Tajikistan 4

Kalai Khomb friends

We spend the night in Kalai Khomb where I photograph these two friends in front of the mosque. They have lived only here.

The small village is next to towering mountains and the sometimes raging c 970km Panj River which drains the Sarez Lake, itself filled by glacier melt, in the Bartang Valley. The river is the natural border separating Tajikistan and Afghanistan.  Remarkably, it dissolves into the desert. Before it goes, though, water is siphoned to the cotton fields, Tajikistan's major export, since the Aral Sea went dry (watering cotton) during Soviet times.

But the Pamir Highway : it is a c 1,800km two-lane (sometimes) road that begins in Termez, Uzbekistan, and ends in Osh, Kyrgyzstan.  Pre highway, the route was an important part of the Silk Road connecting East and West.

The present hw began in 1931-35 under Stalin to transport troops and provisions and maintain his control here. Over many years, sections were upgraded to concrete or tarmac but, from around Kalai Kumb, it is mostly a dirt and rock road making for brutal driving.  Along with holes and ditches, we are 1-3 feet from the road's edge dropping downwards to the battleship grey river below.  Impassable without a 4WD.

My original plan was to cycle the hw, which I now see would have been dangerous and foolhardy. Firstly I cannot service a bike which is certainly an essential requirement. Then there are the passes over 3,000m.

As we drive I note the Chinese are in the midst of bouldering and eventually, I learn, will pave the full hw, expected to finish by 2025. Payback is the minerals and precious metals that can be delivered more rapidly to Kashgar than Eastern China where the people are. Chinese orange trucks, driven by Tajiks, create impasses and Aziz honks, curses and races around them without changing a facial expression, which is normally glowering (though he is extremely friendly)

As trucks approach there is a game of chicken between drivers (Aziz) dictated by the smoothest passage on the road - is a broken axel from a pothole less inconvenient than a collision ?

Road block

Tajikistan 3

We have a momentary scare when Eitan's visa cannot be found at a crossing control nearby Afghanistan. Happily, after a thorough search, it drops from his passport where it is naturally tucked away and found before I flash a wad of dollars before the police.

Two boys presumably on their way to school, no parents in sight.

Tajikistan 2

Masget Mosque, Dushambe

Tajikistan, as all C Asia, is a Muslim country, a religion imported from the Middle East in the 9th century. It is mostly Sunni (Sunni is approximately 95% of Islam) though the Pamir region is Shia - it does not seem to create any tension. Our guide Macfadir (female) is from the Pamirs and is Shia while, she informs, her friends are a mix. She is modern, does not pray, and believes that being Muslim means kindness of the heart.

During Soviet times from 1922-91, the USSR tried to prevent Tajiks from following their religious beliefs, demanding instead militant atheism, causing serious tension. Yet despite this, in 1943, Muslim religious boards took administrative control of the Soviet Muslims and some mosques were re-opened to ease friction; under Kruschev everything closed down again until the collapse of the Soviet empire. 

Today all religions in Tajikistan are allowed with 98% being Muslim. 

On this thread, Dushambe built the largest mosque in Central Asia in 2019 called Masget. The mullah who shows us the inside informs that the mosque is one hectare and the dome's peak is over 100 feet. Unlike the Hagia Sofia in Istanbul which was designed on four pillars ("elephant's feet") enabling a pure dome and extraordinary acoustics, Masget has 100 pillars, something I consider as the mullah chants in waling prayer to show us.  

Eitan and I are travelling with backpacks and cameras, little else. Some clothes, two kindles and The Lonely Planet (1995).

Our driver Aziz is pulled over by the police in the middle of nowhere and told he must pay a cash fine of 800 somone (about $25), a fortune, for speeding. He knows the officer and they yell at each other for 20 minutes, enjoying themselves thoroughly.

Tajikistan 1

Arrival, Dushambe Airport

Eitan and I arrive in Dushamnbe (meaning “Monday” , when the city was so inconsequential it was named for the market day; now, 1.2m people and the capital city) on Sunday greeted at the very crowded airport by our guide and driver for the next three weeks. This is a first time in Tajikistan though I have been to Central Asia in 1997 to tour the Karakoram Highway with Sonnet and my sister Katie. In effect, we will soon be on the less developed - and trafficked - Pamir Highway winding into the Pamir Mountains, much of which is along the Afghanistan and Chinese borders. It is the second highest highway in the world after the KKH and reaches a top pass of over 4,200m. 

Today we are in Iskander Kul, a substantial mineral lake at c 3000m in the Fan mountains, Northwest province, where we spend the night in a guesthouse surrounded by yak and goats in a partially developed complex. Getting here, we pass by the location where Alexander The Great rested during his seige of the Sogdians in the 7th c expanding his empire into C Asia. 

Also near us is gold, mined by the Chinese (of which, 60% goes back to China), other precious metals and coal - orange trucks ferry their black payloads on a highway, the M34, paralleling the Varzov river often from extreme heights of thousands of feet and no railing. We see a number of these vehicles broken down beside the highway and the loss of breaks is not worth considering. 

M34 outside Dushambe

There is tunnelling along the route and some of it is incomplete like the 5km stretch with no light reflectors nor road markings. It is pitch black and the diesel fumes render our 4WD's lights ineffective ; our driver Aziz double flashes trucks as they pass within inches. I anxiously anticipate Aziz overtaking slower moving cars but for the most part he curbs his urgency. 

At the Iskander lake we meet a young German boxer from Neurenberg, his trainer and the coach, certainly unusual as these are some of the only people we see in the Sogd district. Mattieu is training to be the Bavarian regional champion then on to the German nationals. The altitude and mountains go with his training and I learn that the number one sport here is boxing. I share a swim in the lake with Mattieu’s Dad - 7-8C by my guess. 

Young boxer from Neurenberg

Roger Waters

Pigs on the wing

We (Sonnet, Eitan, Madeleine and I) spend a perfect evening in Hyde Park watching Roger Waters perform the best songs from Pink Floyd. True, no David Gilmore, but still fantastic.

Madeleine grabs her ticket and bolts into the crowd to meet friends, never to be seen again. Eitan arrives late but, touchingly, wants to spend the concert with me and Sonnet and so he and I fight our way somewhere into the middle to take in the theatrics.

I bought the concert tickets immediately when on sale, having been mesmerised by the Pink Floyd exhibition at the V&A last year.

Summer At Last

Wimbledon

Madeleine spends a week interning with Susan Boster's The Boster Group, which creates sponsorship from luxury brands to cultural institutions. She puts on her professional outfits, purchased from the mall or thrift shops - very cool interpretation of office style - and out the door she goes at the (un)reasonable hour of 7:00AM.

Otherwise our gal is free - Free! - to do whatever she wants. 16 years-old and summertime.

Susan Boster: "So, Madeleine, are you ready for your Devil Wears Prada Moment?"
Madeleine:
Susan: "I want you to get me a strawberry and cream frappachinio with skim milk but with extra cream, crushed ice chips, extra strawberry swirl. And java chips.
Madeleine: "Can I write that down?"
Colleague: "We are only beginning."

Hamilton Lame

Busy week in London with England winning and all.

We see Hamilton at the Victoria Palace. I think I am the only person I know who hated it. I didn't care for the rap music and the production made me think of a bunch of tenth graders running around the stage. The black performers are wonderful, but what does one make of the 100% white audience ? Katie says I have to see it in New York so maybe I will.

A more interesting story is that at Brown, and again at Columbia, I connected with Jill Furman who produced the play - her first one, I believe - and boy what a winner. Jill never struck me as someone who was into theatre nor American history but stranger things have happened.

Jill and I had one memorable night on the Narragansett Docks in Providence around 3AM where we were flashed by the police and ordered to vacate immediately in the midst of a bust.

State Of Mind

Self portrait XXXXV

51 and not dead yet. I spend my birthday in Tel Aviv and play my personal occasion low key. 

Madeleine finishes the GCSE exams and, just like that, no more GCSEs.  Ever.  It's like a marathon : once the first step taken, it is no longer 26 miles. Our gal learns her marks, alongside the rest of nation's 16 year-olds, on August 23. And, my dear friends, the inevitable question must be asked : Who is more terrified - we parents, or the kid ?

Eitan for his part receives his AS grades which are exemplary.

Of Remembrance

Sonnet leaves on a jet plane for Denver where she will meet her family and mark the passing of her  uncles Shelton and Bill and father Stanfill "Stan" Stanfill, who passed August 14, 2017.

It is celebration of three remarkable lives that were formed from poverty during the Great Depression and delivered the American experience: Bill became a wealthy venture capitalist founding Silver Creek Ventures; Shelton created the title "arts administrator" overseeing the Los Angeles Centre of Performing Arts then President and CEO of Atlanta's Woodruff Arts Center, which he put on the map with the $200 million he singularly raised to build the complex.

Stan sought his own opportunity and adventure in Anchorage, Alaska, where he took his young bride, Silver, following a two week courtship. Their arrival well time for the Anchorage earthquake of '64 that flattened the city. 

In Alaska, Stan built his law practise while Silver taught at the University of Anchorage. They collected interesting friends like the Manhattan debutant who could skin a deer and did so for the family's winter meat. 

Eventually retirement returned Stan to Colorado's Western Slope, a place he knew and loved, where his days began - and ended - with views of the Grand Mesa.

Sweet 16

Concert chicks

Lola arrives from LA and the girls turn it around for the Beyonce concert at London Stadium in the Olympic Park (I am informed that Jay Z is not pronounced JayZED but JayZEE). Lola's dad is Beyonce's agent so the girls are front and center at the show. They return buzzing and I blast a popular Beyonce song which elicits a few discreet dance steps from Madeleine. A father's joy to see it.

Madeleine will spend a week of the summer with Lola and Bella in LA whilst taking a film writing class founded by Katie's friend.

Manhattan From Below

Times Square at 44th St

Times Square has been pedestrianised with several city blocks set aside for strolling and taking a coffee. I find a used book stall and buy Joan Didion's "A Year Of Magical Thinking" and Machiavelli's "The Prince". 

I recall Times Square's seediness when I first arrived in New York, post college and shoes shined.  The neon glitz failed to brighten the grungy affair with its rough trades and hard-core cinema. Still it was pretty damn interesting. Less so today with Disney, Morgan Stanley and communal yoga having replaced the peep shows.

Manhattan from Above

I have been making my travels meeting with investors and enjoying the trips. Here is an arial shot of Manhattan from a small jet to up-state Albany and a meeting with New York State Teachers Retirement System (TRS).

On the morning of TRS I am picked up in a taxi with two other passengers which is mildly annoying given the importance of the meeting and how far I have travelled to get to it. I strike up a conversation with the dude next to me who is returning home from his job as a school bus driver. We connect on the importance of his work - he is the first person the kids see in the morning, and the last before going home. This gets a nice smile from him. I use the story to open the Teachers meeting and the rest goes like a charm.

Over 50 Years And Counting

Gracie is going strong

Eitan: "Is Tesco's open tomorrow?" [Dad's note: Tesco's is a grocery store. Tomorrow is a Bank holiday Monday].
Me: "You afraid we are going to run out of food?"
Eitan:
Me: "Admit it, you were."
Eitan, laughing: "Yeah, I guess so."
Me: "The kid's a furnace."
Sonnet: "Stop teasing him."
Me: "At this rate of food consumption I am going to have to work another five years."
Eitan: "Really?"
Me: "We might have to borrow money from your Grandfather. And buy a farm to ensure your meat supply."
Eitan:
Me: "Want to move to Iowa ?"
Eitan: "Ok Dad you can stop now."

Almost 50 Years And Counting

72nd and Broadway

Madeleine intently watches a movie at the kitchen table on her iPad with ear plugs. Unable to get her attention, I space-walk back and forth in front of her.
Madeleine: "Oh my God."

In Pink

Eitan at 17

Eitan has his own look, which is expressed through limited options given the school uniform.

The boy looks good in a suit and here he demonstrates that pink is a solid option in the shirt rotation. I give him pointers on where the shoulder cut should fall, and the value of belt vs. buckle (English prefer latter) or the number of pleats (seven or none) and whether a serious man would ever wear roll-ups (cuffs) in Europe (Never). He takes it in like the wise man he is then ignores it all immediately.

Eitan selected Prefect, a position of leadership within the school. He wears a special tie.

Money Trail

Tokyo (from hotel room)

More than at any time before, I have travelled the world meeting friends and investors, anticipating our next fundraising for Astorg VII. The cities start to look the same, I must admit, and I have little time for museums or cultural activities still I get the buzz of a new place in my body and the privilege an insider's look through the people I am fortunate to know.

Recitals

Sheehan and Eitan at Hampton recital, complete with full orchestra ensemble

So.. some time since my last blog. I am getting a few snippets of encouragement to continue ("Dad are you ever going to do that blog of yours again or what?" from the Shakespeares). So, since it is a bank holiday weekend (and thunderstorms too boot), I will try to catch up on some of the last half-year.

2018 means college applications, that thing over the long horizon and across the bounding fields and in the never arriving future. It's here. Eitan has taken the SATs and the ACTs and the British school AS exam in early modern history. The results are coming in and they are satisfactory.

Without football this season due to the torn left ACL, Eitan has thrown himself into choir, piano and theatre, where he will perform at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August. Otherwise, he busies himself with homework, college essays and his group of friends which provide him with great pleasure.

Sonnet and I crack wise about Eitan's social life for this blog entry.
Sonnet: "You know he can hear everything your saying through his open window."
Me: "Really?"
Sonnet:
Me: "Eitan !"
Eitan: "Yeah ?!"
Me:
Sonnet: "You are so clueless sometimes."

Me, later in the kitchen: "Say something for updating the blog."
Eitan: "For the blog?"
Me: "Yeah, say something."
Eitan:  "Um, it feels like a good stage in life right now. Quite a lot of ahead of me. Cruising along at a fairly constant pace."
Me: "Say something not for your grandparents."
Eitan: "The knee is a bit of a setback. Uh.. I don't know." [Dad's note: Eitan blew out out his second ACL, this time the right knee.]
Me: "Anything else kid?'
Eitan: "Not really."
Me: "Thumbs up, middle or down?"
Eitan: "Middle I guess."
Me: "A carefree life."
Eitan: "Yeah. A bit."

Cool Cat

Madeleine at 15. She's been here for ten years.

Today it is crunch time for our gal with the mock exams (known as the 'mocks') that prepare the Year 11s for the GCSEs, which arrive like a cold storm in May and lasts for five weeks. On the other side: relief, mainly. Eitan went through it last year and, now, the takes the A levels (the "As").

Mike Flynn turns like the worm he is, negotiating a sweetheart deal from special counsel Mueller that likely saves Flynn and his son from prison. Mueller gives Flynn a pass for evidence on Flynn's superiors and there are only two: Trump and VP Michael Pence.

"Democracy dies in darkness."
--Leader on the Washington Post

Skate Rats

One of the cooler things in London is the skateboarding that takes place in the undercoft beneath the Queen Elizabeth Hall on the south riverside. The skate boarders have their own thing and don't bother anyone.
Yet, they were nearly kicked out severals years ago to make way for a £120m refurbishment project.
The skaters balked, refused to vacate, and the ensuing battle with the Southbank Centre lasted 18 months. The skaters eventually won with support from the public and then-mayer Boris Johnson.
In reality, the Southbank Centre wanted to move the skateboarders 120 metres upriver to a space under the Hungerford Bridge but Lambeth council received more than 27,000 objections to the centre's planning application. 

Southbank lost the PR battle.

Strumm'n Pink Floyd

Madeleine teaches herself guitar and relays a few chords to me, which I hack on Eitan's guitar.
Our gal was once a determined trumpet player which has not progressed into adulthood; our house sadly misses the loud blasts of sound that once descended upon us from her bedroom.
Deep down I miss the trumpet for it connects me to her childhood and it was demonstrative of her determination and uniqueness. Same as the pink cowboy boots.