As
I was walking in the streets around the Ichon-Kala in Khiva every schoolkid
learnt this sentence: "Hello mister, bon-bon" or if they were bold
enough "Hello mister, pen" and if they really thought you were rich
they would start with "Hello mister, dollar", ah the universal power
of the dollar also reached Uzbekistan. Luckily for all those kids I had bought
a kilo of bon-bons on the bazaar this morning so they all got their share of
bon-bons and I got my share of photo's, fair deal.
The
streets outside the outerwall are desolate and are probably a real
representation of life in Uzbekistan and it must be a hard life. Inside the
walls it isn't much better if you stroll far enough away from the tourist
sights.
After a while I stumbled on a bazaar and thought it was a good idea to have
some lunch and again heard the favorite Uzbek-English phrase "Hello
mister, bon-bon". I looked around and saw two cute little schoolboys that
wanted on the photo. I made some photo's and showed the pictures to them on my
camera, one of the boys quickly figured out how the controls worked and grabbed
my camera and went on a shooting frenzy. I had to carefully hold my lens not to
lose my camera to two Uzbek schoolboys, explain that to your insurance company.
After some hard negotiating I got my camera back for some bon-bons. After
reviewing the photo's there were some decent photo's made by the boys and I
think one might be eventually a photographer.
I
climbed the famous minaret and counted the stairs going up and going down,
somehow I miscounted on the way down as I came short.
Watermelons, the joy and pride of Uzbekistan
Unfortunately for me I
won't go to heaven according to legend, now is a good time for me to stop
believing in legends.
Together
with Hans I stared my quest to find the three girls of whom we made some
pictures yesterday. We had no such luck, we did stumble on some kids playing in
front of an ancient mausoleum and that made some execelent photos. When they
saw us taking pictures they fought for attention of the camera, pushing each
other away just to get on the photo. Word spread around quickly in Khiva as
there were coming children from every forgotten dark corner, cellar or attick.
I think I must have made over 200 photo's of all these children and believe it
or not, the three girls of the water well were also present. So we could ask
them their address to send the photo's.
After
this madhouse of children it was time to say goodbye and go to bed as the bus
to Bukhara leaves in the early morning tomorrow.
