"Because you will get sick" or "Bimor meshaved"

Tajik folk medicine, which is loosely based on Galenic medical theory, can prove to be one of the most frustrating parts of a trip to Tajikistan.  Not familiar with Galenic medicine? Well, there is absolutely no cause for alarm because quite literally every Tajik you meet will fill you in, especially if they find you in danger of transgressing the aforementioned ancient Greek guy's sage wisdom. Here, I have outlined a short list of things that Tajiks are convinced will make you violently ill.  Below this list, I have created my own list of things that will make you violently ill. The two lists, as you will see, having exactly zero (0) things in common.

1. Drinking cold water.
2. Air conditioning.
3. Eating fruit and yoghurt in succession.
4. Abstaining from meat.
5. Taking cold showers.
6. Going from a hot place to a cool place.

And now for my list of things that may or may not kill you:

1. Drinking any water that does not come from a sealed bottle.
2. Not having air conditioning.
3. Eating the yoghurt - period.
4. Not washing your fruit in bottled water. I'm serious. Same goes for your toothbrush.
5. Not closing your mouth when you shower. No joke. Shut your trap until you are dry as a bone.
6. Eating. Ideally you should fast the entire time you are in Tajikistan. They have some great-tasting food, however you never know what will get you sick. I recommend drinking some vodka with every meal just in case.
7. Drinking beer on tap. Don't do it. Same rule as water. If it ain't in a bottle, do NOT gobble.

Galenic medicine is based on the belief that there are several 'humours' in the body, which must always remain in balance if one is to be healthy. Illness, then, arises from an imbalance of one or more of the four humours.  This imbalance can be caused by drastic changes in temperature, overindulgence in food or sex, and a poor diet. We do not really subscribe to such theories in the West, no more than we believe in four (or five) elements anymore or the philosopher's stone, for that matter.  I am not saying that Galenic medicine is entirely bogus.  In theory, it's quite similar to ayurvedic medicine, which has gained traction recently in the West, perhaps as part of our raging appetite for Indian spirituality and our penchant towards orientalism.  That being said, for those looking to return to more traditional healing methods, perhaps they should consider what Galen has to say about medicine, the body, and well-being.  Maybe nix the blood-letting though. I don't think that ever worked. I should also mention that Galen was really into vivisection. Ew.

That's it for now. I hope this helps any of you who might be interested in going to Tajikistan. Tajiks are not shy about letting you know when you are breaking "the rules."  If you are sitting in a drafty spot, putting your bottled water in the  refrigerator, passing on the lamb that you know was in the sun rotting for six days, or just making some food combining mistakes; I assure you - it will not go unnoticed. You will be asked, sometimes politely, to cease and desist. For your own sake, of course.

A Note About Food, or "Non, non, non, non"

Tajiks, like most Asians, eat a lot of carbs. The national dish is a kind of oily rice pilaf, and bread is served with every meal. A host of other non-Atkins-friendly delicacies are also common at meals, snacktime, and tea time such as: sambusa (think samosa with lamb or savory pumpkin filling), fried dumplings (never caught their name, but they resemble a chewy hushpuppy), shakarov (a savory stale bread pudding served with mayonnaise), and endless tea biscuits. There are, of course, a number of what we would call "healthy" dishes in the Tajik diet. Vegetable salads are extremely common, fruit is often served in lieu of dessert or sugary snacks, and the bread is much less processed than most commercial bread in the States and other parts of the West.

Tajik women selling non at the bazor.

 Speaking of the bread, I really came to enjoy the taste of "non," as it's called in Tajikistan. I ate so much of it, in fact, that I began to buy my own loaf each day. I would smear it with Russian chocolate-hazelnut spread or dip it in the Tajik equivalent of fromage blanc flavoured with onions and mushrooms. On the way to the nonvon each morning I would sing Michel Polnareff's "La poupee qui fait non" with extra emphasis on the "non, non, non, non" line (see video below). I even took a loaf with me for the plane ride home. It is soft and has a delightfully chewy texture, reminiscent of a French baguette with less crunch. Families go out every morning--sometimes before each meal--to purchase fresh bread from the local bakery (nonvon), which is usually only a few minutes' walk from any given location. There are several varieties, of course, but I prefer the plain one. It comes in a round shape with a decorated depression in the middle and is about the size of a dinner plate.

The tarboozmobile.

Thank G-d I was there in the summer, as I was able to take advantage of the delicious produce Tajikistan has to offer. In the days of the Soviet Union, Tajikistan was known throughout the U.S.S.R. for having delicious melons, tomatoes, and various kinds of stone fruit. I feel I must remark on the tomatoes. They are succulent, juicy, full of flavor, and very inexpensive. As you can imagine, I ate a lot of them. I ate them fresh with salt and pepper, put them into stews and ratatouille, and I even made preserves with them. These are like no tomato I have ever tasted and reason enough to plan a return trip. Also worth trying are the melons, both the large white melons and the watermelon (tarbooz). There is a Tajik saying, "har rooz, tarbooz," which, with a bit of poetic licence I might translate as "watermelon - all day, uhr day." And it's true. I can't remember I day that my host grandmother didn't try to made me scarf down plate of juicy, succulent tarbooz flesh.

 Though I would prefer not to, I must say a few words about the national dish, plov (also, osh or oshi-polov). It is the very same "oily rice pilaf" I mentioned earlier. It always contains matchstick carrots, onions, and lamb. On special occasions or for guests, Tajiks may add a selection of other ingredients (raisins,
pistachios, toasted cumin powder, etc.). The thing I dislike about plov is that it is always swimming in oil, usually cottonseed. Tajiks seemed to find it incredulous that someone could be so put off by their national dish, but I was and remain so. To be fair, I did try a version made with buckwheat instead of rice that was truly delightful. There were hard-boiled eggs and parsley in it. It contained significantly less oil than the traditional version as well. That being said, it was hardly plov anymore.

Plov, osh, oshi-plov - whatever you
may choose to call it, it's not for me.

All in all, the traditional foods I ate in Tajikistan were quite tasty. I have yet to duplicate anything other than the buckwheat plov; however, I am trying. The country's recent political instability, to put it lightly, has not been conducive to producing frivolities like cookbooks, so I am working mostly from memory and the help of Uzbek and Kazakh cookbooks and food blogs. Another Tajik proverb: "Better is it to fail a hundred times than not to try at all."