Desert to Samarkand

Wednesday 02 October

It was naturally a chilly morning but I’d managed to shed the fleece by breakfast and had my standard fare of eggs, a slice of cheese and rice cakes - I’m so glad I brought these with me!   

Our driver then took us down to Aidarkul Lake.  It’s a freshwater lake containing fish and a natural magnet for birds.  We wandered along the shore line enjoying the tranquility of a still lake, reeds, sand etc. The water was v clear. 

The lake is obviously slowly diminishing as evidenced by the salt-encrusted tree roots seen along the water’s edge.  We found a flock of sheep.  There were cloven hoof prints all over the beach.  They appeared unshepherded but I imagine your flock is not going to disappear into the arid desert for long before heading back for a drink.

We had lunch by the lake, provided by the tour company who produced plastic tub after plastic tub of provisions from a van.  I was pretty stuck food wise as today’s lunch was non (bread), pasta, salad, fruit buckwheat and stuffed peppers (stuffed with meat).  I eventually settled on the buckwheat, which is actually not a wheat despite its unhelpful name, and the outsides of the peppers.  As usual I avoided the salad and fruit which is sad but sensible.  We then headed off on the 4.5 hour drive to Samarkand.

Our route took us south and parallel with the lake for a couple of hours.  A dry, desolate landscape was our view and a bumpy jittery ride was had.  We sometimes were close to the Nuratau Mountains which host, amongst other things, a walnut tree nature reserve.

The roads evolved into smooth tarmac, and the single carriageways into dual.  As the road condition improved the traffic increased.  The last couple of hours were therefore smoother under-tyre but more swervy as we vied for road-space with the other vehicles. Our B&B was tucked behind a tall wall in the city centre.   This wall was apparently erected by the local council keen to keep the old city intact and shielded from the modern eyesores of a 21st century city.  At night this wall is lit externally but internally it’s just whitewashed.  The old city is a labyrinth of narrow streets and now the government has kindly ensconced it in a high wall blocking any view.  It results in the feeling of being ghettoed.

Into the Desert

Tuesday 01 October 

We left Bukhara today on a tourist trip - a two day excursion into the desert and a yurt camp stay.

As we headed north to Nurata we stopped at Rabat-i-Malik, an ancient caravanserais, a historic truck stop consisting on a ground floor trading area and upstairs accommodation.  Now all that remains is its iwan frontage (the caravanserais behind it has been demolished) and, across the dual carriageway, a covered well.

 

An hour or so later we arrived in Nurata.

Shirh, our English speaking driver, took us around the historic mosque.  He explained that the holy water of the Chasma Spring (spring when Mohammed’s son in law struck the ground with his staff) was a constant 4 deg C year round.  My head didn’t quite believe that but there you go.

We climbed the hillock behind to see the ruins of the ancient citadel. I asked Shirh about the rags tied to the bushes.  “They are not my religion,” he explained, “but others do it for good luck”.  

The views were good.  There was a good deal of choking smoke being spewed from the local building site.  Again Shirh explained that the locals tend to flatten them rebuild rather than restore.

There are new mosques appearing.  Although the blue is still used, these are modern (and no doubt cheaper) versions and the blue looks quite plasticky.  

Shirh took us to a local hostel for lunch.  I’d forewarned the travel agency I was a vegetarian so plates of fried aubergine and veggie noodles appeared.  And the usual pile of non (bread).  We all tucked in.  Then the soup arrived.  Yum.  Then the main course arrived which was a Uzbek favourite, Kazan kabob, meat stew.  I had the non-meat just stewed veg option.  And more non.  We were more than stuffed so just picked and certainly had little room for fruit and biscuits (although we only eat the melon as the rest is potentially suspect re water washing). 

JC was quite taken by their pet partridge.  Apparently it’s a sweet singer but it doesn’t have much fun being that cooped up.  I was assured it wasn’t next week’s supper.

We drove another hour into the Kyzyl Kum Desert catching our first glimpse of the 200 km long Aidarkul Lake.  Our yurt camp was just a few km north of the western edge.  After tea and canasta (I won!) we had a short but fun camel ride.  I’ve never ridden a camel.  Other people’s stories of lumpy, bumpy, smelly, snorty beasts never appealed but I was there and they were free.  My hairy vehicle was a fun ride.  Not terribly comfortable but I expect a few days in the saddle sorts that.  I was less impressed, but not surprised, by the tick that simultaneously hitched a ride on my leg but fortunately I caught it before it had hooked on.

More cards and then we watched the sun set over the silent desert.

My legs have never been so long.

Reminded me of Namibia.  Then supper.  Kazan kabob again.  Most of the camp, 18 yurts in all, was occupied by a tour of Germans (or German speakers at any rate) so there was lots of German banter over supper.  The yurt camp provided a minstrel for the post-supper camp fire, playing the tanbur - a long necked three stringed guitar - and the Germans loved it.  The rest of us were content to hear the twangs, claps and drums from the meal area.  It was cold.  COLD!  I found a spare duvet in the yurt, folded one over and slept under three quilts.  This was whilst fully dressed with my fleece on. Brrrrrr.

Day Trip - Bukhara Suburbs

Monday 30 September 

Today we hired a taxi and driver to take us around three sites outside of the city.  One week into my Uzbek holiday I’d found it far easier to ditch the sunhat and used my sarong/scarf all the time.  It served as a sunshade, head covering for mosques and extra layer in evenings.  

First off was Bakhauddin Nakhshbandi Essemble.  It is a most revered site to Muslims.  Holy sites all have ablution chambers on entry where the religious cleanse themselves.  Past this point were the beautiful buildings.

There was a lot to see at this site but once sated we hopped in the taxi and the driver wove his way through traffic at speed to our next site.  Seatbelts would have been a comfort.  

The next site was a Ruth treat.  The Sitorai Makhi Khosa, Emir’s summer palace, was built in 1911 by the Soviets keen to encourage the Emir our of Bukhara into a lazy, and hence forgettable, abode.  The guide book described it as both fascinating and tacky - I was sold.

The buildings are a mix of Russian and Uzbek building styles but once inside the Russian creativity broke loose and there is a riot of colour.  Stained glass, tiles, mosaics and paint all collide into a dizzying display of opulence.  This was the throne room (also called the white room) which was the most restrained.

From there the dining/ballroom was resplendent with its autumn look (it had one for each season).

And I loved the tea room.  Such lovely light and glass.

The Emir’s hareem was close by.  I can’t imagine it was a particularly fulfilling life being a concubine but I suspect there was little choice in the matter.

The Emir had a zoo, but once the Emir was deposed in the late 1920s he fled to Afghanistan, his family were taken to St Petersburg and his elephant to somewhere else in Russia.  Today there is a flock of peacocks scratching around in the dry soil.

We then sped off to our third location, Chor Bakr Necropolis.  This was noted in the guide book as crumbling and it certainly was, except for those sections which appeared to have been knocked down and rebuilt.

From what we’ve seen the Uzbeks don’t refurbish monuments, they seem to either raise them and build again, or plaster over them sticking a brick frontage on.  Many of the tombs in this place, dating back to the 10th century, were in remarkably good nick and it seemed the Bukhara effect of renovating to the point of losing its character was happening here.  We were offered the opportunity to climb onto the roof by the local caretaker who also sold bird feed to entice the pigeons to eat off your hand (thanks but no thanks).  It was a sweet 5 USD for a good view of Bukhara.  My scam alert was alive and kicking so we declined.  JC then hopped up the stairs to find a view of Bukhara if he’d taken his telescope with him.  Considering we pay 2/3 USD each time to visit a site, 5 dollars to walk up a flight of stairs was a payment too far.

We returned to our hotel then headed out to souvenir shop.  We’re further from the desert here, more near the flood plain of the river.  The goods for sale in the bazaars are a little more refined, and the price has jumped to reflect that.  There are no camels, not even as a lonely tourist attraction.  And the camel hair garments here are soft; in Khiva they could double up as loofahs and the camel hair hats were wonderfully large and mad.  They sell hats here but they are faux fur and smaller.  I sort of miss the rough and readiness of Khiva.

Exploring Bukhara

Sunday 29 September 

Sunday.  Time to dance.

We started our day at the Bukhara landmark the Kalon minaret, mosque and Madrassah, the Poi Kalon Essemble.  For 6000 SOM each (under 1 USD) we entered this huge, but pretty empty, mosque.  The Kalon (Great) or Juma (Friday) mosque is enormous and in days gone past this would see 1000s of worshipers stream in through its 7 gates for prayers.  Now the Moslems are huddled near the back area and the majority of the mosque remains silent bar for the "click click" of tourist cameras.  

The interior is white, simple and cool. The minrab is obviously more decorative. This mosque has 208 columns and 288 domes.  A vast city.  The columns nowadays are topped with pigeons each claiming their spot.   We wanted to climb the minaret but alas it was closed.

We went off piste after this eastwards.  We revisited a Madrassah and mosque then headed into the residential area, a labyrinth of dusty lanes, building refurbs and loose wires.  We emerged for lunch in a restaurant with surly greeter.  Fortunately the rest of the staff were more cheery.  A trip to the pharmacy was next.  I was desperate for lip salve and JC needed eye drops.  Sand, dust and sun are drying us out. My change consisted of cash and a packet of face wipes. 

Our guide book recommended exploring south so we did.  However pretty much everything we aimed for was either padlocked, being refurbished or demolished apart from an expansive Jewish cemetery.  Swathes of the suburbs are being flattened and rebuilt.   

A few interesting sites and then we re-entered the labyrinth of the old town and back to the centre. 

A drink by the pond beckoned and we watched wedding parties arrive for their photos.  Actually suspect these are just wedding shoots rather than the wedding itself.  We often saw couples posing in traditional costumes or wedding attire followed by a photographer and couple of friends to hold flowers/veil.  

Our last treat for the day was Chor Minor, a 18th Century folly.  Very stylish for sure but none of the minarets are real (as in can climbed and house a balcony) but for 5000 SOM each we were able to climb onto the roof.  We witnessed another engagement party arrive for their photo shoot and spied on the kids below.

It rained this evening.   Not British rain.  More like a little mist in the air.  It rained two weeks ago apparently (it’s notable so they remember it).   With an average rainfall of 50 mm it’s getting on for newsworthy.  We found a fab eatery which had a variety on the 'grilled veg and rice diet', this had stir fried veg and rice.  That good, we booked for the next night.