I don’t sleep very well the night before. I am like a small child, full of excitement and anticipation of what I am about to embark upon – a journey into the unknown.
My bag is packed, including my faithful cowboy hat which goes everywhere with me. If nothing else, it is a great talking point and helps to break the ice with fellow travellers. The only reason I take it is to act as a sunshade! I know that Uzbekistan will be hot so I am in need of some protection against the sun. Just how hot it is going to be I am yet to discover.
On arrival at Heathrow, I check in with Tour Leader, whose name is Laura, a native American now living in the UK. I think she is as excited as I am, even though she has been to Uzbekistan many times and knows what to expect. She says, “It will be great. You will thoroughly enjoy the experience. We have got some wonderful things to see.”
“I am coming with an open mind and an empty camera and I hope to fill up both by the time I get home.” I reply.
This is an attitude that I adopt for most of my overseas trips, especially if I am going somewhere for the first time. I don’t know what to expect apart from maybe having seen some photos online as part of my research. It’s no use cluttering your mind with all this information. You will only be disappointed if you don’t see something. So I take it as it comes, embrace the experience and form judgements and opinions when I have seen it and done it for myself.
Enduring the usual scrum at the security check-in, and remaining as calm as possible, not wanting to rile the security people any more than they are already riled, I emerge into the departure lounge. The security people are only doing their job, and a pretty thankless job it is too, although highly skilled to be able to identify anything suspicious in the x-ray machine. However, I would much prefer to be safe than sorry.
I grab myself a coffee and go in search of a seat to pass away the next 2 hours. I spot a chap with a similar luggage tag to mine, so I make my way towards him and ask where he is going. “Uzbekistan” he says. What a coincidence, so, I introduce myself, “I’m Peter, do you mind if I join you?” He is a Peter too. I’m sure that will lead to inevitable confusion for Laura.
We wile away the time by reminiscing on past travel exploits. I thought I had been to some pretty exotic places like South Africa, India and China, but t’other Peter has been all round the world. There doesn’t seem to be a place that he hasn’t been to – except Uzbekistan!
When our gate is called, as per usual, it is at the far end of the terminal. When we arrive there, there seems to be quite a hubbub going on and people are gathered around some guys wearing green and white tracksuits. It would appear that we are on the same flight as the returning Uzbekistan Olympic and Paralympic teams and their entourages. There are two guys showing off their gold medals and posing for photographs. Through their interpreters, I discover that they are both wrestlers. One of the guys is blind so that makes it even more impressive that he has not only been able to overcome his disability but he has managed to conquer his opponents to win a coveted gold medal. They are recounting their experiences of London 2012 and their joy and pride at having been able to represent their country in such a way – and to succeed in the way that they have done. They will be national heroes when they get home.
I am struck by just how humble they are. Two ordinary guys, one of them blind, from a small Central Asian country thrust into the spotlight by achieving their dream of competing in and winning an Olympic/Paralympic medal. They already know that they will be receiving a tremendous reception as sporting heroes when they get home. They know that the Uzbek nation has been following their exploits on television and on the Internet and they express their pride in having represented their country on a global stage.
The flight is full, not surprisingly. I am seated immediately behind another Uzbek athlete – a shot putter. He is an enormous unit and I feel really sorry for him because he just cannot fit into his seat. I have difficulty fitting into mine and I am half his size. In the end, he has to spend most of the flight standing up. I try to strike up a conversation with him to sympathise with his plight but we just end up talking in sign language. Again, a really nice, humble guy. I hope he gets some sleep when he gets home because he doesn’t get any on the plane – neither do I!!