Seville, Spain: I Did Not Fall Madly in Love with Generalissimo Franco But I Still Had Fun

After our perfectly lovely time in Almaty, Kazakhstan, it was time to cross into our final ‘stan, the one most believed of Herman Cain: Uzbekistan. There was no easy direct way to go from Almaty to our first destination in Uzbekistan – Tashkent – so we had to take an overnight train (but of course!) to Shymkent, Kazakhstan first, then get a taxi to the border, cross the border, and then get another taxi from the other side of the border to Tashkent. It was exhausting just to think about, but considering how relatively well our travels had gone so far, I was optimistic that it wouldn’t be too troublesome. I think I’ve previously shared on this blog that IQ quote about being an optimist and fool? Yeah. 

​To relish our final moments of Almaty’s modernity, we got an Uber to the train station instead of arguing with taxi drivers. We would have enough of that the next day, oh boy, would we have enough of that. When the car was due to arrive I shut down the little baby laptop and prepared to put it away and get my giant pack on…and true to chitty, chitty form, Windows decided to install updates then. DO NOT SHUT OFF YOUR COMPUTER. You think that maybe it was one of those quick ones since they didn’t ask first? Here’s the picture I took.

150 UPDATES. What in tarnation is that about! This is the kind of bullshit that can put me off Windows forever. I had to hold my computer open in the car, in the train station, as we waited for and then boarded the train. Can you even picture how ridiculous this crap made me look? I had a giant backpack on my back, my stuffed daypack slung on one arm, my ticket in one hand, my passport open in the other, my purse hanging cross-body, and the laptop nested in the crook of my elbow. If I thought people had stared at me before in these parts just for being a Western female traveler, hoo boy, was I in for some learnin’.

Fortunately, this train helped to balance out the fury that the computer caused me. Because of some of the less-than-stellar experiences endured on the Chinese overnight trains, we decided that our first night back on the rails after so many weeks merited an upgrade! We got a private berth instead of sharing with 2+ randos (not to be confused with randis which are usually good) and it was GREAT. And clean! The little compartment had one set of bunk beds against one wall and a little vanity table with a (clean!) mirror and small table on the other side. I thought there was a closet but the inside door was a connecting one to the next compartment, for families I guess. Our neighbors were none-too-pleased when they realized someone was trying to open the door but they had a crying baby so it’s a draw. This little room was so nice, as was the train in general. The bathrooms weren’t horrifying, AND – there was a water cooler! Guysssss! I could refill my bottles with potable water! My baby nephew says to me “drink agua!” every time he sees my water bottle and you know what Huddybear? I did!

​We placed the still-updating computer on that little table and left it to finish. When we went to sleep, it was at number 9. Of 150. In the morning, when it was at 33, we just shut it down and used up ALL of our restraint to not smash it into a thousand pieces.

​As we waved goodbye to the European-style cosmopolitan vibe of Almaty, we knew we were saying goodbye to civilization in general for a good while. Our time in Uzbekistan would comprise experiences on the more raw, less modern side of things, as our itinerary tracked ancient Silk Road stops and historically important towns and landmarks that are more or less untouched since the old days. Meaning, it would be like stepping back in time, especially considering how modern the city we were coming from was. Bye civilization!

But we didn’t realize at first just how drastic the contrast would be and how quickly it would materialize. When we got off the train in Shymkent, we needed to get a taxi to the border with Uzbekistan, and it was quite the ordeal. We asked several drivers for prices but all were oodles more than they should have been according to literally every piece of information – internet, books, hostel employees, previous travelers. We talked to a woman at an information desk by the side of the road (I don’t know if it was official; it looked like the Bluth banana stand without bananas, which I wanted even more than information) who told us in Russian to take this bus that was there and that would do the job. We were about to board but with a little more questioning, we figured out that that bus just would take us into the city center, where we would have to find the bus that would actually take us to the border, or get a taxi. The extra step seemed incredibly unnecessary and unwanted, especially if we would end up needing to negotiate with a taxi there anyway. We might as well just do that now, we thought. So back we went to argue with taxi drivers. Finally we found one who offered a not too bad price, so we agreed and unloaded our stuff and got in and…didn’t leave. The driver instead started filling the other seats with other people. We sighed but this was to be expected, right. Finally the car was full and the driver starting driving and took us to…the other side of the train station. What’s going on, we asked, not actually wanting the answer because we knew there was some bullshit about to come our way. The driver indeed spewed some bullshit, telling us to get into this other van that was there, already full of people. So this driver we had found wasn’t actually going to ever take us to the border. He was taking us to his friend with a van. He actually had the gall to agree to something he was never intending to do and then DRIVE US 15 SECONDS TO ANOTHER PART OF THE STATION. 

Oh man this shit was just the beginning.

We said are you kidding me, no f-ing way, we are not getting into another stuffed mashrutka and paying the price we agreed on as if we were getting a private taxi. So we went back to the front of the station and started all over again negotiating with drivers in Russian the best we could. One driver promised he would just take us and not fill the car with others and we said great let’s do it. We left the station, drove for five minutes down the main road…AND THEN TURNED BACK TO GO TO THE STATION. What the HELL is going on, we asked? OH – he had to pick up another person. At the station. That we had left. You said it would just be us and ALSO WTF, we said. That’s it just this one more, the driver promised. JFC, fine, we said, come on let’s go. We again left the station, and then the driver stopped the car along the side of the main road where a crowd of people were standing. He wanted to pick up another person from this crowd! And not someone he knew about, he was just going to ask if anyone needed a ride. FFS. We yelled HELL NO! Just take us to the f-ing border right now! He reluctantly left and started driving the three of us to the border — at the fastest speed I’ve EVER witnessed any car go, race cars in Talladega Nights included. I was petrified. This guy was such an asshole AND he was a dangerous driver?? Oh my god. We sped down the roads passing every car and weaving through lanes and cutting off EVERYONE else on the road and just holding on as tight as we could, terrified.

When we were sufficiently in the middle of nowhere, nowhere near anything we could see or walk to besides highway and desert, the driver pulled into a gas station along the side of the highway.  He said he needed gas, and didn’t have money to pay for it, so we had to pay for it. Are you KIDDING ME? I started screaming at him in English, I knew he could understand my hatred and disgust at him even if he didn’t know every amazing curse word I used. We are not paying for your gas, you crook! But then he popped the trunk and started pulling our bags out, threatening to strand us along this highway in the middle of nowhere if we didn’t pay up. As much as I despise giving in to people like this, we really had no choice, so I gave him a little money. But no, that wasn’t enough. Apparently gas is very expensive in Uzbekistan or something because he kept asking for more. I really didn’t want to give any more and set a dangerous precedent in case he kept stopping along the way and demanding more money, but luckily that didn’t happen. Just this one instance of extortion so I guess we were lucky. He got back in the car — I don’t even remember if he actually pumped any gas — and flewww down the highway for another hour while I sent him death ray stares from the back seat. He drove mostly in between the two lanes, stopping anyone who dared even think about passing him. I continue to wish him very ill thoughts, naming him like Arya except I don’t know his name but the universe knows who I mean. Get ‘em.

​Finally, finally, he dropped us near the border. We walked up to the gate, took a deep breath to get over the horrible experience we just miraculously survived, and then another deep breath to prepare for one we expected to be equally terrifying. See, the Uzbek border brings with it a lot of rules, and a lot of horror stories. We never heard anything as strict and scary as the stories about Uzbek border guards. They can delay travelers for hours, going through every single nook and cranny of their luggage, opening every container, going through pockets, everything. Worst of all, Uzbekistan has a VERY STRICT and VERY SERIOUS no-drug policy, and their list of banned substances includes things that we can get over the counter in many Western countries. So we had to be careful about every substance we were bringing in, and make sure we had prescriptions ready to show. But the banned substance list is serious, and it’s not something you can get around with a prescription. If you try to bring any of them in, you could go to jail. One of the substances on the banned list? Ativan. I know. Because we did our homework (do your homework!), we knew about this trouble before we left for the summer, so I only packed about as much Ativan as I thought I’d need up until this day, so I wouldn’t have to throw much out. I still had a few extra I had to toss back in Kazakhstan, but nothing worth crying over. It’s just so funny and perfect that the one thing that would have helped me deal with the shitshow that was this country was the one thing I had that they outlaw. COOL GUYS. 

When we got through Kazakh exit, we were given the forms. We knew we had to declare every kind of currency we had on us and in what amounts, so we had counted up all our shiz on the train. This is more annoying than it sounds when you have traveled to 10 countries! We had dollars, we had euros, we had pounds, we had soooo much Chinese yuan that converted to like just a few dollars but takes up so much space, we had Mongolian money, we had roubles (a significant amount since we would return to Russia after Uzbekistan), we had Kyrgyz money, Kazakh money. Man alive this really makes one appreciate the euro zone. We wrote everything down and then had to declare our valuables, including our phones, readers, and the baby laptop. We had read about other white travelers who had to unpack everything and who were detained for hours so we were super nervous. But, luckily, the border guards on duty for us were SO excited to meet Western tourists that they were pretty much just friendly and trying to ask us all sorts of questions, not about what we were carrying but about us and the west and whatever. We SO lucked out. I mean there were no toilets anywhere to be found but still, quite lucky. I guess I could have brought my Ativan in after all but better to be safe than to end up in an Uzbek prison in the driest desert with no toilets, right. 

Oh but then we had to find another taxi to take us to Tashkent. Guyssss. I never want to take a taxi again. But there are no buses! There’s no other way! You just find a guy with a car and you hope that they are trustworthy. Ish. We found an old man with an old car and mistakenly thought ‘hey maybe this old guy will be more legit and somewhat decent than the younger asshat men are.’ We showed him the name of our guest house in Tashkent and he said ‘oh yes I know that place!’ We were relieved. The guy drove us through the nothingness and into the city, where he immediately stopped, got out, and started chatting with two young women. What is going on NOW, we wondered. Then the two women got in the car with us. I know. What’s going on, we asked?? One of the women spoke a little bit of English and she explained that the driver didn’t know where the hostel was, so they were going to help them. Let’s go over this again. The man who told us he was familiar with the hostel not only lied about that and didn’t know it, but DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THE ROAD IT WAS ON. And here’s the kicker – neither did the two women. They were just helping by using their phone maps –WHICH WE HAD TOO. And they showed us that they didn’t know how to read their phone maps, because WE were the ones who ended up instructing the driver on where to turn and how to f-ing drive. It was ludicrous and so frustrating and like, are there ANY taxi drivers in central Asia who aren’t complete assholes? 

Finally, after we screamed NO, LEFT – NO YOUR OTHER LEFT about 40 times, we found our guest house, yelled at the driver to get out of our sight for ever and never come back here again, and entered the house eager to shower and relax. Naturally, the room wasn’t ready yet. 

We’ll talk about that guest house and about the rest of Tashkent in the next post. Until then, I need to go take an ativan. 

  The Art of Raw Food is a food club and restaurant in Zagreb that lays claim to being the only 100% raw vegan restaurant in Europe. IN EUROPE! That’s a pretty good claim to fame in itself, but now it can also say it was my favorite restaurant so far in Europe, period.

     Maybe I’m inordinately impressed by raw food, maybe I was in awe of the owner’s previous, long-term experience at the famous & fancy Le Bec Fin in Philadelphia. Or maybe it was just incredible food, with incredible attention paid to everything. All of these considerations made this experience one of my all-time favorites.

     Several weeks before my trip, I emailed Darko, who co-owns the establishment with his wife, to reserve a table. You must do this in advance, as it is more of a club than a restaurant. (When we paid the check, we got membership cards. You can bet I’m looking forward to using that again.) Saturday hours were only 12pm-6pm, so I booked us for lunch as soon as they opened. 
     The restaurant was a little tricky to find. It’s on the third floor in an apartment building, and you have to check the little name plates at the door to buzz in. Once inside, I loved the place. It felt like a shabby chic home, with the kitchen out in the open in the front room, and two comfortable, airy dining rooms off to the side. We were the first customers and chose a lovely table right in front of the open terrace.
      Darko and his wife, Lena, own and run the place. Lena was also our server. They were both so kind and friendly. We talked a lot, especially with Darko about Philadelphia and raw restaurants in the USA. 
      Once we sat down, they brought a dish of cherries. If you haven’t heard, Zagreb is lousy with the stuff. No, seriously, the cherries I had in Croatia are the best I’ve ever had, so we devoured these quickly.

     To start (and to get my fill of vegetables before moving on to Bosnia), my boyfriend and I both ordered juices. I had spinach, cucumber, lemon, and mint juice, while my boyfriend had pineapple, mint, and lemon. Both were great, although I’m used to ordering my 24-36 oz. green juices and so finished mine way too fast. 
     Lena also brought us a dish of fig carpaccio. This blew my mind. Thinly sliced fresh figs, covered in olive oil and salt and pepper. They did not taste like any figs I’ve ever had. Who would have thought of doing this? The oil and salt really softened the figs and they fell apart easily. The usually sweet figs were now savory and they were just wonderful. I love when novel but really simple concepts succeed with flying colors.

     For our first ordered course, we chose the stuffed mushrooms and the sushi. The mushrooms were stuffed with a tomato sauce and a dollop of cream, which melded nicely. They tasted great, but weren’t mind-blowingly different from other stuffed mushrooms I’ve had. 

     The sushi, on the other hand? Mind blowing. I fancy myself an amateur vegan sushi connoisseur, and I’ll never pass up the opportunity to have it. This was one of my favorites.
     Just look at that detail! So many vegetables are stuffed in there. The sushi I’ve had recently (and frequently) in NYC is amazing but heavy, stuffed with fried tofu and grilled mushrooms and covered in heavy creamy sauces. This raw sushi was light and delicious and a welcome change of pace. I just loved it. 

For our entrées, we ordered the pad thai and the empanadas. I would recommend both of these dishes. Surprisingly, this raw pad thai was the first pad thai I’ve ever truly enjoyed. Cooked (authentic) pad thai always leaves me feeling meh. Perhaps it was because this raw version had to focus on really selling the flavors, rather than relying on greasy fried components. Whatever it was, it worked and was delicious.

The empanadas, however, again blew me away. In what I assume was a dehydrated seed and vegetable bread wrapping (which was great) was a savory nut mixture that satisfied my constant taco craving. Spring greens also filled the inside, but what sold it was the topping. A thin cream sauce held diced cucumbers, carrots, peppers, peas, and black sesame seeds. You can ask my boyfriend – I was raving like a lunatic about those peas. How often do you find perfect, fresh peas? And they were perfect. The whole dish worked deliciously. I want it now. 
     We were pretty stuffed, but of course we needed dessert. We ordered the torte, a creamy filling on a chocolate nut crust. It was pretty good, not too sweet which I liked. Strawberries filled the bottom half and flower petals were scattered in berry sauce. It was lovely.

     This torte would have been more than enough for dessert after we were already stuffed, but then Darko poked his head in and said he was going to make some superfood ice cream for a little girl in the next room, and would we want some? Like I would ever turn down ice cream! I am that little girl in the next room! I’m glad we decided to go for it, because this was one of the best parts of the meal.

This was some of my favorite ice cream ever! And I went to Vida Vegan Con and had samples of like 50 different kinds. It was insanely chocolately but tasted light, more icy than creamy. It reminded me of the chocolate cream ice at Rita’s Water Ice, which I used to love. At first we were wary of the enormous portion, but we ended up debating whether it was proper etiquette to drink the remaining liquid from the bowl. (We stopped ourselves, barely.) Boyfriend is still raving about it, and he doesn’t really dig raw food like I do. (He’s also an omnivore.) If you go, make sure you can have this!

     The whole experience took more than two hours, so if you are trying to squeeze in a rushed meal, this is not the place for you. But I didn’t mind in the least. It was a special meal and was worth the time. I would say it was also worth the money, but it was so cheap! Given the quality of the food, service, and attention, I expected a meal equivalent to at least $100 USD, at least! Instead, it was 200 kuna, or $40. Can you believe it? I spend more than that at my local raw place for just juice and one dish. +1 for Zagreb.
     Overall, this was an amazing restaurant. I wish it was in a more convenient place for me, but it makes it a special destination spot. Darko and Lena are great people, and I hope you get to meet them.

The Art of Raw Food, Zagreb

• Water speed: Good; we were given big glass bottles to refill our glasses, which I always love
• Bathrooms: Fine, clean. A little weird that the sink is next to the dehydrator, but whatever – the toilet is separated!
• Service: Great
• Food: Wonderful. Go if you can! 
• Bonus: Everyone was so friendly. We loved talking to them about Croatia, raw food, and America.