Bukhara
After
a day and a half in Khiva, it’s a seven-hour drive across the wasteland of
the Kara Kum desert on an excuse for a highway that is
mainly p
aved but
extraordinarily bumpy and narrow. Trucks
on their way north barrel by us with a frightening roar.
At one point we have to cross into Turkmenistan and back to Uzbekistan
to cross over the Amu Darya river. We
go through menacing immigration check points, which prove quite harmless. But,
every 50 miles or so, we are stopped at police check points and our driver
cross-questioned. Although he
won’t admit it, it seems that money changes hands.
Eventually, the landscape becomes less arid and we see the famous Kalon
minaret in the distance. We have
arrived in the legendary Great Game city of Bukhara. The Great Game was the name given to the real life spy drama
that played out over this area in the 19th Century as Russia and
Britain vied for dominance in the quest to control India.
Large
parts of the ancient city have been restored in the past 10 years since
Uzbekistan’s independence and the city is indeed a glimmering and
mystical oasis. The streets of the restored parts of the city are wide and clean
with yellow brick façade abounding everywhere from the sidewalks to the
restored historic monuments. There
are spectacular old mosques and buildings covered with colorful glazed porcelain
at every turn and the city once boasted a madrassah (school of Islamic learning)
for every day of the year. At every
turn, we dive into the residential and unrestored alleys where the real people
of this ancient city choose to live. A
few years ago, when asked whether they wanted to continue living in the old
parts or be moved to some of the new suburbs, a majority chose to retain their
ancient way of life.
We
tour the old city, negotiating the purchase of rugs, miniatures, embroidery,
jewelry, carvings, paintings and other local crafts from the ubiquitous
merchants sold at prices that are ridiculously low by Western standards.
We also take a tour of the last Emir’s summer palace a little way
outside of town, with its fantastically ornate decoration and exotic history.
Wherever we go we meet friendly people.
After
two days, we depart by car along the fabled Royal Silk Road, heading for
Samarkand, Tamerlane’s capital. Alas,
the road is no longer filled with camels moving exotic goods from east to west
and back. Rather, we see trucks and
cars, barreling along at high speed, overtaking heavily laden donkeys with the
occasional stubborn cow in the middle of the road.
Uzbekistan
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