On a hot, dry night in May 2015, I landed in Tashkent to begin my first diplomatic tour. My iPhone was shuffling through songs and settled on “The Heart of Rock and Roll” by Huey Lewis and the News just before the wheels hit the tarmac. My heart was excited and hopeful, and my mind was jumbled full of Russian and consular don’t-forgets. Over 105 weeks later, hours from flying away for good, I’m grateful for the best parts of being here, and even the tough parts. Five figure visa interviews. Eleven new countries…and one old. Road trips. Illnesses and injuries. New friends and colleagues. Probably way too many plates of plov cooked in sheep fat. And an inestimable amount of gratitude and hope for what comes next.
It was Friday morning, St. Patrick’s Day, and my husband and I were leaving for work. The temperature was in the mid-50s Fahrenheit, and as we’d decided two nights before looking at the weather, it was time for the tortoises to come out of hibernation. Apparently they’d had the same thought, because as we lifted the lid off their burrow, they were already on the way out themselves. For the first time since October 18 (150 days), we were seeing our tortoises awake and on the move!
As I mentioned in my previous post, last week we hit a countdown milestone: 100 days remaining at post in Uzbekistan. But there’s another countdown happening at our house too: we’re waiting for our two desert tortoises to emerge from their second winter hibernation under our front lawn.
In mid-February, something happened in Tashkent. Flowers started to bloom, the days reached temperature highs in the 60s and 70s, and the days noticeably got just a little longer. Being in the car in the afternoon without cracking a window became uncomfortable.
And yesterday, one more telltale sign of spring arrived: our two little desert tortoises emerged from nearly four months of hibernation under the front lawn.
Happy Uzbek Independence Day!
As long-time readers will recall, last year during Uzbekistan’s annual holiday commemoration my husband and I were both still living in Alexandria, Virginia. We celebrated by swimming in our pool and then heading to Rus Uz in Arlington to consume traditional Uzbek delicacies.
On Tuesday, thousands of pounds of household effects (HHE) including consumables were delivered to our home.
Given that I live a short drive from the embassy, I scheduled the delivery in the late afternoon so as not to interfere with visa interviews. I had a couple of business days’ notice while my shipment sat in Customs, so I was ready. Before the appointed time, I zoomed home to sequester my free-ranging yard tortoise into a shoebox. I dug out the shipping inventory in preparation to oversee the unloading of four huge wooden crates of our stuff, and steeled myself against possible aggravation.
Last Friday morning, I learned that within a couple of hours my vehicle would have its green diplomatic license plates and become street legal. I was already in possession of my Uzbek driver’s license and diplomatic accreditation card, so the issuance of dip plates was all that stood between me and the open road. The car had been sitting in the far corner of the embassy parking lot for nearly three weeks after clearing Customs, and I was grateful and elated that I would finally be able to take it home and stop going everywhere on foot or by taxi.
This blog post is dedicated to the people who sent me questions about my life here in Uzbekistan via Facebook, LinkedIn, and email. If you have a question you would like me to answer in an upcoming post, please contact me through one of those mediums or comment this post to let me know! I will tag these posts “Your Questions” in the future.
I’ve unintentionally been on hiatus from blogging for the last few weeks, as I ramp up to meet new responsibilities and additional training at work. All is going well and I have plenty to keep me occupied.
At work, more days than not I look up and ruefully see that I’ve been there 10-11 hours and probably should trudge home, through the dust, to my quiet sanctuary of a home. The only thing that could possibly make it feel more like home would be the much-anticipated arrival of my husband, and our HHE sea freight, in that order.