"I love going to new countries and trying out the McDonald’s." - Mandy Moore, on the essence of traveling.
"Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive." - John Eldridge
*****
TASHKENTIt took about 6 hours in a share taxi to get from Osh to Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan. After numerous checkpoints and demands of 'passport please' and our driver stopping on the outskirts of the city and trying to extort more money from us to take us to the center, (and after we threatened to get out and flag down a marshrutnoe (minibus) and the lady traveling with us giving him some lip), we arrived at our B&B, a nice, small place run by a woman named Gulnara. Tashkent is a leafy city, with tree-lined boulevards, wide avenues, and even a metro system. I've mentioned before that all the stations are themed, although it is forbidden to take photos in them as they were designed as nuclear shelters (note to self: when the nuclear threat becomes a real possibility, take the next flight to Tashkent and camp out in the metro). Although Tashkent has a very rich history behind it, it is largely of Soviet design as an earthquake in 1966 leveled it and the city was rebuilt. It is quite a relaxing city, with lots of parks, fountains, and places to eat, serving both Western and local fare.
$100 in Sum.
Continuing the theme of weirdness on our Central Asian adventure, the Uzbek monetary unit is called the Sum and its highest denomination is 1,000. With the exchange being 1,200 Sum to the dollar, you can imagine the wads of cash we received when we changed $100, especially when the money changer we used only had notes of 200 Sum denominations. The above photo gives you an idea.
Statue of Amir Timur, Uzbekistan's version of Genghis Khan. His statues are littered throughout the country.
A beer. In the park. With fountains all around.
SAMARKANDOn the advice of a traveler we met in Tashkent, we stayed at Bahodir's B&B, an extremely welcoming place that offered communal dinners for a dollar extra. It was at these dinners where we met other travelers, and slowly realised that of the 10 or so people staying there, only three of us were not bikers. There was a group of Germans on motorbikes, and a number of individual pedal bikers, including a Japanese fellow who started his journey in Portugal. Perhaps the most interesting was
Rob Lilwall, who started his journey two and a half years ago in the Siberian winter with his friend
Al Humphreys. Another biker we met in Tashkent,
Lindsay Hill, just had his bag stolen in Bishkek, with his passport, camera, mp3 player, credit cards and a little cash gone with it. Lovely.
Samarkand is famous for its epic Islamic architecture, most notably the Registan and Bibi-Khanym Mosque, once the biggest Mosque in the world.
The Bibi-Khanym Mosque from outside.
The Bibi-Khanym Mosque from inside.
BUKHARAThe highlight of our trip to Uzbekistan in my opinion, Bukhara really feels like an old silk road town. Narrow, dusty alleys wind their way throughout the city, and just when you thought you were lost you would walk out right in front of a huge Medressa. Bukhara was a major part of The Great Game (a book by Peter Hopkirk that I've recommended before and I'll recommend again. And again. And again.), and to see landmarks such as the infamous 'bug pit' that two British officers called their home before they were beheaded in front of the Ark. Nowadays to be a 'whitey' in Bukhara isn't as perilous as it was back then. Carpet shops are everywhere, and artisans ply their trade outside their shops, interrupting work when someone goes inside to take a look at their wares.
The entrance to the Ark.
Inside the Kalon Mosque.
Inside the Kalon Mosque looking out, with the Kalon Minaret in the background. They used to throw people to their death from the minaret in the old days.
The entrance to the Kalon Mosque.
The Kukeldash Medressa, and the Taqi-Sarrafon Bazaar in the background.
View of the Mir-i-Arab Medressa from the Kalon Minaret. And yes, I will be framing this one.
Another view of the medressa from the minaret, with some of the town in the background.
KHIVAWe had heard that Khiva was a squeaky clean museum town now catering to bus-loads of tourists on day trips from nearby Urgench, but I didn't care. Khiva was the most notorious town in the Great Game (the Khan's favourite method of torture: impalement, where victims would take up to two days to die), and I had to go there. No exceptions. And I did enjoy it. We managed to avoid the $10 entrance fee to get into the old town from some advice given to us by a German cyclist we met in Samarkand, staying with a nice family in their home, which had excellent views of the Juma Minaret. When all the buses had left and it was dark, I liked to wander around the old town, with the historic old buildings looking both sinister and grand in the moonlight, and the town itself full of activity with kids running around and families sitting and conversing to each other. I would put my hand over my heart, give a slight bow and say 'salam aleykum' to all the elders, which never failed to bring a smile to their faces.
The next day I began my journey 'home'.
The Juma Minaret with the colourful Islom-Huja Minaret in the background.
A view through the doors of the Mohammed Rakhim Khan Medressa.
Peek-a-boo.
Kalta Minor Minaret and Mohammed Amin Khan Medressa (now Hotel Khiva).
Another view of the Islom-Huja Minaret.
