October 1. We had a last minute hotel change in Samarkand. Rather than staying in the very pretty Malika Prime Hotel that our friends the Pairaudeaus enjoyed so much, we were booked into the Orient Star, a modern place lacking ambiance but compensated with good plumbing. The location of the Orient Star allowed us to walk fairly easily all around Samarkand, into the old Jewish sector, out to the Silk Carpet factory, over into the Russian sector, and of course along the Registan (Medressas (religious universities), Mosques, fort and residence of the Emirs). It has been about 35-40 degrees during the day time, so walking is best done slowly. We have been using the hottest part of the day to try to use an internet cafe. Most of them are very dimmly lit, the connections are variable, the power comes and goes, and the keyboards don't have any visible letters. I've been thinking of Mrs. Wilson, my grade 7 typing teacher. Thank you Mrs. Wilson for making us memorize the keyboard on those old Underwood typewriters. I still able to type quite fast, but as you know, with quite a few errors.
I think that I mentioned that the President has had many of the old archelogical sights cleaned up, some of the near by streets paved, restorations of varying quality and a few public toilets installed. The parks are beautiful and in time, the trees will provide much sought after shade. We enjoyed visiting the sites but I was still looking for the magic found in 19th century photos that had captivated me for decades. Well, late in the day, on Oct. 1 we revisited Bibi Khanym Mosque. This is an enormous congregational mosque (14th century). Once one of the Islamic world's biggest mosques (main gate higher than 35 M) but it slowly crumbled and mostly collapsed in an earthquake in 1897. Legend says that Bibi-Khanym, Timur's Chinese wife ordered this mosque build while he was on campaign, but the architect fell in love with her, kissed her and the kiss left a lasting mark. Thereafter, the myth goes that Timur ordered women to cover their faces in order not to tempt men. Well myth or not, we found an unrestored section of the mosque and in the late afternoon light, filtered through the dark and dusty mosque, with the cracks and cobwebs and pigeons, we felt the immense magic of this empire.
Genghis Khan and his hoards sweeping across the steppes in the 13th century uniting an empire bigger than anything we can imagine pretty much destroyed most buildings, but the ruins left behind lots for the imagination.
October 2. We drove via Shakhrisabz (pop 75,000)toward Bukhara. Shakhrisabz was Timur's hometown and once upon a time it probably put Samarkand in the shade. Timur was born on 9 April 1336 in this ancient town then called Kesh. He rose to power and build a tomb for himself and his grandson Ulugbek. We visited the Ak-Saray Palace, a crumbling relic in the midst of everyday contemporary living and climbed to the top for a view of the area. There is a huge statue of Amir Timur in a park and we saw about 8 weddings taking place simultaneous. The brides here prefer very big puffy. white dresses and veils with lots of sparkle. The wedding attendants are beautifully dressed in traditional national dress and the men seem stuck on the shiny Italian suits with very pointy shoes.
We stopped for lunch enroute to Bukhara and then the driver drove like a bat out of hell across the Kyzylkum desert toward Bukhara. The desert is alive with poisonous snakes, gazelles and maybe a couple of foxes, and has been planted with a few purple shrubs planted in vain to try to stop erosion. We drove up one last pass at about 3000M and had a last look at the Hissar Range and into the snowcapped Zerafshan Mountains and remembered our trek and experiences in the beautiful Fan Mountains. The asphalt is pretty good but there are only occasional white lines. Where two lanes are intended, often there are 6 vehicles racing across the roads beeping horns to indicate passing. The speeding traffic weaves around wandering cows and the occasional donkey cart loaded with dried corn stalks. Driving seems to be some sort of crazy sport here in Central Asia and is just plain scary, but so far, we have arrived at our destinations only a little shaken.
Our hotel, the Kabir, is located right on the main square and we walked around for the rest of the day. There were tour buses in Samarkand and again here in Bukhara we are seeing other tourists, mostly in large groups from all over Europe. Yesterday we had a guided tour of Medressas, Mosques, Minarets, Towers and key sights of Bukhara. On June 24, 1842 Col Stoddard and Captain Connelly were marched out from a dungeon before a huge crowd in front of the Ark (fort and citadel), made to dig their own graves and, to the sound of drums and reed pipes, they were beheaded. The Guide described the event as though it happened yesterday and as we looked into their lice and vermin infested cells, felt that they must have been relieved to die. The Guide described these members of the British military as spies who deserved execution. Well, truth is always a distortion. Today, we retraced our steps and at our own pace absorbed each of the ruins by ourselves. At our own pace, we have privacy and it is so special to be here. We have seen all of the major sites, the Medressas, the Mosques, the Caravansaris. Most have been restored during Soviet times and now house souvenir shops selling everything that you can imagine: carpets, hand woven silk, ceramics, "antique jewelery" etc. Stefan reminds me constantly that we are already overweight and threatens to make me drag my own bag across the Turmenistan border.
I love Bukhara. My favorite archeological site is the Imail Samani Mausoleum completed in 905, Bukhara's oldest Muslim monument and certainly the sturdiest. It was built for Samani, the Samanid dynasty's founder, his father and grandson. It is an intricately constructed baked terracotta brickwork so amazingly designed that with each shift in light, the structure takes on different characteristics. The walls are about 2 M thick and there are ruins of a spiked dome. We haven't drunk from the well of Job, but it is nearby.
We have visited the last remaining Jewish Synagogue here in Bukhara. There remain only about 300 Bukhori Jews living here. After Independence, we have been told that most have moved to Israel or the USA. According to the Lonely Planet, Bukhori, which is related to Persian but uses the Hebrew alphabet. Bukhori is still a spoken language, but it seems that it is probably spoken more in Israel.
The hotel staff and many of the guys serving us in restaurants speak Tajik, Uzbek, Russian and English. We seem to be the only guests in the hotel and the guys like to talk to us. They tell us that many Uzbeks work in Russia to earn more money and that they would like to go to Russia to work. Funny isn't it! When the Russians first came to Central Asia, workers were king and praised in statues and murals and money and the rich were evil. The mosques and medressas were closed and for 40 years, no one had a religion. Now it is all changed; the mosques are reopened and money makes the "heart beat faster and the head swim". Young men (and a few women) are leaving their families to go to Russia to earn more and to send money home. We have been told that the policy of the government is to teach Uzbek and Tajik with not much focus on Russian. It seems that few of the younger kids are learning Russian and later, I suppose that if they go to Russia they will only be able to find menial labor. It will be a time of much social change.
But speaking of social change, we can see antiquated farm equipment, fragile and mostly non existent infrastructures, and many closed factories. Near Tashkent, I actually saw a woman driving a vehicle and close to Bukhara, I saw a woman riding a bicycle, but everyone, I mean everyone has a cell phone. I think that the internet is monitored, but young people know all of the computer programs. Despite many colleges and universities, we learn that unemployment is a major problem and the young people want to emigrate. It has been fascinating to try to watch TV. Certainly with Aljazzeera and Asian Channels we are getting different
perspectives of news. Tomorrow we will explore more the back lanes around Bukhara and then on Wednesday, we'll get back into the car with our Kamikaze Driver, Safir, and drive to Khiva.
Thank you Mark for sticking with us and trying to post these blogs. This is almost the 50th day of our travel and you'll all be happy to know that we are still speaking to each other. XX00 Love to all, Corine and Stefan
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