I'm trying to catch up on where I've been so here is the story I wrote on the road to Tashkent.
We are on the bus again, on the way to Tashkent, about the same distance as Samarkand from Bukhara, our suitcases a bit heavier. Mine because of a lovely suit jacket that I purchased at the home of the fashion designer whose home we went to last night for a fashion show and dinner.
This seems to be the custom for selling items here. A show that includes a lecture about how the items are made, a display of the items and then a gracious meal. Similar to the way in which I purchased the rug in Istanbul. The same was true of the leather jacket. Plenty of personal attention.
In this case it was a fashion show first. We sat on benches lined against the wall, the wares hanging above us and off to a corner. Then one of the models entered the room.
These were outfits based on the traditional dress of the Uzbeks, pantaloons and long flowing tops, that were designed for the modern woman, as outlandish as those on some of the modern runways . None of us were interested in purchasing any of these but we were interested in the short suit jackets and scarves on show round the room. I found several jackets in blues and browns that I liked. The jackets were made up of a quilt material that used several different prints contrasted against one another with lovely colors. I tried on one that was predominantly blue. Luckily Marty was there to help. His family
had been in the garment business and as soon as he saw me in it, he motioned, too tight. I tried another. Perfect, he proclaimed. This one was in browns and blacks, good colors for me and I purchased it.
Earlier in the day we had gone to watch paper making from the wood of the mulberry tree. Again, we watched the process and then were served lunch in a long grove of trees behind the house. It was excellent, homecooked by the paper maker’s family. I bought a paper placemat with machine made stitching made of paper that he assured me was washable, but NOT by machine. I figure I can use it under something in the dining room.
We are back in the desert , lone mules and burros graze. For the first time I’m seeing trees along the road and the foothills of mountain ranges on both sides of us, the Turkmenistan mountains to the right. A sliver of Turkemenistan juts out here.
I will close here and continue later.
Filed under: Uzbekistan