Welcome to Uzbekistan! Me and the Militsia

TASHKENT. The State Department sent me to Uzbekistan to speak about U.S. elections and the role of political parties. This week, I'll be writing about what I saw.

Flying to Uzbekistan
As you might guess, there are no direct flights between Washington, D.C. and Tashkent. My own plans entailed flying to Frankfurt on United and then changing to Uzbekistan Airways. However, United cannot check your bags through to Tashkent because they don’t have an inter-airline agreement with UzAir, so you’re better off flying Lufthansa (or a United codeshare which is really a Lufthansa flight).

At Dulles Airport, I managed to change the ticket to an earlier Lufthansa flight—a nice surprise since the incredible unfriendly telephone agent at United (on the dedicated Premier reservation line no less) hectored me that it was impossible to change my business class ticket. I guess sometimes things are possible on the day of travel which you can’t do on other days.

Arriving in Tashkent
I could write a whole paragraph about how nice the seats and video screens are in Lufthansa business class. Life is simpler on Ubzekistan Airways. Instead of animation, the safety videos look a lot like home movies. They also did not have enough visa forms on the plane which is a pity because the forms are long and you have to fill them out twice so they’d make a good activity on the long flight. But the flight was safe and the service was good which is what really counts.

The arrival in Tashkent is the local equivalent of the running of the bulls in Pamplona. The passport officers are famously few in number and very slow. It can take hours for them to process just one full flight so everyone races for passport control when the bus from the plane to the terminal arrives. Unlike in the United Kingdom, lining up is not a local strength which makes it even trickier.

I had been told that I was on the VIP list which meant I could avoid this challenge. However, the man at the VIP minibus insisted I wasn’t I the list so I joined the masses on the regular buses, carefully placing myself by the doors so I would be in good position to jockey for a spot at passport control.

I got pulled off the bus at the last minute. As it turns out, my name was on the list for the minibus for arrivals associated with the international cotton fair rather than the regular VIP bus. Even in VIP land, matters don’t move at warp speed. I was glad I managed to secure third place in the passport line as it still took 10-15 minutes. In typical fashion, someone who knew someone managed to cut even the VIP line.

Militsia on the Metro
Tashkent’s Metro is a real jewel. All of the stations are lined with marble and many are decorated with crystal chandeliers. The Metro is even designed to survive an earthquake, a good thing since tremors leveled the city in 1966 (memorial pictured above). It costs 250 sum, around 20 U.S. cents, to buy the blue plastic token which lets you ride anywhere in the system. Unfortunately, it is illegal to photograph the Tashkent Metro, also designed as a bomb shelter, so don’t even try as the militsia are all over the place.

Don’t worry, however, the militsia will find other reasons to stop the intrepid tourist. I got halted by a group of three of them while changing trains at Amir Timur stop as I was feeling weary after walking around the city for six hours. They asked to see my papers and I produced a photocopy of my passport and visa prepared for just such a special occasion. They asked why I was in Uzbekistan.

Prior to arrival, a friend has warned me that all Uzbek officials are like horses—they can smell fear—so after my initial shock I just feigned boredom and confidence and I got my papers back just in time to catch the next train. The militsia man at my stop also tried to waylay me but I just pointed behind and said (in English) “I’ve been checked already” and he saluted smartly, considered polite here, and let me go on my way.