SAMARKAND AND BUKHARA by David

[This blog loaded in Melbourne, by Ros & Hamish - cannot access Blogger site in KAZ]

Tashkent, Samarkand and Bukhara: they don’t get much more exotic than these legendary Silk Road cities. And Samarkand and Bukhara were the main reason for our being in Uzbekistan.

On the morning of our planned entry into this country we had driven from Shymkent, Kazakhstan, expecting to cross the border directly south, just a dozen or so kilometres from Tashkent. We pulled up outside the large sheet metal clad Kazakh border gates in the midst of the usual chaos of milling groups of people, animals, trucks, cars, taxis, food sellers, money changers, and ‘facilitators‘, etc. People rushed over to Will’s open car window, some saying Sum (money changers), some selling, others simply joining the fun, while a tout knocked persistently on other car windows wanting my attention. Alas, there is no such thing as order, at borders. It turned out (from the tout or facilitator, who wanted to hop in our car to direct us for a fee, of course, and confirmed by a border guard) that this border did not process vehicles. The border crossing for vehicles required a huge U-turn - a 120km detour! Off we went therefore to find the Kazakh/Uzbek vehicle crossing, and to suffer yet another bout of border chaos…

Many hours later, after requisite queuing, border formalities were finalised and our car had been searched yet again, we entered Uzbekistan and headed for Samarkand over more rough roads. We passed through numerous police checkpoints, again got help with navigation from locals along the way, and again lost our way (in Samarkand this time) trying to find something, anything, to tell us where in the city we were (this almost daily frustration of feeling lost, usually late in the day, is quite wearying, even after many months of experiencing it…)

Samarkand’s ancient monuments including The Registan triplet of grand entranced medressas, the cracking and tilting Mosque of Bibi-Khanym and the sobering avenue of mausoleums of Shah-i-Zinda are simply spectacular. We strolled through the huge courtyards located behind the grand entrances of the medressas and mosque, enjoying the symmetry of the arches, niches and spaces and detailing of majolica and azure mosaics, as well as the peace and calm these spaces exude. While restored to a greater or lesser extent, these mainly 14th century structures remain remarkable examples of mediaeval buildings and of turbulent times hard to imagine today.
On the road to Bukhara, we are stopped by police at one of their checkpoints. Along this same road cars queue at two service stations - all the others passed are closed, empty, their driveways blocked by rocks, rope barriers or gates. I am later told that diesel is simply not available, the queuing being for petrol, obviously in short supply. I anxiously check our fuel gauge and mentally calculate diesel use back to Kazakhstan and our next available fuel…We pass many donkeys on the road, mainly drawing small carts but sometimes carrying people. Local men wear skull caps; some wear long coats. Most middle aged women wear long, ankle length, colourful, patterned dresses over sometimes matching long pants, usually complemented with a plain jacket, a headscarf and bright coloured shoes. Younger women wear similar clothing except that the dress is knee length. Will observes the locals are appearing more middle eastern now.
We settle into our Bukhara B&B, after yet again getting lost entering the city. At one point 6 or 8 men and kids try to help but stare blankly at our LP map, unable to say where we are, where they are. What is it about maps? We drive on, try again and finally I am walked the last kilometre or so to our ‘hotel’ by a friendly and helpful young woman, a hairdresser. The B&B manager, Fasli, in turn walks back the same distance with me to Will, patiently waiting in the car for my return, to direct us through a warren of almost too narrow back lanes of the old town, to our car park outside his B&B. It is now common for men to greet each other with their left hand over the heart, making a very slight bow of the upper body. The greeting is gentle and warm and easily responded to. We eat dinner almost alone (it’s low season) next to a tree apparently planted in 1477 and above public baths of a similar age. A medrassa adjacent and the brick and mud walled, shamble of buildings around us suggest somehow that little has changed here in a very long time…
Next day we are again exposed to extraordinary history as we stroll through ancient medrassas, bazaars and mosques, and view soaring tile clad domes and brick minarets. Will and I wander quite randomly, as one after another amazing building emerges around each corner we turn. We see a soaring minaret, pairs of matching azure tiled domes, and huge façades of medressas and enter one of these through a grand arch, step through a white plastered colonnade to a serene inner courtyard, and almost gasp as the next amazing panorama comes into view. Symmetry, tile detail, fabulous arch and dome forms, shadow, light and volume synergise into a built form hard to grasp for two gaping tourists a long way from home. I enjoy the experience enormously; Will is somewhat more reserved as to his thoughts, as always, however no one can deny these buildings are impressive.
Food here has been good - ranging from the non bread (circular, with a raised rim, flat centre and delicious), shaslyk cooked over coals, a rice, fried vegetable and meat pilaf, laghman noodle, meat and vegetable soup, side dishes of tomato and raw onion, and buuz a staple, steamed mutton dumplings. Breakfasts include salami, cheese, rice porridge, tea, coffee, sausage and poached eggs, sometimes watermelon or steamed dumplings, and, of course, non bread.
We are soon to return to Kazakhstan, to head into the vast western desert region to get us back to Russia. The remains of the Aral Sea and other delights, beckon…

[Photos to come later: Registan, Samarkand; Kalon, Mosque and minaret, Bukhara; Will studies our LP, in the courtyard of Mir-i-Arab Medressa]