mustard sauce. Little did I know it was the best meal I’d have in the hotel all week. The next morning I headed downstairs for breakfast, hoping for a buffet of some local food. It turned out the hotel’s breakfast would consist of the same thing every day: three varieties of croissants, hard-boiled eggs, and, if you could get the waiters to go get it, some yogurt. That first morning, Steve and I were joined by Layman and international creators who would become our friends before the week was out. After breakfast we hung out in the hotel’s courtyard and enjoyed the perfect weather then took a walk to explore the area near the hotel while waiting for the festival to get officially underway.

Here I am outside an apparently famous post office near our hotel.

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The inside of the post office is just gorgeous… as are my fellow comics creators.

From the left: French artist Rimka, John Layman, Steve Lieber, and Spain’s “AJA” – Alberto Jimenez Alburquerque.

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We also saw this monument to when the Mighty Layman conquered Algeria centuries ago.

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In some ways, Algeria reminded me a lot of Uzbekistan with both places having Persian influences here and there. While the Uzbeks had much better trash collection and more modern buildings, both countries have tons of policemen on the streets. Unlike in Uzbekistan, the Algerian police sported machine guns, but I’m not sure if that should make me feel safer or not.

The festival itself was in a prestigious location at the top of a high hill overlooking the city, right at the base of the famous Monument of the Martyrs: a monument to the citizens who died freeing the country from French occupation.

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Admission to the festival was free, a celebration of the Arts open to everyone. About half of the tents were gallery tents where comics art was displayed as if were hanging in a museum. Comics art doesn’t get that kind of respect at any American comics convention I’ve ever seen.

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The show got started off with the usual fanfare, just like you see every year at San Diego Comic Con…

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The bulk of my time at the show was spent hanging out with comics creators from Europe, Africa, and elsewhere, plus my friends from the states. I was already friends with John and Steve, but I got along famously with Brandon. Much of the interplay between us consisted of escalating cut downs and rude comments at each others’ expense. I felt right at home. We all talked comics with this international crowd thanks to help from various translators either from embassy or other multilingual creators. I met talented folks like AJA from Spain and Joumana Medlej from Lebanon and NATIVE from… well… Africa by way of New York and now Paris. Truly, there were too many talented folks to mention here, but if you read French, you can learn more at FIBDA’s website: FIBDA! You can also check out Joumana’s Lebanese super hero webcomic here:

Malaak: Angel of Peace

 

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One tradition at comics conventions is to carry a sketch book so that artists can do drawings for you while everyone is hanging out. I have a mythology themed sketch book full of gorgeous drawings from various shows, but I accidentally left it at home. However, I got plenty of sketches from the creators once I was able to find a story with a notebook. I gave the book to Steve Lieber at the airport to get a sketch from him and will post the sketches once Steve gets my sketch book back to me.

Speaking of Steve Lieber, he’s one of the most talented and personable comics professionals you’ll ever meet and a hell of a nice guy, not to mention hilarious. Must of Steve’s time was spent holding forth on art for other professionals and for locals. Steve talked technique and business. In fact, any aspiring pros out there (and some already in the biz) could benefit from reading his book The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Creating a Graphic Novel done in conjunction with comics author Nat Gertler. It’s an excellent reference for those looking to break into the business of comics.

Here’s a pic of Steve holding forth while he does a sketch of a character from Whiteout. When asked why he always draws the same woman, Steve answered, “Because she holds still for me.”

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Mind you, the government didn’t just spend your tax dollars to send us to Algeria on vacation. We did a lot of press, from print to radio to television interviews, talking about American comics and showing our country’s support for improving international relations through a more unusual kind of diplomacy. We also taught kids about comics at an Algerian elementary school one day and at a center for underprivileged youth the next. Steve Lieber was the real star here, showing them drawing tips that turned every kid in the class into a budding cartoonist. Mind you, while most of the kids know about characters like Spider-Man and Batman from the movies (and even had things like Spidey pencil cases) many of them had never even heard of, much less read, a comic book. Here’s pics of us teaching plus the characters Steven drew as well as some art from the kids.

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In one story idea, the kids made Brandon the bad guy. Here he is breathing fire on the hero’s cloud home. Also pictured: after I showed the kiddos how to use a simple square to draw a Hulk head (about the best I can do), one boy created the heroic monster knowns as Five Heads. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.

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We also had several opportunities to represent the U.S. to important Algerian officials. This was diplomatic representation at its best, with the Algerians asking us to help them rebuild the Arts in their country and us telling them what we’d been doing on this trip to help fulfill that mission. Brandon gave a particularly excellent response to one official, telling them how one of the school teachers planned to incorporate elements from Steve Lieber’s art presentation into their program. Brandon deserves special recognition for that one. We writers need constant validation, so I’m sure he’ll appreciate a little pat on the back.

While the festival and companionship couldn’t have been better, I’m sorry to report that the food at our hotel left a lot to be desired. The hotel served our group dinner, but it was basically the same food every night: some kind of oily soup with mystery meat, cous cous with sheep meat, and fruit for dessert. The fruit part was nice and I always took some to have with my breakfast the next day. However, we did have a delicious meal when we went out to lunch with embassy folks. It was a welcome change of pace.

The restaurant had an underground, cavelike entrance. Here you can see Steve and Brandon enjoying the soup and couscous dishes.

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Unfortunately, when we went to an exclusive party that night at a fancy hotel, we had an identical meal for dinner. Both meals included a variation on the soup and couscous with meat, just of a higher quality. It turns out the fancy hotel is actually a building reserved specifically for housing and greeting special guests of the government. We didn’t get an overnight stay, but the meal was certainly better than at our hotel.

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We also got to spend some time playing tourist. We visited Bastion 23, a palace fortress at the edge of the Kasbah. The building features open air courtyards and views of the Mediterranean from the tiered rooftops designed so that defenders could fall back from one to the next, always maintaining the high ground.

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I’ve heard that cannons can also help with defense.

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Fires in the kitchen vented through the ceiling so that they could heat the roman baths on the higher floors.

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Many ceilings were intricately painted and the top of the open air courtyards are as gorgeous from the roof as from below.

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The surrounding neighborhood gives a hint of the streets and alleys of the Kasbah.

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Next up was a trip to the Cathédrale Notre-Dame d’Afrique, commanding an astonishing view of the city of Algiers.

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By the time we arrived, the cathedral was closed. Still, it’s a gorgeous buidling and worth seeing.

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It was also fun to see the four different football (soccer to you Americans) games that had sprung up around the edifice. I’ve never given much thought to why football is so popular around the world, but here it finally hit me. All you need is a ball and some stuff to mark off your goal posts and you’re good to go! That is, so long as you don’t kick the ball off the cliffside!

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On the final day of the show, it was time to talk super heroes! The panel kicked off with a presentaion on super heroes created by countries all over the globe the segued to a Q&A session complete with translators to help us understand the questions and to translate our answers to the audience. It was an interesting panel because the questions were not like those at American comics conventions. At an American show, one might expect to expound on the upcoming events in the life of the Spider-Man. Here, people asked questions like, “When you write G.I. JOE, don’t you worry that you’re validating an international culture that idolizes war?”

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At the festival’s final bash at L’Auberge du Moulin, we definitely got to eat something unique: Meshwee. After my previous meals, I was trepedatious. When I heard that Meshwee, which means, basically, “grilled food,” consists of a sheep grilled with a rabbit and frogs with pasta in place of the sheep’s entrails, I was even more concerned. Then I found out that we were supposed to eat the meat by tearing it off the carcass with our hands. Anyone who’s been a professional at a comics convention knows that by the end of a show one has frequently contracted “con crud” of some kind due to late nights without sleep and shaking the germ-ridden hands of dozens and dozens and friends and fans. I was not looking forward to eating food touched by a hundred of those hands. I needn’t have feared. The meat was absolutely delicious! It was hot to the touch, moist, and practically melted on the tongue. In fact, it reminded me of some of the best brisket to be had back in Austin.

Here’s the Meshwee, before and after (vegetarians beware):

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One of the highlights of the party was talking with a beautiful young lesbian. Not just because she was a beautiful woman who shared my appreciation of beautiful women, but because her sexual orientation is banned in her home country. It takes a special kind of bravery to live in a place where one could be jailed or worse based one’s sexuality, but she claims no desire to move from the place she calls home. She’s young now, but I fear for her as the years go by and pressure to marry a man mounts. I wish her the very best!

After the show, it was time to head back to Tashkent. By the way, my travel from Tashkent to Algiers wasn’t even the longest. Steve’s flights from Portland to Los Angeles to Paris to Algiers took 24 hours. John had layovers so long that he was able to go out for meals with a comics shop owner in Chicago and his Chew publisher in Paris (not that I have much sympathy there). Brandon won’t want to be outdone and I’m sure he has a tale of how he had to sit on the wing or something. Well, flash forward to the end of our trip where we discovered at the airport that Steve’s return ticket was actually purchased for the wrong day! Undaunted by this turn of events, Steve moved his flight to Paris up by a day then stayed overnight with our new friend from the show, Native.

By the way, I think any American who wants to gripe about security pat downs in U.S. airports should be required to travel to Algiers for perspective. Here’s what I had to do to reach my plane on the way out of Algiers:

1. Go through a metal detector and put my bags through the X-ray machine, plus get a pat down just to enter airport.

2. Show my passport and itinerary to get in line for my ticket and to check my bags.

3. Show my passport again to get my ticket.

4. Show my passport and ticket to enter passport control.

5. Fill out the customs form and show my passport and ticket to the customs agent at the window.

6. After the customs window, go through the main security check by showing my passport and ticket, getting my bag X-rayed, emptying my pockets to go through metal detector, and getting another pat down.

7. Just past customs, I had to show my passport and ticket to proceed to the gate. The woman here asked if I had any dinar (Algerian money). Apparently it is illegal to take it out of the country over a certain amount. However, you can’t exchange dinar for dollars or euros at the airport (I tried). I showed her my 2,500 dinar (around 20 American dollars) and she let me keep it. She totally could have had some extra cash if she’d taken it, as it is just monopoly money to me at this point. Perhaps I will come back next year for FIBDA, in which case it will be useful to have cash in hand. If not, I guess I will just mail it to one of my friends in Algiers.

8. At the gate, I had to show my passport and ticket to enter the security corridor to the jetway.

9. At the entrance to the jetway, I had to show my ticket and passport to a security guard who tore my ticket and kept half of it.

10. I entered the jetway and waited in a security line. At the end of the line, I gave a guard my bag to open and search. Then I got another pat down.

11. Finally, I was able to get on plane. I was glad the flight attendant’s didn’t insist on patting me down before using the restroom.

Overall, though there were a few travel hassles and some unimpressive food at the hotel, the show was great fun and I had an incredible time. It was truly incredible to talk comics with people from all over the world. No matter how little we had in common, we all shared a love for the glorious meidum of comics! With luck, I’ll even be collaborating with some of the folks I met at the show.

Here’s a few more pics from the show:

Hanging with my A-100 friend!

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Art by an Algerian fan who’s read even more DC Universe books than I have!

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The retail tent was full of graphic novels both foreign and domestic, all in French!

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Boy do I hope this isn’t my and Lisa’s next post!!!

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Not your usual comic con crowd.

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And finally, one of the best parts of the trip came when I opened the gate in front of my house in Tashkent and walked into the courtyard. That was when I discovered that I really felt like I was coming home. It was nice to know that, after just 8 weeks, Tashkent is absolutely my home.

Everything is New Again

I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to my new lifestyle. Not only is there a whole city, country, region to explore, but there doesn’t seem to be any kind of routine. Maybe in a year or so, going to embassy events and such will be old hat. Probably it will be. For now, however, it’s all brand new and exciting.

 

A few weeks ago, I attended my first official social function at the embassy. It was no big deal for the locals, just another Friday happy hour at the Marine House. For me, it was as new as the relaunched DC Universe. By that I mean even the familiar things were a little bit different. Nobody was wearing tights nor were Batman and Catwoman going at it.

 

The Marine House is the building on embassy grounds where the men from the Marine security detachment live. The front room is an open social hall with a pool table, foozball table, TV and gaming console, plus a fully-stocked bar. I don’t know how stocked the bar is on a day-to-day basis. I imagine the booze is locked up most of the time. However, when they open the bar for Friday happy hour, there’s a wide variety of alcohol, wine, and even a handful of Russian beers on tap. Proceeds from the bar (and from the pizza the Marines’ cook makes for happy hour) go towards the Marine Ball fund to make that annual, formal event one of the biggest social engagements of the year.

 

When I heard a cowbell ringing, I spun around in search of Christopher Walken (if you didn’t get that joke, search YouTube for “Christopher Walken” +”SNL”+ +”More Cowbell.” You can thank me later).  It turns out there’s a big wheel on the wall ala Wheel of Fortune. You ring the bell and spin the wheel, putting your fate in the hands of the party gods. If the wheel lands on “Free Drink” then the gods have smiled on you. However, you may end up buying the bartender a drink, paying double for your next drink, or drinking a beer (mandatory) and buying one for a friend as well.

 

After the party had gotten off to a strong start, the ambassador arrived. Ambassador Krol is a warm, friendly guy and is very good at making everyone feel important. In D&D terms, he’s got at least an 18 Diplomacy. The room quieted down as Ambassador Krol first thanked all the Foreign Service Nationals in whose honor the happy hour was being thrown. FSNs are the local staff who stay in their jobs long after the American officers move to their next assignement (every two or three years). The FSNs provide knowledge, continuity, and local contacts to the American embassy staff and are an invaluable part of the mission. The ambassador then moved on to thank one of the American officers as he prepares to for his next post. The outgoing officer is one of the embassy favorites and I can see why. He’s a super nice guy who’s good at his job and extremely personable. The local staff thanked him for his service with an Uzbeki dagger (a beautiful, curved blade of polished steel that would fit right in on the set of Game of Thrones) and hand-made traditional garb. Here’s a photo with the officer’s face blurred out for security purposes since I haven’t had a chance to get his permission to post the picture. As you can see, he’s wearing the local hat, robe, and kerchief belt with his new knife at his side. The back of the robe was specially embroidered with the name of the team for which he played college basketball.

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The ambassador also thanked the embassy’s football (soccer) teams (one is an FSN team and the other is a team of American officers) and congratulated the FSN security team on their second place win in the local embassy community’s recent football tournament. Apparently they were beaten out by their arch-rivals, the FSN security team from the Israeli embassy in Tashkent.

 

The day after our first Friday happy hour, Lisa and I went on an excursion to explore our new city. We decided to take the metro (my first time, Lisa’s second) to a restaurant for lunch, then to one of the city’s many bazaars so we could compare it to our neighborhood bazaar.

 

First, a word on the streets in Tashkent. Should you ever visit this fine city, do be careful to watch your step. The gutters alongside the road are deep fissures cut out of the concrete. Long ago, i’ve heard, these gutters were covered by metal grates. However, over the years the grates have mostly been taken and sold as scrap metal. As a result, you need to be ready to hop over these mini-chasms at any time. Woe unto you’re ever accidentally zapped by Rick Moranis’ shrink ray. You’ll never make it across the street!!

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Also, street construction isn’t always obvious or marked. In the U.S., I’d expect a few orange cones around this hole carved into the road. Here’s it’s just business as usual.

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That said, don’t think for a minute that all the infrastructure in Tashkent is neglected. The metro systems in New York and Washington DC could learn a lot from Tashkent’s gorgeous stations. Though it’s illegal to take pictures of the metro for security reasons, the Internet has plenty of photos available. I’m using those here since I need to save up my diplomatic immunity for whenever I  go up against Mel Gibson and Danny Glover.

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As you can see, the metro stations are filled with stunning mosiacs and marble surfaces. The metro cars, while not particularly fancy, are clean and comfortable. I don’t know what they’re like at rush hour, but on a weekend afternoon they were never full and we always had a seat.

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Lunch was at Tahkent’s Irish pub, eponymously named “The Irish Pub.” This is a favorite hang out for Westerners and expats in Tashkent. One of its chief draws for us that day was the free wifi since Internet at our house was down. Turns out we’d used all of our daytime bandwidth for the month. We’ve since hooked up an unlimited plan via DSL and while it’s too slow for streaming, it’s excellent for day to day usage and lets me download and upload art pages without a problem. I even use it to Skype with family, for business meetings, and to play D&D with my friends in Austin!

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While the menu items in The Irish Pub are not exactly what you’d get at an Irish pub in the U.S., they’re not that much different. There’s the usual pub food like fish & chips as well as generic Western dishes like fajitas or a ham & cheese sandwich. I tried the steak with mushroom sauce and found it wonderfully tasty. I washed it down with a Bamburg (Russian beer) on tap. Even if the food is not 100% authentic (mind you, I’m comparing it to American Irish pub fare which is, I imagine, already one step removed from actual pubs in Ireland), the clientele is exactly what you’d expect in any good Irish pub. Here’s a group of fans bellying up to the bar to watch the latest football match.

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Next came the bazaar. Like the others I’ve visited in Tashkent, the bazaar is a large, open air market much like the farmers markets in America. Here they are generally covered in some fashion, protecting shoppers and retailers alike from the harsh, Uzbeki sun. At the bazaar, one can find a wide variety of fresh fruits and veggies. Imported items like bananas are relatively expensive but most are comparable or less costly than in the U.S. Of course, you have to wash them with a bleach solution to be safe due to use of traditional farming methods here (i.e. lots of fertilzer on the crops), but they are fresh and delicious.

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Here you can see the green, semi-transparent roof that spreads over the bazaar. I should also mention that people will call out to you to sample their wares as you pass by, often saying “brother” or “sister” (in Russian) to get your attention.

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There’s also a wide variety of grains and beans available in the bazaars. In this one, we were excited to find black beans for the first time in Tashkent. Those will be gracing our dinner table soon.

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One of the coolest features in this bazaar is a row of vendors selling honey. The honey is ladled into glass jars from these big, metal drums, each one featuring a label that indicates the region and flowers of the honey’s origin. This honey is pricier than a generic bottle one might find in an American grocery store, but less expensive than a similar artisan honey one would get at an upscale grocery store like Whole Foods or Central Market. The vendors also give tastes of their products. You can definitely taste the difference between one honey and another!

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In search of something (besides raw honey) to sate my ever-ravenous sweet tooth, we popped into one of the tiny shops flanking the bazaar. This one was full of cookies in all varieties. They sell cookies in this fashion at many bazaars and it’s fun to pick out different ones. I took home a kilo of tea cookies. They lasted me a week, which tells me I really need to cut down on my cookie consumption.

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Laden with groceries and on our way back to the metro, we passed this aptly named, upscale fashion store. It’s nice to see a bit of blunt honesty on the part of retailers for change!

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Remember that new, unlimited Internet plan I mentioned a few paragraphs back? For some reason, we just couldn’t get it to play nice with our Apple Airport wifi device. After asking around the embassy, we got a recommendation from one of the staff drivers, a local FSN, on the specific wifi device one of our fellow diplomats is using for the same Internet service. Armed with a brand name and serial number, I headed to the local electronics bazaar with my driver, Victor. Take a look at the  two photos below and you’ll see a strip mall lining either side of a street, full of shops with brand names blazoned over each small storefront. In the states, you’d expect that the store with the Samsung sign over it is a store selling Samsung products while the LG store sells only LG. I was excited to spot even an Apple logo over one shop.

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However, here in Tashkent, things are a little bit different. The logos indicate that you can probably find those kinds of products here, but each store sells a variety of items, all from different retailers. The logos over the doors are irrelevant to the contents of the shop. Most stores had a cell phone counter near the front and then a variety of different products. You might have to go into several storefronts, but eventually you could find just about any electronic device you wanted, from laptops to routers to televisions to hairdryers or kitchen appliances.

 

After searching four or five shops, Victor and I found one with my specific router in stock. I let Victor do the talking since my Russian isn’t game ready yet when it comes to buying electronics. The guy at the counter across from the one with the router was able to tell us the price (114,000 soum, which is around $65 U.S.) . However, he wasn’t able to sell us the router. The guy who could sell it was out at lunch. Obviously, in the states, when a store is open, you can generally buy the goods there. You don’t have to wait for someone to finish their meal. I don’t know why this guy knew the price but couldn’t make a sale. My guess is that each counter was operated independently, kind of like when you want to buy comics in artists’ alley at a comic book convention and the person at one table might have nothing to do with their neighbor.

 

Victor and I moved on. Ten stores later, we found another router. This one was more expensive and the salesman was out to lunch as well. We went another five or six shops down (to the end of the shops) and found a third router. This one was even more expensive at 176,000 soum (over $100). It had been a while now, so we walked back to the first shop where we’d found the device and the retailer was back from lunch. We bought it and considered it a bargain. I later discovered that I could have bought the same device on Amazon for around $45 – $50. However, then we would have been without wireless for 3 to 4 weeks. It was easily worth the additional $20 to have wifi now, since my iPad and Lisa’s Nook were far less useful without it.

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On that same day, I went with Victor to a bookstore that he thought might carry American comic books in Russian. I figure learning Russian would be more fun with an issue of Spider-Man or the like. Though the store did not have any comics, they did have a Sci-Fi/Fantasy section. The cover for this one jumped out at me since it features a familiar scene from a book I’d just finished a few days earlier. Sure enough, I recognized the author’s name as George Martin. I couldn’t translate the title since I don’t have the vocubulary, but Victor confirmed for me that it says, A Feast For Crows. I didn’t buy the book, as something with the complexity and length of a George R.R. Martin book is not the ideal choice for cutting my teeth in Russian. However, hopefully after two years I’ll be capable of reading this or its like! Now to do some writing work so that i can take a lunch break and finish reading A Dance of Dragons!

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First Impressions

I’m now at the 2 and 1/2 week mark here in my new home but it feels like it’s been at least a month. In some ways I feel like I’ve gotten used to being here, in other ways I’m a total stranger in a strange land. I’d planned for my next post to relate our embassy-sponsored tour of the ancient Silk Road city of Samarkand. Unfortunately, I’ve been held up by my lack of a camera, which I packed in the suitcase I shipped. I took a ton of photos on my Sprint cell phone, but without Sprint service, I can only upload the photos via wifi. That means lots of large files uploading and downloading. Since our current Internet is a typical Uzbek plan where you pay based on the amount of data you use, I’ve been reticent to use that bandwidth until our unlimited bandwidth plan is active. Unfortunately, getting that set up has not gone quickly. Hopefully it will be up and running in a few days.

In the meantime, I figured I’d share my first impressions of my new city. In some ways, Tashkent reminds me of cities in Israel. Some buildings are brand new while others are ancient. Much of the infrastructure seems to have been placed without any plan, sprouting up wherever it made sense without civil engineering or building codes. Lots of buildings are abandoned and crumbling, while others are well-kept and thriving. Many of the streets are in poor repair and the sidewalks are even worse, if they exist at all. Traffic is also… agressive compared to the U.S. If I get medivaced from post, it will surely be from falling in an open manhole, getting hit by a car, or after a car accident.

Here’s what I’ve observed regarding Tashkent traffic. As far as I can tell, the lanes drawn on the road are more guidelines than rules. I’ve seen four or five lanes of cars on roads lined with three lanes. Some of the cars are smaller than in the U.S., but not so small that they should be sharing lanes. Drivers here just straddle those lanes, weaving in and out as they drive. Left turns are even less structured, with three or four cars stacking up side by side to wait for traffic to clear so they can turn. Just yesterday I saw a car waiting at the light to turn left and then another car drove around them to their left in order to go straight through the intersection. All in all, I’m very glad we hired Victor to drive us. I imagine I’ll give it a shot once our Forester gets here, but for now it’s nice to have someone who understands the rules of the road (or lack thereof) behind the wheel. Also, folks like to honk here. It’s normal to give a few beeps to let pedestrians know that you’re approaching, to tell cars that you’re passing, or to let someone know they’re an idiot for driving the wrong way on the street, even if they’re going slowly with their hazards on.

While traffic rules are more fluid than in the states, grocery stores seem fairly comparable. Though selection isn’t as broad and varied as in big supermarkets or fancy food stores like Whole Foods or Austin’s Central Market, most foods are available here. Some are very expensive, like American brand ice cream, but there are usually local versions that are more reasonable. In addition to grocery stores, there are tons of open air, covered markets where one can buy all kinds of fresh food and produce. For example, last weekend, Lisa and I went to the market and bought fresh, steamed corn on the cob, peaches, beets, cucumbers, tomatoes, bulk pasta, and a whole chicken. We have to soak the fruit and veggies in a bleach solution to kill any critters or pesticides, but once that’s done they are delicious! We also got an amazing ready-made tofu dish in which the tofu had been formed into springy noodles. There are also samsa shops all over the place, where one can get pastries filled with meat, potato, or pumkin for less than $2 each!

The markets also feature a wide variety of other products, such as clothing and personal care products. These are sold in individual shops no bigger than an office cubicle or two. At some point I’ll take a picture of the hilarious knock off toys I’ve seen, such as a set of poorly painted superhero action figures that included Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, and Hulk, all in one blister pack! While there have been a few Marvel/DC crossovers in the comics, it’ll be a cold day in hell before we see legit merchandise from Warner Bros. and Disney in the same packaging!

Last weekend, in addition to our visits to the grocery store and market, we also had dinner with some of our new friends from the embassy. We had three other couples join us at our house (the dogs loved having company – i.e. hands to pet them – come over) and went to a restaurant to celebrate Lisa’s birthday. This was my first restaurant experience in Tashkent and it was quite nice. Like many eating establishments, the tables were all set up in a wide courtyard, open to the lovely evening weather. There was also a playscape for the kids, prompting me to joke that it was like going to Phil’s Ice House/Amy’s Ice Cream around the corner from our Austin home. Lisa did all the ordering, as her Russian outstrips that of the rest of the group. Several of us ordered beer (Baltica) and I was surprised to find it was cold since chilled beverages are a rarity in Central Asia. We had a couple of different salads consisting of marinated peppers and something like cabbage, along with tomatoes or mushrooms. We also had a white sauce that was sort of like yogurt and quite tart and tasty. As always, there was bread. The local bread is served in a round, puffy, chewy loaf with a flat design stamped in the center. Theirs was delicious. Next came the shashlik, or shishkababob, with pork for most of us and chicken for Lisa, along with onions. It was all very tasty and didn’t make anyone sick, the mark of a fine restaurant in Tashkent! After dinner we all went back to our house for dessert. One of Lisa’s fellow diplomats baked a lemon cake for the occassion and it was absolutely fabulous: a moist, sweet, and tart yellow cake covered in a meringue-like frosting. We’ve been eating the leftovers for dessert all week!

I’ve continued making progress on the house. Right now we’re waiting for the embassy to come install AC in the big room at the front, which should be any day now. Once that’s in place, I can set up my desk and shelves and move all my books and comics out there. It will be nice to have such a large space for my office. Since I’ll have a ton of wall space, I may order a bunch of bulletin boards so that I can use index cards for plotting out big stories. I’ve always made due with computer versions but have longed for a big wall like I’ve had at some places of business. The big question is whether that space is too far for Internet since the modem and wifi have to be at a specific location in the main house. I can’t test it until we have the unlimited modem up and running. Still, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have a focused writing space without web access.

All in all, things are going very well. Our house is spacious and lovely, definitely not the norm at most Foreign Service posts. The dogs are happy and love their yard. The people in the embassy have been warm and inviting, the embassy itself is newer and an excellent facility, and we even have a driver/gardener/dog sitter plus a maid who comes a couple of days a week! I’m very glad that I decided to come earlier than planned. Most of the house is unpacked and I got to be with Lisa for her birthday. I’ve started one-on-one Russian classes at the embassy also started a new project which I’ll post about once announcements have been made. If my first impressions are any indication, we’re in for an excellent two years here on the far side of the world!

Home Sweet Home (Uzbekistan Edition) – Part Two

First impressions of Uzbekistan? Ready? Go!
I’ve mostly been in the house unpacking since I arrived. The embassy’s been closed or on reduced hours due to Uzbekistan officially celebrating the end of Ramadan and their Independence Day from Monday through Thursday. Apparently the government doesn’t announce official holidays until the last minute, presumably to reduce the possibility of security threats planned around big events.
Lisa’s had to go to the office and a few events while I was focused on our big move from temporary to permanent housing and getting things in order (though she was around plenty to help out). We did take a walk to the grocery store in our temp house neighborhood. On that walk, I determined that the infrastructure of Tashkent is somewhat questionable. I’d heard that the roads the president uses tend to be in good repair but other streets not so much. That was borne out by several open manholes (heh, heh, I said “manholes”) as well as what appeared to be a few random adults and their kids building their own speed bump. On the walk back from the market, the speed bumps on opposite sides of a neighborhood intersection had been marked as ‘drying’ by a few random, relatively flat objects place in the road like ‘caution’ signs for people to drive around. My guess is that the people building them were actually paid to do so by the city, they just didn’t have uniforms and brought their kids along for the fun. I was also interested to see gas pipes running along the tops of fences, then angling out or down in random zig zags, some angles so abrupt that the gas pipes went through holes drilled in concrete walls only to come out through a similar hole elsewhere. Their crazy angles kinda reminded me of Darkseid’s Omega Beam eye blasts, and if there’s a major earthquake here like in the 60s, they’ll probably cause just as much devastation.
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Yesterday, I finally got out of the house for a little excursion around the city with our driver, Victor. Yes, we have a driver. We also hired a maid to come twice a week since domestic help is so affordable here. Our car is still in transit from DC and Lisa needs to get to work, so Victor is a must. He’s a Russian gentlemen who worked for the previous tenants of our temp house. He’s great and speaks a little English (though he insists on using Russian as much as possible to help me practice, which is a good thing). Right now we ride in Victor’s car, of course, but once ours gets here in a few months, he’ll drive us in that one as much as possible given that Uzbek cars tend to lack air-conditioning. Fortunately, the weather here has been in the 80s and low 90s since I arrived, unseasonably cool for this time of year (and better than DC or Austin).
Our drive around the city consisted of a few landmarks, including one new, ultra-modern building that is not yet occupied and seems to have no defined purpose as of yet. We also drove by the center of town whereTimur Square celebrates regional hero Amir Timur, a 14th century conqueror and patron of the arts best known in the West as Tamerlane. It’s a gorgeous park and I look forward to visiting on foot soon.
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As I’ve mentioned previously, our temp house was enormous. I only spent two nights there, but with the four stories and many, many bedrooms as well as a three-room basement and three-room belfry plus a pool, it was way too big for our little household. The new house is much more comparable to our home in Austin, for those who know it. While I’ve been cautioned not to show too many details of the house and its surroundings due to standard security precautions, here’s a glimpse of the front of the main building. It’s pretty good-looking, right?
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Well, it is when you can see the whole thing.
The house features nice rooms with hardwood floors and high ceilings plus it comes with furniture to reduce the amount of goods shipped overseas. Here’s our main living room/dining area (sorry for the glare from the window in the dining room). The entire room is about twice as wide as what you see here, but that was the most panoramic view I could get with my iPad’s camera. My actual camera is in the suitcase I shipped in order to avoid excess baggage fees (which it turns out I wouldn’t have been charged. No, Lufthansa, I’m not still bitter. Not at all.)
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Those high ceilings I mentioned? Not only are they some fifteenish feet overhead, they all feature multi-layered designs. These swooping lines frame the entire ceiling around the chandeliers.
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Here’s another ceiling design. This one reminds me a bit of a mechanical gear, or a the outline of a spaceship.
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And while the chandeliers are a little “grandmotherly,” to my American eye, they are quite artfully crafted. This one in the bedroom is particularly interesting, with budding flower petals for light fixtures and stained glass in the shape of leaves and butterflies.
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I think the biggest downside we see so far is the relatively small kitchen. We like to cook a lot and Lisa is an exceptional chef. We have a ton of kitchen equipment on its way here and nowhere near enough storage space for it. However, we’re hoping we’ll be able to get the large, standing freezer (not in the photo) moved into one of our two storage rooms. That would free up some space for the Elfa shelving on its way from Austin (thank you, Container Store!).
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And let’s not forget the bathrooms. There are three full baths in the main house, plus one next to the sauna (yes, the sauna) and one by the laundry room (which is with a few other rooms presumably meant for live-in help which we can’t have due to security regulations). Yes, that’s five bathrooms for two people. When I broke the shower sprayer trying to adjust it on my first day here, I had plenty of back up showers available. BTW, note the dripping water design on the shower curtain. All the shower curtains have some kind of image like that printed on them. My favorite is the one covered with dolphins. I’ll have to post that some day.
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It’s worth noting that the bathrooms are actually very attractive for the most part. In the photo below you can see the accent tiles on the surround with intricate designs worked into them. That seems to be common here. It certainly beats the 1940s/1950s pink tile we’ve had in our last two homes in Austin and L.A. Sadly, the bathrooms lack any kind of cabinet storage. As you can see from the clear plastic bins in the photo, the Container Store has once again come to the rescue! For those who don’t know, I worked at the Container Store early in my time in Austin when I was just getting my writing career up to speed. It was a great place to work, which is why it’s been in Fortune’s “Top 10 Companies To Work For” for the last dozen years. I’ll admit that while the paycheck wasn’t huge, that employee discount on shelving and storage items is a benefit that is still paying dividends now, half a world away.
And finally, the office. From the photo it doesn’t look too small. However, there’s a wall pretty much on either side of that photo. Still, it should be a great space once I get my Elfa shelves with all my graphic novels as well as my glass and steel desk plus my glass display cabinet and action figures. I cannot wait to finally have a desk with a keyboard tray again so that I can write comfortably for long periods of time. And yes, my former comrades from Fizz Factor, that is the key art from our Hulk video game already gracing my workspace here in Tashkent. It will soon be joined by statues of characters I’ve written as well as many original pages of art by my co-creators and folks for whom I served as editor. I can’t wait to have my creative space back after nearly a year!
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And finally, by request, here are the Top 10 tips from my Tashkent-bound friend at Frankfurt airport (whom I mentioned in the previous post):
1. Don’t drink the water. It contains microbes that our Western bellies just can’t stomach.
2. Avoid fried foods in restaurants unless you know their ingredients. The Uzbeks often cook with low-quality cottonseed oil rather than Western vegetable oil. That can really push up your cholesterol and make you fat, fat, fat (a big concern for me, I know).
3. Be prepared to eat lots of meat. They make delicious shashlik here (shish-kabobs) and the national dish, “plov” is rice cooked in sheep fat with extra sheep fat on top.
4. Everyone smokes in public places. Deal with it.
5. If a cop stops you, don’t try to speak Russian or Uzbek. Just say, “Nyet Russkie. Do you speak English?” If they’re trying to shake you down for a bribe, they’ll likely move on to an easier target. The other advantage to hiding any knowledge of local languages is that you may be able to suss out their true intentions when they speak to their partners. If they’re legit, you should be able to figure that out and give them whatever cooperation is necessary. If they’re working an angle, you can eavesdrop on their conversation.
6. Uzbeks are very patient. Don’t be in a hurry and you won’t be frequently frustrated.
7. Carry your diplomatic credentials everywhere. The embassy should issue you some kind of special ID card which literally says something along the lines of “this person has greater rights than the average citizen.”
8. Learn some Russian and Uzbek. Once you get to the outskirts of Tashkent, nearly everyone speaks Uzbek and your Russian is as useless as English.
9. Pace yourself when being hosted as a guest. The Uzbeks are very kind, generous people and they will feed you until you pop. Have a little of each course and assume that another course is always waiting in the wings. You won’t be disappointed.
10. Have fun. It’s a great city with friendly people and it can be an excellent place to live for a diplomat!

Home Sweet Home (Uzbekistan Edition) – Part One

I’ve finally made it to Uzbekistan! It seems like forever since I told my friends and family that Lisa and I were leaving Austin for the Foreign Service. Now, nearly eleven months later, we’re reunited and have moved into the place we’ll call home for the next two years. We even have most of our stuff. As I write this entry, I’m sitting in the bed that until last night I hadn’t slept in for eleven months. The bed frame came with the house but the mattress is our much cherished Sleep Number bed. Because it’s all foam and inflatable air chambers and cushioning, it is small and light enough to ship with air freight so that it arrives sooner than a conventional mattress. Definitely a good choice for the Foreign Service.

But enough about our bed. Folks have been emailing and asking about my trip. I’ll post now about the trip and then post tomorrow (Tashkent time) regarding my first impression and our new house, complete with pictures.

I arrived at the Lufthansa counter on Friday and discovered that my luggage would be checked straight through to Tashkent. No need to pick it up in Frankfurt and recheck it. It would’ve been great if Lufthansa could have told me that over the phone instead of giving me a different answer every time I called. With no definitive answer I shipped one of my suitcases to avoid Uzbek Air’s exorbitant additional baggage fee (Lisa was caught unawares and had to pay around $650). That said, I was grateful to know that I wouldn’t have to deal with the headache of transferring my own bags in Frankfurt. For any future travelers to Tashkent, this was a United flight operated by Lufthansa connecting to Uzbek Air. Any variation (such as an actual United flight) may not have a baggage agreement.

I sat on the aisle beside a couple that was moving to Germany from the U.S. for the husband’s new job. He’s retired Army consulting for the U.S. Army in Germany. This is their fifth time posted in Germany and they’ll be there a while. Their dog was being loaded on the plane as cargo. (Our dogs are still in DC thanks to that pesky Hurricane Irene cancelling their flight.) They were perfect airplane neighbors: interesting to talk to but happy to do their own thing when you want to read or sleep.

Of course, no international flight is complete without a little adventure. Early on, the flight attendant poured wine for my neighbor and just kept on pouring, dousing my neighbor’s hand and half my butt and seat cushion. They swapped my seat cushion but I still had half an ass soaked in a robust and fruity merlot. The flight attendant apologized and offered me a voucher for dry cleaning, but somehow I don’t think that would do me much good in Uzbekistan. Hopefully my jeans are dark enough to survive.

As my tush was enjoyed Lufthansa’s best vintage of red, the guy in front of me put his seat back in my lap at meal time (despite an announcement to raise our seat backs for the meal). He was so far back, I could’ve done dental work on him. Fortunately, the top of his seat made an excellent book rest for my Kindle and he happily lifted it for me upon request once my actual food arrived and I needed my tray. He then kept his light on to read while I was trying to sleep. That annoyed me until I saw that he was reading “Game of Thrones.” I hadn’t been able to put that one down the first time I read it either (I’m currently rereading the series before reading book 5 for the first time. I’m on book 4 right now). I’ll admit that when I was still having a hard time sleeping in the wee hours, some dark corner of my soul imagined leaning forward and asking, “Have you gotten to the part where so-and-so dies yet?” However, I hate spoilers and could never do that to another person, especially when he was just trying to make the best of his own long flight.

We had been delayed taking off from Dulles, so we arrived in Frankfurt an hour late. I had a devil of a time figuring out my departing gate. The folks from Lufthansa tried to help me when I deplaned and told me which gate correspended to my flight number. However, they seemed confused enough by my mention of Uzbek Air, I decided to double check. I looked on the big digital board of flights and found the one they had mentioned. It was a Lufthansa flight bound for someplace else. I had to watch the board for a good fifteen mintues because it wasn’t big enough for all the flights and was constantly updating. Finally I caught a glimpse of my flight. It was listed as boarding at gate D 1-9. No, not 19. 1 — 9. Hmmm…

Ever the intrepid explorer, I set off for the D gates. I saw gates D 1-4 were through an additional layer of security so I skipped those. Turns out D 5-9 were through an additional layer of security as well. The line was short, so I waited and when I got to the front, I asked if I was in the right place. Nope, I needed gates 1-4. I quickly doubled back and confirmed with the security folks there that I was in the right place. Yes, in fact, my flight was leaving in two hours from gate D2. Feeling some level of success, I bought some yogurt and a croissant and waited for someone to staff the empty gate while I pushed away anxiety that my bags might actually be sitting in baggage claim in Frankfurt or that I wouldn’t be able to get a boarding pass here and would need to exit and return through two layers of security.

My anxiety was not mitigated by the fact that it was forty-five minutes before my flight and there still wasn’t anyone manning the gate. There were plenty of folks at the gate who looked like Uzbeks or Russians and I understood enough Russian to understand people talking about Tashkent to feel certain I was in the right place. I then met an English-speaker from Venezuela who was moving to Tashkent for a big engineering project. He confirmed that I was in the right place (he’d gotten a highly detailed itinerary from his company) but added to my anxiety when he mentioned that my carry on suitcase was too big and they’d made him check one of a similar size. I knew that was likely to be the case from my research, but had been expecting that I’d be able to check it at the gate. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure and without any staff there from the airline I had no way of finding out. I certainly didn’t have time to exit the terminal and check the bag and then go back through security before our flight’s scheduled departure time.

Fortunately, I was saved from neurotic Jew mode when another traveler arrived at the gate and overheard us. He was an English-speaker educated in the U.S. who has worked in Tashkent for years with a German aid company. He assured me that I could get a boarding pass and check my carry on without a problem. He was surprised that no one was at the gate yet but not distressed. Finally, someone showed up about twenty minutes before our flight. I was the first person in line. Sure enough, all went according to plan. In fact, I think it worked to my advantage because I already had one bag checked through from Dulles. As a result, I didn’t have to pay for my second bag when I checked it at the gate. Thanks to my advance planning, my backpack weighed exactly their (extremely small) limit of five kilos. That’s between eleven and twelve pounds. In other words, an iPad, a few comics, my schedule calendar, some important travel documents, headphones, and the weight of the backpack itself. Everything else, including my laptop, went in the checked bag. My water bottle stayed in my hand while she weighed the bag.

About a half an hour after our scheduled departure time, we still hadn’t seen any sign of our plane. My new friend from the German company said that was unusual. However, he said, the Uzbeks are a very patient people. They’ll just sit and wait without complaint until the plane arrives. About an hour after our departure time, the staff at the gate made an offiicial announcement of the delay and assured us that the plane would be arriving shortly. Actually, the delay wasn’t really too bothersome, because my Venezuelan friend and I were getting all sorts of tidbits on day to day life in Tashkent from our friend from the German company. Utimately, our flight left two hours late. I didn’t see a single person go and complain to the person staffing the gate. They just waited patiently.

When it came time to board, our friend suggested that we keep sitting and wait for the others to hand over their tickets and head downstairs. That way, we could avoid standing in line and then be the last people on the bus that would drive us over the tarmac to the plane. As the last people on the bus, we’d be the first people out the door and onto the plane. Sure enough, that’s exactly how it worked. I had a seat next to an older Russian woman. It was a sizeable plane with two seats on one side then three seats in the middle and two more seats on the opposite side. After everyone boarded, the three seats next to me were still open. I moved over and gave the woman both seats and took the seat beside mine for my stuff. Someone put their orchids they were transporting in the third seat, so I even had a bit of decoration. I wanted to stay awake for this flight in order to combat jet lag, so I switched between reading “A Feast For Crows,” to “All Star Superman,” to watching several episodes of “How I Met Your Mother” and an episode of “Greek” (Lisa’s new favorite show), all on my iPad. It was a lovely flight and despite the long wait, my Uzbekistan Airways experience was far superior to my Lufthansa flight.

Upon arrival in Tashkent, I waited while everyone else rushed to the busses. As the last one on the bus, I was the first one off and moved quickly into the customs line. There were only a few people ahead of me from some previous flight. Up to now, traveling on a diplomatic passport had provided me with no discernable benefit. There were no special lines for diplomats nor accelerated security sceenings. While waiting in line, however, I glimpsed Lisa on the other side of passport control. We’d only been apart a week but I was overjoyed to see her smiling face.

Lisa was with Pavel from the embassy and he called over to me that I was in the wrong line. I needed to go to the visa window since our visas had been issued in an unusual way after being held up for a few weeks. There was no one at the window, but Pavel quickly got someone over to help me out. After I had my visa, Pavel told me to just cut to the front of the line. My passport was quickly stamped and the next thing I knew I was hugging and kissing my wife in our new city. Once I had my luggage. Pavel walked us straight out past customs with a wave to the customs officers and we were on our way to our temporary home at 11:30 PM after nearly twenty-four hours of travel.

Next up: our new home in Tashkent, complete with photos!