From the diplomatic bag
Of course, the diplomatic bag sounds like a description of somebody's mother, but you know what I mean. The bag, which arrives once a week from Uzbekistan, has disgorged a letter from our man in Tashkent which he wrote when he'd just arrived. For the benefit of his avid fans (well, parents), I will transcribe his letter below for your delight and edification...
Flight very pleasant. The food was very tasty - can even go so far as saying I really enjoyed it. Slightly smug feeling as I was sat there drinking my OJ, wearing the Uzbek Airways slippers and watching the hordes wander past into cattle class. The in-flight movie was Lost in Translation, which I think it literally was, since it had no sound and stopped after 15 minutes. I read the newspaper instead, and had my first glass of Uzbek wine (yes, it is sweet - I will have to retrain my palate...)
I landed in one piece in Tashkent (result!) and was led onto VIP bus to the VIP lounge. It took 45 mins for the bags to be unloaded - by this time it was 3.15am - and I went through customs and straight into a car park. There was no sign of Everol [man from the embassy], so I thought I'd head over to the main airport building to my left (up two flights of stairs), dragging my giant bags with me. Once inside, I realised this was the departure area, and tried asking some Uzbeks for the arrivals hall in a combination of English and bad phrase book Russian.
I found the arrivals area at around 03.30, but there was still no sign of Everol, and I was starting to get harrassed by taxi touts wanting to take me to the Sheraton. Even many swift "Nyet"s would not stop them. So I stood in the arrivals hall and shouted out "EVEROL WILSON". A small man came up to me and said "Are you Glenn Marriott?". When I said yes, he said, "Stay there - don't move. I'll be back soon".
This was looking promising, despite the taxi touts all starting up again. In five minutes, the little man came back and directed me to join him at the information booth, where he got the assistant to tannoy for Everol. At the same time, he explained to me that Everol had been involved in a car accident on the way. After about 10 minutes, a tall bloke came up who said his name was Gavin and I should follow him with my bags to where the car was, which I did (saying more "Nyet"s to the illegal cabbies on the way).
Along the street, there was a gathering of people (this was about 4am) around a jeep and a smashed up car in a ditch. It turned out that Everol had gone to the airport for 2am (the actual arrival time) and been told the flight had been delayed for 5 hours, so headed off again. Unfortunately, on his way out he'd had an accident with a man in a Daewoo Matiz. The police were in attendance, and a passer-by was interpreting. However, the normal technique in Uzbekistan is for the police to leave the two parties to "come to an arrangement". The Matiz man was an illegal cabbie, driving uninsured, so wanted Everol to buy him a new car in settlement, and several of the crowd were offering to be witnesses (apparently this attracts 10% of the deal value!).
Everntually, Everol insisted that the police were involved to help settle it, much to their annoyance. By this stage, another 2 police cars and an interpreter had arrived. The police started to measure out the accident site, which took about 2 hours (until 7.30am) and then the two drivers had to make statements, which we then had to go to the police station to get photocopied (about 9am).
At this stage, I finally was taken to the apartment and went straight to bed. My new boss rang me while I was sleeping, and then came to pick me up for lunch at 1.45pm, so I managed about 3 hours sleep! An eventful start to my posting.
Flight very pleasant. The food was very tasty - can even go so far as saying I really enjoyed it. Slightly smug feeling as I was sat there drinking my OJ, wearing the Uzbek Airways slippers and watching the hordes wander past into cattle class. The in-flight movie was Lost in Translation, which I think it literally was, since it had no sound and stopped after 15 minutes. I read the newspaper instead, and had my first glass of Uzbek wine (yes, it is sweet - I will have to retrain my palate...)
I landed in one piece in Tashkent (result!) and was led onto VIP bus to the VIP lounge. It took 45 mins for the bags to be unloaded - by this time it was 3.15am - and I went through customs and straight into a car park. There was no sign of Everol [man from the embassy], so I thought I'd head over to the main airport building to my left (up two flights of stairs), dragging my giant bags with me. Once inside, I realised this was the departure area, and tried asking some Uzbeks for the arrivals hall in a combination of English and bad phrase book Russian.
I found the arrivals area at around 03.30, but there was still no sign of Everol, and I was starting to get harrassed by taxi touts wanting to take me to the Sheraton. Even many swift "Nyet"s would not stop them. So I stood in the arrivals hall and shouted out "EVEROL WILSON". A small man came up to me and said "Are you Glenn Marriott?". When I said yes, he said, "Stay there - don't move. I'll be back soon".
This was looking promising, despite the taxi touts all starting up again. In five minutes, the little man came back and directed me to join him at the information booth, where he got the assistant to tannoy for Everol. At the same time, he explained to me that Everol had been involved in a car accident on the way. After about 10 minutes, a tall bloke came up who said his name was Gavin and I should follow him with my bags to where the car was, which I did (saying more "Nyet"s to the illegal cabbies on the way).
Along the street, there was a gathering of people (this was about 4am) around a jeep and a smashed up car in a ditch. It turned out that Everol had gone to the airport for 2am (the actual arrival time) and been told the flight had been delayed for 5 hours, so headed off again. Unfortunately, on his way out he'd had an accident with a man in a Daewoo Matiz. The police were in attendance, and a passer-by was interpreting. However, the normal technique in Uzbekistan is for the police to leave the two parties to "come to an arrangement". The Matiz man was an illegal cabbie, driving uninsured, so wanted Everol to buy him a new car in settlement, and several of the crowd were offering to be witnesses (apparently this attracts 10% of the deal value!).
Everntually, Everol insisted that the police were involved to help settle it, much to their annoyance. By this stage, another 2 police cars and an interpreter had arrived. The police started to measure out the accident site, which took about 2 hours (until 7.30am) and then the two drivers had to make statements, which we then had to go to the police station to get photocopied (about 9am).
At this stage, I finally was taken to the apartment and went straight to bed. My new boss rang me while I was sleeping, and then came to pick me up for lunch at 1.45pm, so I managed about 3 hours sleep! An eventful start to my posting.
posted by OboeJane at 9:21 pm
1 Comments:
It sounds like the script from one of those British Comedies about "Our Man Abroad" - or one of those Barclaycard ads starring Rowan Atkinson....brill!!!
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