Moving

We stayed the last night in Uzbekistan in a place quite close to the airport. Had to escape from the last place. Shudder! 

Lots of local uzbecs use it. It is only a couple of km from the airport. Very clean, friendly staff. Almost a haven.

Got chatting to an Uzbek chap who works in Air traffic control. He was in Tashkent for his annual medical and physiological evaluation. Have to be tested every year apparently. Invited us to dinner. Regretfully had to decline as we had to be up at 5 am. Other reason (which we didn't mention) was that  we didn't want to risk the local cuisine.

I know that you should eat all of the animal if you butcher it, but we both draw the line at a slaughtered horses anus. And no I am not joking!! Apparently resembles a canned slice of pineapple, only a different colour.
So our meal for the evening consisted of cheese wedges, bread and tomatoes.

We did enjoy a lot of what Uzbekistan had to offer. There were things that we did not enjoy. Think that three weeks was too long, ten days to two weeks would have been enough. Independent travel is much more difficult than doing a package. Food is an issue, a bit like eating tripe and onions for a week. Have to be careful with unscrupulous shop keepers. 
Lots of jobs, but most of them seem pointless. A kind of 'make work'. Polish the park bin; brush up piles of leaves; pull weeds up from the cracks in the pavement, full not real employment.

Had a sample of central Asia, not the most blessed of places. Can see why it was a (silk/spice) road and not a destination. Don't think that we will be going back anytime soon. 
The people are hospitable and friendly. The history and architecture both interesting and stunning.

In summary, not for the fainthearted.

A four and a half hour flight to Turkey.
Turkish Airlines now use a massive new airport, about an hours coach trip away from Istanbul. All new motorway style roads between the two. Easy and inexpensive if you use the coaches.

Arrived in the Sultanahmet area of Istanbul, famous for the blue mosque, the Hagia Sophia, and Basilica Cistern. Lots of other stuff as well. Staying at the Buhara family Inn, right in the middle of that area.

After a pleasent meal now relaxing with a cold beer over looking the Sea of Marmara from our private balcony. Feels a bit like R&R (rest and recuperation) after a physical and mental ordeal.

So now we play a bit in Istanbul. Visit sites we missed last time, and revisit those that gave us pleasure the last time we were here. Off to see a show of whirling Dervishes tonight, followed by a fish dinner. It is the season for sardines, yum yum.
Well that's about it for now.

Leave you with some photos. View of the Sea of Marmara from our balcony: Blue Mosque: Square in Sultanahmet: Fresh sardine with salad baguettes on the quay side. 

House of mirrors.

Anvars guest House. Could belong in any fairground attraction. Let's call it the House of Mirrors. Perhaps even the house of horrors. Mike keeps seeing what looks like a crinckly old man staring at him. Only to realise it's his own reflection. He keeps trying to shoo it away!

The place is reflectively massive, it just seems to go on forever. It is a world of a thousand splintered reflections. Mirrors are everywhere. Where windows should be, mirrors. On doors, walls, everywhere is a mirror. A narcissist wet dream.

We open our door, apartment number 4 and find ourselves in a retro nightmare. Or is it retro hell. This is actually their star accommodation, touted as an apartment, two double bedrooms, a sitting room, and fully fitted bathroom. Seems they have over booked and so we pay the same price as per one of their smaller rooms, which in itself is not cheap. If this is the best they can offer then we are not sure what other guests are putting up with.

A big sitting room, matching arm chairs opposite a matching sofa. Bare wooden floor boards spread with overlapping carpets, trip hazards are everywhere. A ceiling light pretending to be a chandelier, and, of course, one wall almost a complete mirror doubling the apparent size of the room, it now looks twice as ugly. We now see four identical chairs, and two identical sofas.

Two double bedrooms. A double bed and a single bed in each. Identical wardrobes, bare wooden floorboards with identical overlapping carpets. A mirror image. Begin to wonder if there is a theme. Perhaps Anvar has a twin. Or we have fallen down the rabbit hole, well certainly some hole.

The bathroom has a tardis looking shower cubicle. It looks like it has just materialised there. Of course there are mirrors everywhere, almost on every available surface. Sit on the toilet and there you are, the only safe place to look is the filthy floor. Had to kick the bathroom carpet into a corner as it worse than the floor, didn't want our shoes to get too filthy. 

To late for a change, have to make the best of it for now. 

The thin wall that separates bathroom from sitting room has two windows at the top of this wall. Closer inspection reveals one of the windows is missing, just a great big hole. Any noise, smells etc enters the living room.

Most places we have been to are spotless, outside footwear is taken off before you enter. No so at Anvars, I should say wellingtons are in order. All in all quite awful.

We sleep within our own liners, Mike's is cotton, while Yvonne brought her silk one with her. Apart from Yvonne using hers on a cold night in the mountain village, It is the first time we have used them on this trip. There is only a bottom sheet on the bed, although at least clean. A dusty smell In the room, in fact the bed has what looks and feels like a carpet as a bed spread, closer inspection reveals it to be a bonifida carpet.
After a search we find a couple of quilts. These also seem clean. 

So while we have the mirrors, could have done with some smoke or rather a deep clean and fumigation. Even that would not be enough to make this place fit for human habitation.

Feels like the only guests are the ones that like to feed on humans. Must be the second worst itchy and scratchy we have ever stayed in. So bad that we are forced to abandon on the second day. While it may be colder to sleep on the street, it would probably be cleaner. Yet people have recommended this excuse of a place. What is wrong with them!!

They have air con. Probably fitted during the soviet era, noisy and apparently never maintained. Wouldn't be surprised if they were belching toxic fumes everywhere. Next to our bedroom wall is the next rooms conditioner. Belching crap into our room via an excuse for our window, and very noisy. Seriously, this place should be condemned!!

Breakfast of fruit, pastries, juice, tea/coffee, fried egg, yoghurt and bread. No so bad.
An eclectic bunch of guests. Russian, Saudis, Italian, British, and others. Everyone looks like they are supposed to. Thick set Russian woman who looks like thunder; Saudi woman, a teacher of Arabic, proud that women can now drive cars in her home country, but too old or Conservative to learn herself; slender Italian woman, quick bird like movements and intelligent eyes, who lives in Cambridge. An Indian guy here on business who can't wait to leave. Join the club.

Mike has found his perfect vodka. It called Royal Elite, ultra premium vodka, 7 times distilled, 80 proof. Has all sorts of health warnings, yummy!
Also reports that rehydration is simply a matter of quantity. The more beer you drink the less you will care if you are dehydrated. Science in action. It also has the effect of turning this place into merely a shit hole.

One thing in its favour is that it has excellent WiFi. We use this to find another place that night. Leave the following morning. Fly out to Istanbul the following day.

Leave you with some photos. Bedroom one and two: sitting room: making our escape. 

Trains

While Khiva has its own railway station trains only run to and from places on even days of the week. Still trying to work that one out. If you want to catch a train any old day of the week then you need to get to Urgench railway station, so 30 odd miles away, and that is where we catch our first train to Bukhara. We then have a wait of 3 1/2 hours for our connection to Tashkent. The total distance is just under 1000 km, but at least we get a night's sleep on the way. Cheaper than a hostel. Fun, fun.

Those of you who who remember the style of carriage used in the 60's, 70's and part of the 80's may recall these had a corridor along one edge, and compartments with sliding doors inside of which are seats, luggage racks, and a window with curtains. Bingo, we are in one of those. The main difference is that above the luggage racks are a couple of TV monitors, one pointing back and the other forward. Nobody in the carriage is remotely interested in them. Some train official switched them on, one by one throughout our carriage, probably the whole train. 

One of the monitors in our compartment is defective, just showing some test screen. We have had a number of random people come in, fiddle for 5 mins, get no result, then wander off. Most bizarre.

Seats are reasonably comfortable, although very dusty, as are the windows, so the view is somewhat obscured. There are carriages with sleeper beds, but not worth it for a few hours, well about 6. This train goes on to Samarkand and if we were going there it would have been worth the sleeping berths.

As we look out of the dusty windows we see evidence of large scale pipe laying. Uzbekistan and surrounding regions have massive supplies of natural gas. The plan is to lay a pipeline all the way to China. Certainly the Uzbeks have a growing problem with their traditional exports of cotton and water melons. Large tracts of land are becoming polluted due to excessive use of fertilisers and pesticides, which in turn is leaching into the ground water. This causes the dry dusty desert to become increasingly saline, and with temperatures increasing a lot of land is now marginal and this is expanding each year.

There also seems to be a move away from using traditional building materials of bricks, wood and a mud and straw mix to using concrete and more concrete and yet more concrete. Lots of marble, marble stairs, marble paths, marble facing on concrete buildings, marble fountains (no actual water in most).

Caught our connection. A sleeper to Tashkent. It takes about 8 hours. Get given a package of clean sheets and pillow case. We have opposite upper bunks. Manage to get a few hours sleep.

A bit stiff so decide to walk to our guest house. About 3 miles, a good stretch of the old legs.
Stopped for a coffee and got chatting to a guy at the next table who was with his 16 year old son. Turns out he is a dipolmat from Saudi Arabia working at their embassy. Of course Yvonne was totally ignored 'is this your wife, does she take sugar?' etc... Mind you every male here seems to be a mesogenous.
In restaurants, on transport, in shops, just about any public space, it's the same. Middle East, Far East, Central Asia, South East Asia, most places it is a patriarchal world.
Education is making a difference but it's difficult to reconcile the 21st century to attitudes better suited to the 16 and 17th century. The hatred of men and boys is called misandry. Rant over.

Finally arrive at our guest house called 'Avar's guests', another male. His wife does all the work while he takes the money. Rant really over now.

A couple of photos. Yvonne just woken up; our carriage.

Khiva city

Khiva, a world heritage site, was established about 1500 years ago. The city is split into two parts, the inner city is surrounded by a high wall. This part has more than 50 historical monuments and a few hundred old houses, and many museums.

Outside of this inner-city there is a lot of development. Uzbekistan has high aspirations for future tourism, lots of hotels springing up.
I'm sure there will be a lot of opportunities for the import of soft mattresses...

It has quite a dark past with slave caravans, terrible desert journeys, and raiding Turkmen tribesmen.
Now its welcoming old silk road town that is well set up for tourism. Many tourist buses arrive for the day. Lots of imported Chinese stuff, passed off as local crafts, to buy. Some local crafts, but a whiff of smoke and blinding mirrors.

We are staying at a guest house called Do'ppi. It is either just in or just out of the old city, or right on the border between the two, possibly straddling. There are three guest rooms, so quite small. A family run affair. Breakfast is served in the hallway, but only two rooms can sit at the table at once. The table is only there for breakfast. Shared the table with a Russian couple who explained that they weren't from Moscow. In turn we explained that we weren't from London.

The rooms are very clean. Once again very hard mattresses. Mike rolled over in his sleep and banged his knee on it, making it difficult to climb up stairs (any excuse). At least the pillow is softer.
Unfortunately the walls dividing the rooms are so thin as to be acoustically irrelevant. I'm not sure about pins and dropping, more like ants farting. Talking of which is a lot safer for us now, passing wind with confidence that is.

You can buy antibiotics over the counter here so got Yvonne a course of ciprofloxacin, which hopefully will have the desired effect.
Needless to say there is a bit of a problem here with antibiotic resistant bugs now.

We leave here on Sunday to catch a couple of trains to Tashkent, not easy from Khiva, so have to get to Urgench, a fairly nearby transport hub. A total journey of just under 1000 km. Could fly, but at 10 times the cost, and Mike insists that crashing on the ground is much better than crashing into it. So in the process of procuring tickets.

Travelling around Uzbekistan is more difficult than the far east. It requires a lot more planning. The language barrier is a bit of a issue, but every one we meet bend over backwards to help. There is always a way (mostly).

It is a lot cooler this far north, max daytime temperature is 20°C down to 5°C at night. Decent for the UK, but a big drop for us compared to the south of Uzbekistan. As I write it is warmer in Sutton.

Spent the day exploring the city. Yvonne climbed up the tallest minaret in Khiva called the Islam Khoja, some 44 meters tall. 118 very narrow steps, no hand rails. Mike had had enough of stairs for one day, what with his dicky knee.

To gain access to the many museums there is an entrance fee. You can purchase an 'executive ticket' for around £15 each. Which is supposed to give access to all the sites. Don't hold your breath. Oh no sir this very special madras/mosque, separate fee.
Well, okay looks same same, walk away.

Went to the museum of music. Quite soundless. Saw a piano, a flute, very little information on traditional uzbec music.
Went to the museum of wild animals. Saw a hedgehog, a 'desert rat', and a badger. There were other stuffed animals, but not many you wouldn't see roaming the streets of any urban centre in the UK. Look, a fox!
And so on...

It's all very high tec. Turnstiles which open when you present your ticket with the bar code thingy to the reader. You can download an app to get information about what you are looking at from the little bar code thingy on a sign, next to the object you want to know about. Only you can't because you need a local sim and data. No alternative, no little written explanation. Quite frustrating.
Not sure it's because we are getting older, but it feels like some inexperienced students have brainstormed what they think is a really 'neat' idea. It all seems so silly and fallible.
Such a missed opportunity for some real history and culture from the region and Uzbekistan in general.
Have a distinct feeling that many visitors arrive with such anticipation, and leave in a haze of bewilderment, probably knowing less than they did before. Still, who cares if it brings in the dollars.

Had a pleasent meal in an uzbec restaurant just outside the old city, vodka and beer included, all for under a tenner. Must say the vodka is just fantastic, kind of peppery and easy to drink. A fine way to forget knee pains, and hopefully aid a good night's sleep. It makes some of the museums just about bearable. Having said that the buildings are stunning and worth it just for that.

Here are some photos. Our hostel; the tower that Yvonne climbed; kalta minor minaret; Street scene; Mike's bedroom, nah, the Khan's gaff. 

Khiva

Catch a train to Khiva in the Xorazm region, going Northwest, not far from the Turkmenistan boarder. Trains run every second day. A journey of about 240 miles.
Because of this had to spend another night and day in Bukhara. Didn't mind too much as it gave us an opportunity to visit one of the main working bazaars, as opposed to a tourist mock up. Here you can buy almost anything you might need. Every spice under the sun, all manner of fruits and vegetables, and miscellaneous random items. Want a camel saddle, no problem.

Both recovered enough to walk a few miles without desperation.
Bukhara is fine, but the old town is a bit of a tourist mill. Lots of Germans, French, a smattering of Americans, a number of Israelis, and 6 Brits. Almost all on some kind of tour.
Did meet a German student who has cycled across from Iran. He spends 4 months in the year cycling through different countries during university holidays. Averages just over 100 km a day.
Also an elderly couple from York who were delighted that the toilets here are mainly of European style and not a hole in the floor.

Bukhara In October the temperature can be as high 30°C during the day and as low as 8°C before the sun rises. Clear blue skies all day. Temperature drops to around freezing in November, December, and January. There is quite a contrast between the seasons, and different parts of the country. Almost twice the land area of the British Isles, with half the population.

Can get a strong wind which blows a lot of dust. The humidity is quite low so don't perspire much, moisture can just get sucked out. About the opposite of south east Asia. Just need to stay hydrated. Now some studies say beer does not rehydrate, and others say it does.
Mike has been vigorously testing this and will present his conclusions at the end of this trip...

Caught a local bus to the train station. Cost less than ten pence each. Cost up to a hundred times that in a taxi. No contest. Tickets for the train are around £9-10 each. You have to book in advance. 

The train takes around six hours. You are allocated seats in an allocated carriage. Each carriage has its own couple of stewards. You are not permitted to move from one carriage to the next.
The windows are very dusty, and after travelling through desert scrubland hour after hour you can see why.
Finally we arrive at Khiva. Noticed that it is at least a few degrees colder here. 

Some photos. Working market; Yvonne fully loaded; approaching Khiva walked city. 

Bukhara

We drive for some four hours. The roads vary from good to not quite as good, however in general they are well maintained.
Stop at a roadside shack where they sell freshly pressed pomegranate juice. Brought a litre for under £2, very tasty. A cup a day keeps the radicals away.

Got dropped off at our hostel, the Rumi which is on the border between the old and new city.
We are allocated a room with three single beds. It is clean, and the mattresses are merely very firm, in other words infinity more yielding. Joy of joys. So, with smiles, anticipating a better night's sleep, go off to explore.

Decide to celebrate with coffee and cake. Big mistake.
Our first bout of Uzbekistan tummy smashes us with a vengeance. Not so bad for Mike, he sort of anticipates this, but much worse for Yvonne. Whatever happens, under no circumstances think you are only going to pass wind!! The good news is we have an en suite toilet and shower.
Emerge some 36 hours later somewhat thinner. However we don't recommend this as a weight loss program.

Food for us is a bit of a problem as most dishes are meat based. So for a while it is bread, tea, water and banana, at least until solid reality returns.

Almost recovered we venture out to explore further. Mike decides fluid replacement also requires beer. Therfore makes a swift recovery, only to relapse later.

Bukhara is an ancient city on the Silk Road which contains hundreds of well-preserved mosques, madrassas, bazaars and caravanserais, dating largely from the 9th to the 17th centuries.
The 'Ark fortress' dates back to before 500 AD, according to written records. Destroyed and rebuilt many times. It is the oldest building in Bukhara. Recent excavations suggest that it in fact dates back to the 4 century BC.
Caravans would pass through the city loaded with silk and spices. Every year in May they hold a silk and spice festival to celebrate its heritage.

It has been a centre of learning for centuries. The old city is preserved, around it the new city has spread and is still under heavy development. It is home to one of the largest universities in Uzbekistan.
Approached more than a couple of times by university students asking us if we required assistance, so stop and have a chat and talk about this and that, where to eat, where to go. What we think about Uzbekistan, etc.

On the flip side as this is very much a tourist destination the local shop keeper is not beyond asking outrageous prices for basic commodities. Don't mind a bit of bartering but not our favorite pass time, and not going to barter for bananas.
Just about getting used to carrying a brick sized wad of currency around, and sorting out the different notes. A pound is worth about 11,500 Uzbekistan som. A 50,000 som note is worth £4.30.
Things are not as inexpensive as one might imagine, and the average Uzbek has the unshakeable idea that all tourists are super rich.
Some things are good value like transport costs (rail, buses, shared taxis) but only because those prices are stated and fixed.
To get into some of the historic buildings there are two prices, one for locals, and up to ten times that for tourists.
A pot of chi (tea) can cost as little as 1000 som, or as much as 16000, depending where you go. Tea is black or green, no sugar or milk is taken. If a price is not stated it is wise to enquire before you consume.
Nothing quite like killing the goose that lays the golden egg. Don't mind a fair price, despise a rip off.

Leave you with some photos. Ark fortress; one of many mosques; Yvonne in berber hat; Tim Abdullah trading bazaar.

Sentob

We spend a night in the mountain village of Sentob at Rahia's guesthouse.
It's a couple of miles along a rough track, just wide enough for a car or cart. Unstable looking cliffs on one side, drops to the ravine on the other. Not to worry, we still had our very safe driver!

Our room is very basic. A bed with an iron like mattress on top of which is laid a thin bed roll, at least the pillows aren't totally impractical. No wardrobes or bedside tables, not even a hook.
The toilet is under the bedroom. Go outside down some steps and enter through a half height door. There is an open shower in an adjacent room, and even, strangely, a small sauna, the exhaust pipe of which goes up, and through the corner of our bedroom above. Wherever that is supplementary heating or a potential death trap via monoxide poisoning can be debated. Left the one small double glazed, air tight window open just in case.

Lunch was an assortment of pickled vegetables, and an unspecified meat and noodle soup with bread.

The owners eleven year old son was instructed to show us around the village by his father and insisted that we go. Son was somewhat reluctant but turned out fine after settling into the task.

We were not the only guests. A family of five Americans arrived; 81 year old dad, middle aged children, one female, three males. Sharing the toilet and small sink.

Like most countries in Central and the far East toilet paper is a fairly new thing.
This is not like soft, bum caressing tissue, but strechy, rough crepe paper. You know, the sort you make Christmas decorations from. More like an industrial sand paper.
Consequently the sewer system is not designed to cope with it. The answer is to put your used paper into a bucket by the toilet. Now there is a right way and a wrong way to do this. The wrong way is to wipe and drop, the right way is to wipe, fold and drop.
All very well if you are not suffering from gastroenteritis....
For the delicate minded I won't go into graffic detail, but someone, not us, made that one toilet into a bio hazard.

Dinner is an alfresco affair given that there is nowhere inside to eat. Out come the pickled vegetables, and plov. It is 19.00 hrs, quite chilly, the temperature drops rapidly in the hills. And then it's dark.
Difficult to go for a walk due to the many hazards underfoot. So retire to basic room. Sit/lie on unyielding bed. Then lie/sit on unyielding bed. Hope toilet is back to usable state.

In the morning a newish car arrives. Pleasent young driver who doesn't understand English. Say goodbye to our host. Tell him what a wonderful night we endured.
Off we go on a four hour drive to Bukhara, our next port of call.
Ask driver, in a mime, to sort seat belt in the back (have to wear seat belts by law, but the Uzbeks are reluctant to wear them). As he is doing this, pulling down the back seat to get at them, notice that there is a very large gas tank taking up most of the rear of the car. Gas is cheaper than petrol. So effectively we are being driven in what amounts to be a large bomb. With that in mind I suppose seat belts are rather irrelevant.
Did wonder why all passengers had to get out of the car at filling stations. These stations look like bunkers and have reinforced concrete walls separating one filling point from another. Now know the reason, if a vehicle explodes in one bunker only the driver is killed!!

Leave you with some photos. Our room;entrance to guesthouse; part of village; background. 

Lake Aydarkul

After breakfast of fried egg and boiled egg, bread cheese, black tea and biscuits we are picked up by a battered old car with no seat belts in the rear. 'no need sir/madam, very careful driver', exclaimed the man from the tour guide who was there to collect payment for our two day excursion.
The four of us set off into the desert on a three hour journey to lake Aydarkul, which is close to the boarder with Kazakhstan. These lakes are man made, and a by product of soviet planning. 

Miles and Miles of desert scrubland, crisscrossed with the odd rutted track, and the occasional shack for goat, and horse herders. Wasn't worried about the car breaking down as Mike had his trusty umbrella for sun or rain. Seems whenever we venture into a desert it rains, and today was no exception! Apparently the first rain for some time.
Lucky us!

The desert has a strange soundless quality to it. I say strange because we rarely experience it. It brings to mind the song by America, 'A Horse with no name'.
We both could have stayed there for days. It is both intense and liberating.
There are herds of sheep and goats. These are black wool and much larger than the eurepean ones. During the spring months 2 meter long lizards suck the milk from them, and at the same time poison the animal. 
There are also lots of tortoises around the lake. 

As it was we arrive at lake Aydarkal, Potter about for an hour or so, and drive back towards the hills and low mountains on our way to the next village where we are to spend the night.

Leave you with some photos of the desert and lake, and a stock photo of lizard. 

Asraf village

Had a pleasent three days in Samarkand, just about right for the sites and markets. Time to move on. Arranged for a two day stay in a couple of villages in the mountains not far from the Kazakhstan boarder, close to lake Aydar. First a small village called Asraf.
Situated in a valley with a small stream, walnut trees, and an abundance of wild flowers and rose bushes. Has accommodation designed for us tourists, showers, toilets and a communal eating area. Sitting on a tapchan (low table on a dias with cushions), listening to the birds and goats.

The drive here took about three and a half hours moving further into wilder desert like terrain until hitting the hills and mountains. If you think of the wild west you will have some idea of what it looks like.
The main roads are quite rough and bumpy with pot holes constantly repaired, like a badly patched quilt, reminiscent of local council road repairs in the UK.
Then off the main roads and onto tracks better suited for tracked vehicles. Something it seems our local councils can only aspire to. I'm sure they will get there soon.

Out on the flat desert like plains it is hot and very dusty even at this time of year, approaching high twenties, while here in the hills, and especially in the valleys a very comfortable 20°C

Internet and phone access is difficult to non existence in these rural communities. Using a local sim helps for Mobile phones. So posting stuff has to wait until we get to urban centres.

Some photos: landscape where we are staying for a night; tea under a walnut tree; Yvonne at the top, in the valley below is part of the village.

Samarkand

Caught a train from Tashkent to the old city of Samarkand. On the old silk road linking China to the Mediterranean. Famous for its mosques and mausoleums.

One thing about the people from Uzbekistan, they are unfailingly polite and courteous. The young give up their seats for the elderly on public transport, they want to engage in conversation to improve their English, they have a 6 day school week, and look healthy and physically fit. The adults are as polite, although the men are often rotund.

So we arrive at Samarkand Station after three and a half hours, about 200 miles. Are asked very politely if we want a taxi by the drivers. Mike asked where the 73 bus leaves from, gets a civil reply and directions (try that of a taxi driver in India). Catch the bus which costs a flat rate of 1400 som or 12 pence. We know roughly where the guest house is. It takes us 30 minutes on the bus and a 5 minute walk, bump into a seemingly random person who politely asks if we need directions. He turns out to be the proprietor of the guest house we are seeking. 
Place is behind big double doors, an inset door reveals an open courtyard with rooms on three sides. We sit on a raised platform, cushions, low table, chi all round with fresh honey, watermelon, biscuits, in the cool. Listening to a couple of canaries in a cage, Job done!

The mattresses in this part of the world seem to be made of concrete, to say they are firm is an under statement. There is absolutely no give. This may be good for ones back, but like most therapies takes a while.
So after a mixed night's sleep we have breakfast of fruit, yoghurt, cheese, very small boiled eggs (could be canary), tea and bread. Off we trot to explore.

Samarkand, possibly founded 6 or 7th century BC, is one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in Central Asia. Famous for embroidery, gold embroidery, silk weaving, engraving on copper, ceramics, carving and painting on wood. It is a crossroads of cultures.
This time of the year is cool at around 22-28 °C, for us just about right. For the locals it is quite cool. It can be above 40, and as low as - 35, so a great time to visit.

There are a number of  Madrasas established for astronomical observations and learning, for philosophy and religion. The main religion is Islam, then the Russian orthodox Church, followed by Christians and the Armenian Church. However, many are atheist. Since independence people are able to express their views openly.

The mausoleum known as Gur-i Amir is popular as a setting for one's wedding. It is like a production line. Brides in their wedding gowns, grooms in tuxedo's and suits. One street is dedicated to all the needs of couples, from flowers to wedding attire, hairdressers and barbers, nails and marriage guidance counselling (just kidding about the last). 
Happy brides and shell shocked grooms, or happy grooms and desperate brides.

Mike went looking for the equivalent of the off licence. You can buy alcohol, vodka of course, and an Uzbekistan beer which has about the same alcohol content as a bottle of wine, 10-12% proof. 
Mike had a couple of pints without realising this at a local Plov place (explain in a bit) in Tashkent, and couldn't understand why his legs didn't work for a while. He even put his bad head down to the heat. Still, lesson learned, stick to vodka.

Plov is a Uzbekistan dish of pilau rice with beef strips and garlic. Lots of meat is eaten here, and the word vegetarian is as alien as it is in France. If you happen to be a vegan your luck is out, you may as well be a Vogan from Vogsphere. Even the vegetarian dish of noodles has meat in it. 
One local dish is made from the shin and hoof of a cow. Still, early days!

I will leave you with some photos. Plov; Gui-i Amir. 

Uzbekistan

Got to Istanbul where we change planes. Got offered 400 euros each to catch a later flight to Uzbekistan as our flight was overbooked. Well who wouldn't, oh and a free dinner.
Mind you this is Turkey, smoke and mirrors. Just as the first flight was about to leave, and Mike was in the duty free wondering what to spend his windfall on, we were told that all arrangements were off and we had to run. Apparently it was no longer overbooked. Yippee. Even more joy when Mike found himself sitting next to a young man (anyone under the age of 40) who's breath smelt of fermented Yaks milk.
After 4 hours we arrive in Tashkent. The young man was met by a person who looked like they herded yaks for a living, funny old world.
We were met by the owner of the hostel we were to stay at. Noticed that all the cars were Chevrelot, white or black. Apparently any other imported new car is subject to 100% import charge.
We are knackered and just want to get to bed, but our host decides we definitely need a whistle stop tour at 1.30 am. We planned to stay for 3 nights, turns out that a whistle stop tour, and a day in the underground about covers Tashkent.

It is the capital city. Under soviet planning, wide 6 Lane straight avenues, 3 up and 3 down; great for soviet tanks, some brutal soviet architecture, and big impressive soviet style bronze statues. All changed with independence in September 1991. Statue of Lenin and other heroes removed, replaced with Uzbek heroes. Lenin Square becomes Independence Square (Mustaqillik Maydoni).
Fortunatly there is still quite a lot of the old city left. You can access most of it from the underground metro system, built in 1977.
Been extended twice since, and is still being developed. Was to double as a place of refuge in case of a nuclear war. You can still see evidence of meter thick blast doors in the old part of the system.

Leave you with some photos. Independence Square;Soviet style road; Metro.