Son writes a blog. Once a week, without fail. Until he doesn't.......

I feel that this creates a certain pressure for yours truly.  I try to write monthly, and am now three weeks late. Son wrote recently about the Nike trainers that I never let him have as a child. About skiing and the anticipation and excitement of his first ski of the winter season.  Daughter reminds me of the rule that I set for them as children that no breakfast cereal should cost more than 30p per 100g.

I was a tough negotiater.... a 'mean' mother...... I left all these scars. But we all have scars, right? My mother wouldn't let me play a second instrument. She couldn't afford it. So I took up the oboe as an adult, and then discovered that counting bars when my instrument was not playing was nigh on impossible for me, so I was never able to join an orchestra. Maybe son can buy his own Nike trainers now that he is grown up. And daughter can have any cereal of her choosing. I was only trying to stop them eating too much sugar. Fortunately Weetabix and Shreddies are cheaper than Cheerios and Frosties.

Strange things are happening; I find myself playing the piano again after years of abstinence. Drawn in by Bach's Goldberg Variations, which featured highly in the novel 'Do not Say we have Nothing' by Madeleine Thein. The novel explores the cultural revolution in China. How much tougher was the life of those sent to detention camps for playing music. Their instruments smashed and their compositions burned. I feel so lucky in comparison, and am trying to learn to play some of the easier variations. It is a very slow process.

But I am really here to tell you about Uzbekistan. My other half (OH) and I spent 10 days there in November, The problem that I have, is that I was so blown away by the whole experience that I haven't known where to start, or what to say.

 I was tempted to book the trip by some photos of the Tashkent metro stations that I saw on social media. I find it odd that I chose to book on such a whim. The rest of the trip far outshone the metro. Taking photos without a tripod and an empty station was challenging and unsatisfactory.

The metro stations are ornate and dramatic. Each has a theme.  Photography has only been allowed since 2018, as the stations used to have a secondary function as nuclear fall out shelters.

This one below, Kosmonavtlar, is about space exploration  and cosomonauts.

When I booked the holiday, I knew that we would be visiting cities from the ancient silk roads. Nothing prepared me for the breathtaking architecture found in the mosques, mausoleums, city squares and ancient madrasas ( colleges of islamic instruction).

From Tashkent, to Samarkand, and on to Khiva. So many buildings, so much beauty, and so easy to confuse them all after a whirlwind tour. I could dazzle you with ornate ceilings, walls and doors, but mostly I keep thinking about the people and the culture of the country that is about twice as large as the UK. 

The local tourists were as fascinated by us as we were with them. They were very friendly, and just as obsessed with their mobile phones as we were.

The younger generation are learning English as well as Uzbek and Russian, and were keen to practice on us by asking us for our telephone number and suggesting that we call each other ...... we politely declined.

​We were warned before we travelled that the diet consists mainly of meat, and that the local dish, Plov, a lamb, rice and vegetable dish is greasy and heavy.

So we were surprised to find that to he contrary, there were many options for delicious vegetables and salads, as well as the predicted kebabs and plov. Locals eat plov at least once a week, so it was interesting to see that you can buy pre-prepared carrots and potatoes in the local market. No plastic bags or cellophane wrapping in sight......!

The main reason to visit Uzbekistan is to visit the cities that formed part of the ancient Silk Road between the east and the west. We were bamboozled with historic facts wherever we went. A history that was unfamiliar and complicated. I found it hard to take it all in.

Mosques, mausoleums and madrasas, all built to impress with their blue tiles that denote wealth. Overwhelming in their scale and beauty. 

​We struggled with the local currency. One UK pound is 16,000 Uzbek Som. We needed 2000 som for a visit to the local 'facilities'. That's a loo, bathroom, restroom or WC to you, and is about 12 pence. in UK money. We held on to 2000 som notes wherever we could.

I was transfixed by the cloud formations in Tashkent. They seemed unlike any that I have seen in the west.

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We heard about family culture from our wonderful guide, Lochin.

He explained that when a girl marries she is not supposed to smile at her wedding, as she should be sad at leaving her own family. We saw many very miserable looking brides. The grooms looked pretty serious too. 

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Another custom is related to finding a partner that you might wish to marry. You don't tell your parents that you have met 'the one', instead you place a carrot on your father's shoe.

The youngest son of the family traditionally lives with his parents and his own family. This ensures that the parents have support as they get older.  A very different attitude to many western families.

I remember much more about these little details of daily life than the exploits of a fourteenth century adventurer. OH will have taken in all of the history and added it to his already extensive personal library of historical facts. I blame Mrs Newsome, my secondary school history teacher. She has a lot to answer for. And unlike most of my teachers I remember her name, and what she looked like. Short, with orange hair......

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I was struck by the cleanliness and feeling of safety in Uzbekistan. No litter. No no-go areas. Street cleaners with hand made brooms wherever we travelled.

​I felt very safe. A testament to the honesty of locals is the way in which street stalls are wrapped up at night; a simple cloth and some string. I yearn for a return to such values here in the UK. 

I have so many photos, so I will leave you with just a few favourites. My next task is to create a book of our trip before I forget names and places. 

There is work to do!

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Son, like me, has a blog. He writes weekly. I would struggle to achieve that regularity.
As I mentioned previously, I often only know what he is up to by reading it.

Mostly I don't worry about him. He is a grown up.

But I do get concerned when he starts asking questions about my life and that of my other half (OH) in the public domain.

'Why are there 7 open packets of peas in the freezer' he asked in a blog post recently, when home alone in our house while we were on the other side of the planet.

This question he put out there; to the whole world. I take it as a mild criticism of our daily habits, but am not suprised. I know this is an issue. I blame OH ( my other half), for he is the one who purchases peas. I prefer other green vegetables. Cabbage and spinach for example.
I have already suggested that he put a hold on pea purchasing. And anchovies ( 10 tins in the cupboard). OH is trying.

To son I would say ' but half of them are soya beans.......'

Son is a nomad, and rarely makes visits home to the UK. So it was ironic that when he needed to come home for a week we were far away in Vancouver, visiting daughter, who has also left these shores.
Son had the house to himself. And the garden. fresh vegetables on tap, and two bathrooms.

So here is a question to son..... ( I feel I should respond in kind) ..... ' sertu; enr tui o;qernut;wenrtuq eiort u'?

It doesn't need an answer, any more than the pea question. Just needed to be said. And I am far too polite to put it out to the whole world.....

So having got that out of my system I can discuss more erudite topics.

Except that I am struggling; as I often do, to know what to write. So today I am writing without knowing where my words will lead. Just do it...... as the saying goes.....

My biggest question at present is 'how will I make it through the winter'?

A recent browse through my typewritten diary notes makes me acutely aware that my mood dips dramatically in winter. I wish it were possible to 'bank' the positive feelings that summer brings.

I found myself considering this question as OH and I travelled together around Alaska for our 'summer' holiday. Strongly infuenced by my visit to the Francesca Woodman and Julia Margaret Cameron exhibition at the V&A in London, I found myself processing images from our journey in a certain way.

Some are very dark and moody; it did rain while we were there.... I am reminded of Twin Peaks; our favourite TV programme until Breaking Bad came along.

This lead to me thinking about the cold and dark of winter, and how bad weather can make for great photos, but may not help one's mood.

OH takes bad weather as a personal insult, so I was very grateful that for at least a third of  our time in Alaska we had blazing sunshine and heat. Not so good for my kind of photography.

 
Seeing Denali was a bucket list trip for me. It is the highest mountain in the US, and had had a romantic draw over me for some years. I just wanted to be there. In the middle of nowhere. With all the other tourists and cruise passengers who also had the same idea.

Not to mention a family from Nepal who were visiting because their father, an elderly gentleman, had always wanted to visit Alaska. It seems that living in a land with epically spectacular mountains isn't enough. Other mountains still need to be seen. I am not alone.

Which leads me to thinking that how I process my images depends on what story I wish to tell. Dark and moody fights with bright and cheerful much of the time. There is not much in- between. Up and down. High and low. Just like the light and the seasons.

I should tell the story of how one day Denali mountain was hidden in the clouds. From our hotel room we could see the mountains, and thought it was Denali that we were seeing on the horizon. The next morning I opened the curtains and realised how wrong we had been. Denali had revealed itself in all its glory. The mountains of the day before were just the beginnings of the mountain range; the foothills. I cannot describe my joy at this revelation. I dragged OH out of bed to gaze at the spectacle. Even he was impressed. 

My dream had been fulfilled. Denali is only visible on average one day in three.
We got lucky.

My lack of a telephoto lens on this trip meant I could not capture the mountain as I would have wished. This was a downside of attempting to travel light.

What I hadn't appreciated is how far away Denali is from any road; over 100 miles!  Or that the road to see it closer up in the National Park is blocked by a landslide, caused by melting of the frozen tundra. It won't be repaired for at least another year.

Our pre-imagined landscape can be very different from reality, and what we see in TV programmes and holiday brochures isn't always what we find when we reach the destination. A hiking guide I know who takes photos for travel brochures is instructed to have blue sky in most of his images. We all know how different a heavy grey sky can make to an experience. The lack of light and shadow makes for very dull photos.

We found more inspiring and dramatic landscapes on the drive south-east from Fairbanks. And amazing clouds. Weather and skies play such a vital part in the experience. This is why I prefer to stay longer in one place, to see it at its worst and at its best. The longer you stay, the more likely you are to get great conditions for photography. A residency is perfect!

I would like to share my wonder at the Alaskan forest floor; a lush covering of berry rich bushes, ferns and mosses. I have more photos of the undergrowth than of anything else.

But I am meandering.

I don't have a strong story to tell. I didn't come back with thousands of images.

This was a family holiday. Not a photography trip. A fly-drive, not a hiking trip that would have got me deep into the tundra scenery away from the other visitors. I will save that for another day.

I ate a lot of salmon. We did a lot of driving. OH and I survived 14 days together

I realised a dream.

And yes, we did see bears, and I am now an expert on how to behave if you see a moose, a brown bear or a black bear.

Just dont mix them up or you will possibly end up dead.