Central Asian sojourn

By Louis Mullinder

[excerpt; 1996 Christmas newsletter]

Meintjeskop Ditaba II/1998

But I have seen Afrasiab' s cities only,

Samarkand, Bokhara and lone Khiva in the waste,

 And the black Toorkmun tents; and only drunk

The desert rivers, Moorghub and Tejend,

                                             Kohik, and where the Kalmuks feed their sheep,

                                             The Northern Sir, and the great Oxus stream,

The yellow Oxus.

Matthew Arnold, 'Sohrab and Rustum'

Marion and I had always wanted to see the old silk road, and so we set out in the middle of August, together with two very dear friends - Simoneta, an Italian friend who lives in Paris, and our English friend, Peter. Our aim was to trundle through Uzbekistan in a minibus and to soak up the essence of that ancient and glorious civilisation, but also to visit the bazaars" In short - it was wonderful I We set out from St Petersburg by air via Kazan, the capital of Tatarstan: any traveller's worst nightmare, with officious bureaucrats, no bathroom facilities, overcrowding, the inevitable pervasive odour of stale Russian garlic sausage, but fortunately no live chickens or goats!! Peter had flown directly from London and so we all met up in Tashkent. We travelled the next day to Samarkand, via a small market town in Kazakhstan, Ettisai - the place of seven shadows or seven shallow lakes - specifically to visit a rug bazaar; the palette of colours was simply amazing and having successfully haggled over a beautiful Merv- Tekke torba - a tent bag - for some time, we left for Samarkand. After a comfortable journey of some five hours from Tashkent, we arrived in Samarkand. 

Sarnarkand is a lovely city, filled with spectacular monuments, particularly from the time of Timur the Lame (alsoknown as Tamberlane), much having been destroyed prior to that by Genghis Khan. The Registan, the place of sand, with the mosques and madrassahs, or religious schools, is most impressive, as are the necropolis, with it., stunning mosaics, and the mosque housing the graves of Tirnur, and his son Ulughbek.

The Bibi-i-Kharnun mosque, in particular, with its superb decorative calligraphy cannot be forgotten. The architect is said to have fallen in love with Bibi-i-Kharnun, the favourite wife of Tirnur, while overseeing the building of the mosque, and, she, so very impressed by his work asked what reward he should have; his request that he be allowed to kiss her was granted, but the mark remained on her cheek, and Timur decreed that all women should henceforth be veiled - the story, told in the shade of the mosque forecourt, seemed to add just that touch of mystique.

The Uzbeks are wonderfully friendly people, all dressed in the most colourful national costume, and with very open, relaxed religious views. We avoided hotels, preferring to stay a la bed and breakfast: Zoya's in Samarkand is absolutely to be recommended - the most wonderful vegetarian cuisine! From Samarkand we made some day trips: to Pendjikent in Tajikistan, where we saw a wonderful archaeological diggings dating from the seventh to the ninth century AD and destroyed by invading Arabs. Unlike most ruins, in Pendjikent one perceives well what once stood there - for the uninitiated it is difficult when most archaeologists point to a mound of rubble and tell one it was a temple, or something else.

The Tajiks are very surly, like Russians, but then they are having a little civil war there, I suppose I En route we stopped at Urgut, a market town in Uzbekistan, to look for suzanis, embroidered Uzbek wall hangings - needless to say we managed to find some lovely ones' We also visited Shakhrisabz, the birthplace of Timur, which was the most amazing portals, but sadly little else of the original palace.

Lunch was memorable in that our guide, Raisa, a charming lady, haggled in the kitchen and managed to find some eggs, which she proceeded to boil: the restaurant was a throw-back to the all-pervasive bad Soviet cuisine,' most un-Uzbek in character.

Stopping by briefly at Ulughbek's observatory - poor man was murdered by the priests, since his scientific approach threatened to erode their power base - we left Samarkand and, on with the silk road, after a journey of five hours, we arrived at Bukharal,

A wonderful city, with people living and working in the old city itself: bustling, full of life, magnificent architecture and wonderful pavement cafes, and tea-houses - or chaihani - where we enjoyed melon, salad, and lamb kebab. Bukhara is charm itself - how much more charming had the Soviets not drained the pools leaving the stork colonies no food - but so charming none the less because the city as such is preserved, unlike Samarkand where 'civilisation' has encroached. The history, just so interesting at every turn, from the imprisonment of Queen Victoria's emissaries in a foul-smelling pit in the Ark, or citadel, through to the complete misnomer of the 'Bokara' carpets, which are in fact Turkmeni, and were only ever sold in the markets of Bukhara!! Our small collection of knotted artifacts and woven suzanis naturally increased as we made our way through the country along the roads lined with mulberry trees!

We then set out through the Kizylkum desert [desert of red sand] to Khiva, which lies almost on the border with Turmenistan, a journey of some seven hours, which passed quite easily as we sped past the camels, stopping briefly on the banks of the Arnu Dar'ya or Oxus river Khiva is like a Hollywood set in the desert - it is now an open air museum, but unlike Bukhara, has little atmosphere, although one must say it is stunning architecturally, absolutely stunning, especially by moonlight. Indeed it was on that brightly moonlit night that our rug collection increased by a beautifully rich Ersari Turkoman hali serai - or palace carpet !

From Khiva we set out on a day-trip to Kunya-Urgench in Turkmenistan to view the archaeological ruins - the Turkrnenis, like the Tajiks, are also surly and seem very closed in comparison to the Uzbeks.Peter and I also visited a nature reserve in Karakalpakstan - the place of the black- hatted people - which is also to be found on the banks of the Arnu Oar'ya, incidentally the main river which feeds the Aral Sea, now a complete ecological disaster due to excessive drainage by Soviet engineers to irrigate an ever- increasing cotton production in Uzbeki.tan. the Uzbeks seem to be continuing in the same vein!

Karakalpakstan enjoys the status of an autonomous region within Uzbekistan, lying mainly in the Karakum desert - the desert of black sand. The reserve was not particularly inspiring, nor did we see any black-hatted people! The story goes that in the resurgence of nationalism and re- adoption of old symbols, they couldn't find anyone who remembered what the black hat looked like!

We returned to Tashkent in a creaking propeller-driven aeroplane, completely overweight - rugs weigh so much - except for our very selves: the rich Uzbek cuisine played havoc with each of us from time to time, and can be recommended in place of a visit to a fat farm I We were not enamoured of Tashkent particularly, and spent a few days with some friends there - Michael and Felicity Timcke - enjoying a welcome respite after ten days of travel in hot and dusty climes. The Museum of Applied Arts is certainly worth a visit.

The fact that when we got to the airport and discovered that we had been soldtickets for flights that did not exist, nor had they ever existed, and with Simoneta then being arrested on arrival in Moscow, after we finally managed to leave Tashkent, for not having a visa, is another charming twist to our sojourn - the joys of travelling in the former Soviet Union!

Peter had by this time already arrived in England, having had the foresight to use a European airline.

While the Soviets have destroyed much since the twenties, one wonders how much the Uzbeks would have preserved: the borders were drawn artificially under Stalin anyway ... one also wonders how democracy and increasing globalisation will change the region - not always for the better, we feel!

And so we visited Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Karakalpakstan and Turkmenistan, having stopped on the way in Tatarstan .. almost like a nursery rhyme ... and popped across borders with seemingly no control a simply wonderful holiday, and completely different from the gracious and beautiful St Petersburg