Samarkund - Day and Night

Thursday 03 October 

Another day dawns and my breakfasts are getting smaller.  Today we had bread, fruit and porridge.  I’m sure the porridge wouldn’t have killed me but my stomach was a little fragile and I wasn’t sure if warm milk would have helped or hindered.  I dug into my stocks and had two rice cakes and a banana with my coffee.

We started the day by trying and failing to buy train tickets to Tashkent on Sunday.  We kicked ourselves as we should have bought them a week ago when we were at a train station.  You can’t buy them online unless you can navigate a Russian website which, when in its English mode, doesn’t let you buy anything. Bum.  We’ll need to get a cab.  We successfully changed more USD for SOM then started our sight seeing.  

We started at the famous Registan.  This is the jewel in Central Asia’s crown being the most venerated square in the region.

It is truly beautiful.  Unlike the lovely buildings in Khiva and Bukhara, all three Madrassahs are fully tiled.  Usually just the front and perhaps minarets are decorated but here no tiles have been spared and they are covered from ground to sky in blues, whites, greens and yellows.

It is testament to the Soviet input that these buildings have been restored to their former glory.  Built in the 15th and 17th centuries then ravaged by campaign after campaign and left to ruin, the Soviets seemed to undertake a huge amount of rebuilding from the 1920s.  Looking at the state they were in - minarets leaning at 70 degrees, arches crumbled, domes collapsed - it’s quite amazing.  We spent an hour or two visiting each of the three Madrassahs.  We also hit our wedding record with four bouffant white dresses spotted at once.  To be honest, if you’re going to have a decent backdrop for your photos this is the place to come.  

After lunch of fried veg we visited Bibi Knanum Mosque.  This was built at the turn of the 14th century and had the tallest pishtak (portal) known soaring to 35 m high.

It was built in a bit of a rush and redesigned mid-build resulting in a fragile construction which started dropping its bricks on the first worshippers.  Earthquakes helped its demolition.  This is a photo of a display board showing how it was before any rebuild.

The Soviets once again reconstructed what they could in 1974 but only redid certain parts leaving one end waiting for a stiff breeze before it comes tumbling down.  

After this we explored the bazaar. Again a mix of breads, fruit, nuts, spices.

We spent sunset and mid evening at the Registan. It’s lit up until 2000 whereupon they unsubtley flick a switch and knock half the lights off. With a steady hand and long exposure you can get some great shots.

We dined where we’d had lunch as it was convenient and there was little choice around our area. It was a bit of a ‘take it or leave it’ attitude and they had no vegetable soup, no rice and no pickles. So I simply had fried vegetables. Again. Again.

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.