Hand On Heart - Last Uzbek Days

11 to 14 Oct, 2022 - Tashkent - (Uzbekistan)



Our final blog entry for this trip (which, depending how you measure, has been 6 weeks in Central Asia, or 21 months since we left Australia). Currently, we're in transit at Istanbul airport, which is pretty much totally the wrong direction from Tashkent to anywhere in Australia, but the flight options out of Central Asia are not bountiful when heading to our Great Southern Land.

So, the end of the trip was very low key back in Tashkent. Some great meals, a few sights, a self created tour visiting many metro statons, and some time to repack our bags. Also, we needed a bit more time each day as Jo had a couple of job interviews to attend, via Zoom.

The final story, before the final pictures, is the beautiful gesture that accompanies a greeting or a thank you. Placing the right hand over your heart as you say hello, and especially when thanking someone, is an extra sign of respect. The best part is, that even works when you don't say anything. A young boy, around 8 or 10, riding his bicycle past us smiled, so we smiled and waved back. He did not say a word, but just put his hand on his heart as he continued past. It was so lovely and touching, and an exceptionally welcoming sign. "Hand on heart" now has a new meaning for us.

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May Peace Prevail on Earth
Japanese and German POW graves in Tashkent. Before coming here, and reading up about this part of history, we did not know that after the war, these people were not allowed to return directly to their homes and families. Despite being the "losers" in the war, we assumed that once over, surrender signed, repatriation of prisoners to their homes would have been a human right. So, for us, visiting here, and remembering that these people died, still as prisoners, AFTER the war, was both sobering and enlightening. They were required to stay for many years, and to help with the rebuilding efforts. The photo is from the small Japanese section. There are a dozen or so Japanese POW cemeteries around Uzbekistan. Nearby was a German section, which was smaller again.


Monument of Courage Earthquake Memorial
This is translated as "Monument of Courage Earthquake Memorial". In 1966, Tashkent was largely flattened by an earthquake, which although not terribly strong, was destructive due to its shallow nature and the fact that the epicentre was right under the city. The death toll was not incredibly high, but there were hundreds of thousands rendered homeless. The cracked stone with date and time are intriguing and say something. That is why I chose to include the photo. The statue itself is not be related to the earthquake itself - just striving too hard to be an acceptable Socialist artwork from Soviet times. And the images behind it also seemed rather random. To me it was odd, and explains why the translation calls it a "monument", with "memorial" almost tacked on as an afterthought. I found it more confusing than it should have been, and therefore less moving than I had anticipated.


A Toast to the Host
Back in Tashkent, and back with Caroline. A wonderful home for us to crash at while in the Uzbek capital. So chill and stress-free to stay with her. Tonight's dinner is Georgian, with double cheese kachapuri , eggplant and walnut rolls, and a bottle of red to get us started.


Watchwoman – Сторожиха
Сторожиха, 1955, by Fadeev Valentin Aleksandrovich. Relaxing with her tea, but still fully aware of keeping an eye out. What or whom for? A one-off reason to be careful, or a regular task? Was the tea green tea or black, and did it have lemon? Despite those unanswered questions, the painting still says so much, capturing a character wonderfully.


Homeless Fire Victims
Tragedy, eloquently captured on canvas.


Chilonzor
Our self created Tashkent metro tour began at Chilonzor. Grand light fittings, and many beautiful panels depicting life in Uzbekistan.


Yunus Rajabiy
Yunus Rajabiy is an interchange station in the Tashkent metro system. The steps from the other line come down mid platform, allowing appreciation of the tall hall, its columns and light fittings.


Bodomzor
The platform at Bodomzor metro station had these great light fittings, reminiscent of 1960s bar stools.


Mustakilik Maydoni
We split our Tashkent metro exploring over two days. This elegant platform is where we finished on day one, near Independence Square. Mustakilik Maydoni.


Bunyodkor
Bunyodkor, formerly Khalqiar Dustligi. This panel with pomegranates stood out. This station was the closest to Caroline's apartment, and where we began day 2 on the Tashkent metro.


Pakhtakor
Pakhtakor is another interchange station. The tiling here seems to mimic a fabric, more than a traditional tiling pattern.


Alisher Navoi
Alisher Navoi is the partner interchange station to Pakhtakor. Rows of beautifully patterned domed ceilings\, over the tracks and over the platform.


Uzbekistan
Uzbekistan station was not a planned stop. When the train pulled up, we decided to hop out and wait for the next one. The giant tulip-like lamps were the standout feature.


Kosmonavtlar
Well, the best was saved for last. Kosmonavtlar, with panels celebrating cosmonauts. Unexpectedly, the panels were quite human, almost soft, and just a touch playful. Not at all what we anticipated from a Soviet era creation. It was a fine end to our home-made Tashkent Metro expore.

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Karakalpakstan Republic

8 to 11 Oct, 2022 - Nukus, Moynaq - (Uzbekistan)



In the western part of Uzbekistan is the large and sparsely populated Republic of Karakalpakstan. It is a largely self governing and significantly autonomous region, but it lacks the right to secede. The capital of this Republic of around 2 million is Nukus, with a bit of an outpost feeling to it. Relatively low density population, dry and dusty, absence of high rise, and the long drive through barren flat landscapes to get there. The apparent reality for Karakalpakstan is that it is a mineral rich area of the country, but it is the poorest.

The residents, though, seem proud. We chatted to a few, and they definitely identify as Karakalpak, not as Uzbek. Some of the online bits we read highlighted the contentious nature of the relationship - from both perspectives the opinions are strongly held.

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Soviet Avant-Garde
The Savitsky Collection, from what I gather, contains more than 80,000 artworks, most banned or frowned upon during the Soviet times. Especially during Stalin's time at the helm of the USSR, the only acceptable art form was "socialist realism" - art which showed communism in a positive way, showed ideal citizens living and working for the common good, and always showed an optimistic present and future. Strength, health, work, and benefits should be features of the art. In a little corner of the Union, in the desert of current Karakalpakstan Repubilc (ostensibly part of Uzbekistan), Savitsky gathered together his substantial collection of controversial art. Creators of these works were likely to suffer persecution and anonymity for their efforts. Far from the watchful eye of Moscow, and with good rapport with the local community, he even got support to create spaces to exhibit these works, which were taboo in the rest of the USSR. It is now considered one of the great collections of works from Soviet artists, most who may have remained anonymous had Savitsky not gathered and protected them.

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A few hundred kilometres north of Nukus is the former fishing port of Moynaq. Moynaq's fall, and the disappearance of the Aral Sea, is a minor parallel with what has happened to the whole Karakalpakstan Republic. Elsewhere, the necessary inputs are being syphoned and drained off, leaving little to flow here, resulting in a gradual but inevitable dwindling and withering. Not just the water, and not just financial, but it seems this corner of the world is struggling to make ends meet with leftovers.

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Rusting Ship, and No Water
Scores of kilometres, 80 or more, from the current shoreline of the Aral Sea. Moynaq was a fishing village in the 1950s and 60s, canning tonnes of fish every day. Over the decades, the Soviet agricultural developments started overusing the water from the feeder rivers. Primarily cotton, but it seemed too easy to keep diverting more and more water to irrigate dry and arid lands, not realising the long term consequences. Now, somewhere between 80% and 90% of the original water sources have disappeared. The sea is now less than 20% of its early 20th century size. Increased salinity means fish struggle to live in what remains. And these skip skeletons decay in the sun and sand as a stark monument to the sea which is gone, and will likely never return.


The Ship Graveyard
This was the only wooden boat that we saw. The timber was deteriorating fast. Not much was left of the deck, other than rows of rusting bolts with no planks left underneath. But a sizeable boat it still was.


Truly a Ship
Many of these were boats, but some of them, truly are small ships. There was something so powerful seeing these decaying hulks, so at odds with their purpose and function.

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I want to finish with some observations about driving and cars, right across both parts of Uzbekistan, as well as Kazakhstan. Firstly, totally unpredictably, the most represented brand of car on the roads is Chevrolet. I have received no explanation as to how or why this is the case. Secondly, not unexpectedly, the cars are for the most part, white. Maybe 85% white, about 10% black, maybe 4% grey, and about 1 in every 100 cars is another colour. Our taxi will be white? Oh yes, what a surprise.

Moreso here than in Kazakhstan, but the majority of vehicles use methane. Methane stations line the highways. They are characterised by concrete walls between the fuelling bays, and there is an absolute prohibition on passengers in cars while refilling, both pointers to the increased volatility while pumping the gas. Some trucks and buses drive with a row of gas cylinders on their roofs or behind their cabs, looking like a row of missiles on a fighter jet.

Drivers here seem to have an aversion to wearing their seatbelts. On the long stretches of the highways, most of our drivers would not bother, but as they approached town, or a checkpoint, reach over and pull it on. As we exited through, the police check area, they slipped instantly out of their belts.

Finally, the issue of speed. In Uzbekistan we had a couple of drivers who drove at sane speeds, most drove at insane speeds, but at least showed some control about tailgating and passing, and a few nuts who had us fearing for our lives. Uzbek highways, though, are practically lined with cameras. The co-existance of the speeding behaviour and large number of detection devices is made possible by detectors. Some drivers with multiple, but most drivers with at least one. On the dashboard, every now and then, a warning sound would emit, or a digital voice in Russian (with one or two understandable words, either "camera" or "radar"). Our driver would snap on his hazard lights to avoid having the speeding driver behind running into our tail, and brake quite hard till, so we were doing half the speed now, and we would crawl through the speed trap. Once in the clear, as quickly as they could take off their seatbelt, we could be back at the prior speed again.

Khiva Little, Khiva Lot, Exploring Ichon-Qala

6 to 8 Oct, 2022 - Khiva - (Uzbekistan)


We chose to use the train to get to Khiva, since it is connected with Bukhara by multiple services a day. Late booking again limited our choices, and we ended up on an overnighter in the general sleeper, which was comfortable enough, and travelled at a pretty good time (departing close to midnight, arriving 8 am, with one stop around 7 in Urgench). There was another train at a similar time, going the other direction, and the lack of signage meant that, despite checking, we still went to sleep wondering what would happen if we woke up and found we had travelled 8 hours in the wrong direction. Not a really viable possibility, but still, a part of me was quite relieved to wake up in the right place.

A friend had rated Khiva as her favourite place in Central Asia when she had visited, not too long ago. It did not disappoint. It was beautiful. My criticism is that it felt a little too perfect - the streets of the old town had plenty of stalls with art and textiles, but there was a distinct lack of regular businesses - minimarkets, barbers, phone shops - hardly anything that a resident would need. The sights were close together, well maintained, and development controlled. Modern additions were disguised (airconditioners behind wooden screens, no antennae, no overhead wiring). Lots of guesthouses and hotels (generally beautiful and well blended), a few (maybe not enough) restaurants and cafes, and way too many souvenier sellers. Everything perfect for a visitor, but it struggled to feel like a lived in city.


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Morning Approach to Khiva
We came on the overnight train from Bukhara, arriving at the very respectable time of 8 a.m. Khiva train station is east of the old centre, known as Ichon-Qala. So our pleasant walk to town accompanied the growing light on the walls, minarets, and domes.


Jo and the Towering Islom Hoja Minaret
Reminiscent of a light house, this is Uzbekistan's tallest. It is also the most recent built Islamic monument in Ichon-Qala, at a very young 112 years old.


Pahlavon Mahmud Mausoleum
Distinguished telework in the mausoleum of Khiva's patron saint, a 13th century poet, philosopher, and wrestler. Mulpiple pilgrims chose to ignore the signs asking visitors to not bow to the tombs, or kiss them, but nobody seemed interested in enforcing the posted requests. Thankfully there were no attempts to carry out the equally prohibited act of animal sacrifice.


Wall Burials
I don't know if it was law or superstition, but there was a time when anyone who died in the city had to be buried within the walls, and if a person were to perish while away, their body could not be brought in. These graves along the walls were probably for people who were supposed to rest within, but they met their demise while away, so this was the closest burial spot that could be used.


Atmospheric Juma Mosque
Hundreds of wooden pillars in the cool dark interior of this Khiva mosque create a calming and reflective mood. Some of the columns have come from the earliest mosque on this site, making them over 1000 years old.


Ichon-Qala Bathes in Late Afternoon Light
At the western end of town, from the watchtower in the old inner fortress.


Full Moon and Kalta Minor
The squat Kalta Minor Minaret was destined to be much taller. The death of the sponsor meant work stopped, and the project never resumed.

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Plov Sofi and Homemade Osh

2 to 6 Oct, 2022 - Bukhara - (Uzbekistan)



Bukhara, another beautiful historic city in Uzbekistan. While the trip from Termez was a relatively long 6 or so hours, having a few nights gave us opportunity to recover and chill. We stayed in a guesthouse which was formerly a guesthouse - actually a 19th century caravansaray, with an atmospheric octagonal inner courtyard.

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Walls of the “Ark”, Bukhara’s Fortress
Greatly damaged when the Soviets took Bukhara, the Ark is still undergoing renovations. Built and expanded over many centuries, it became the compound for the palace, until the decision was made to absorb Bukhara in to the USSR.


Entrance to the Ark
The western entrance is the only entrance left to this fortress.


Ismail Samoni Mausoleum
Beautiful terracotta brickwork, where even the shadows come to life, bringing depth and interest to the exterior.


Looking out from Kalon Mosque
Taken from in the grounds of the Kalon Mosque, Bukhara. The Kalon Minaret, a beautiful 12th century tower, is clearly visible, and to the left is one dome from Mir-i-Arab Madrasa.


Breakfast at our Caravansary Hotel
Our hotel is a 19th century caravansary, with a cute octagonal inner courtyard.


Indian Inspired Chor Minor Madrassah
Historical landmark building in Bukhara.


A Random House Museum we Passed
Walking the streets of Bukhara, an elderly man gestured us in to his ramshackle home filled with curios and odd items from many different eras. Nothing formal - it was just his house, He showed us up ladders to his roof for some views over the town.


Terrace View while Sipping Tea
Looking out at the domed roofs of the bazaar, the Kalon Minaret, the Mir-I-Arab Madrasa turquoise dome. In the foreground, the Ulugbeg Madrasa on the right and the Abdulaziz Khan Madrasa on the left create bookends for our vista.

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At lunch, we found ourselves at a restaurant known for its plov - a Central Asian variant of a biryani, usually with lamb. We were not quite getting our timing right, generally, for plov, as it is made in batches. Good plov restaurants seem to only serve it at lunch time, and since we are beginning most days with a pretty hearty breakfast, lunch is often being skipped or replaced with a light snack. The queue was long, but the turnover high, indications of a highly rated plov. Two Uzbek ladies gestured for us to share the table with them, and after some introductions, they recommended the plov sofi and a jug of cherry compote.

Asal was the name of the daughter, and her excellent English meant we could talk about lots of things. So, we found out that plov and osh are two names for the same dish. But osh sofi and osh are different. Would we like to come to their house tomorrow, where they could treat us to a proper, homemade osh? Did we have to think before answering?

The following day, a pin was sent to us. They lived about 20 minutes drive from Bukhara centre, but conveniently for us, they were 2 minutes from the train station, and us with an overnight train to catch, it could not have been more convenient. We ate osh, drank tea, enjoyed chocolate cake in celebration of her aunt's birthday. We went out and about with Asal, and relaxed in their home until it was time to go to the station.

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Osh with Asal and her Family
We met Asal (third along) in a restaurant in Bukhara, with her mother. The place was crowded, and they offered to share their table with us. We got talking, and by the time we finished, they had invited us to their home. So the next day, we came, and they made this feast, with an amazing version of the ubiquitous local dish, osh, also called plov.


Tomb of Shaykh Baha-ud-Din


On the Roof, Dvorets Emira Bukharskogo
Close to the home of Asal, actually in Kogon. We visited this old palace, with an interesting mix of eastern and western architecture.


Learning to Play Chess
In a corner room of the Dvorets Emira Bukharskogo. Close to the front, chess was being taught and played, further back was a bit more anarchic.

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Uzbek Serenity

26 Sep to 2 Oct, 2022 - Samarkand, Shakhrisabz, Termez - (Uzbekistan)



As a visitor lacking any common language with the locals, there are certain vulnerabilities. One that we are especially wary of is overcharging. While this can happen even when you can converse, using misunderstandings is a common tactic to squeeze you for more money. In the end, the misunderstanding may have been genuine and we never want someone else to miss what they are due if the communication failure has occurred.

On this trip, we have never felt unsafe. We have seen multiple examples of honesty and good will. We have bargained for purchases, and regardless of whether we agree on a price or not, have always parted on good terms with smiles.

We had one taxi driver try to decline our tip, wanting to round down instead because he didn't have the correct change. I observed a customer and waitress arguing over money, trying to push some cash in to each other's hands. Every deal we struck was honoured and completed unbegrudgingly.

Heading west from Tashkent to Samarkand, we took the train. Our intention was to take the high speed service, but only one day before, most services were full, and ended up on a leg if a much longer sleeper service.

Four days was a nice amount of time for this fascinating city. Unhurried visits to the main sights, some shopping, and plenty of time to linger over meals or cay (chai).

One day, after visiting the museum of the ancient city ruins, we decided to shortcut back to the new town, only to find ourselves clambering down the remains of the old city walls, ending up wedged between them, the cemetery, an express way, and a drainage channel.

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Registan, at Night
Sublime and dignified. The three madrasahs which now make up the Registan in Samarkand, Uzbekistan. Although the name, in reality, relates to the square which these buildings were built around, it has now become synonymous with the buildings themselves.


Registan, Disneyfied
There are numerous criticisms in books and on websites about the "Disneyfication" that is occurring to various monuments in Uzbekistan. This was not as bad as we expected (and not as bad as this photo might suggest). There was stirring music, culturally appropriate and not too loud, while the lights changed colour and "danced" along the rows of arches. That said, although I didn't reel in horror or disgust, I don't know if it added anything to our enjoyment. On other evenings, when it was simply lit, the subtle details were more prominent, and the overall feel was certainly more dignified.


Registan by Day
Staying in Samarkand for four nights meant we had ample visits past this view. Some days, we crossed here multiple times. It was wonderful to enjoy the changing moods of the shifting shadows.


Repairing a Leaning Tower
Well, if you go back to our other photos, you will see there are some leans. From some places in the grounds, you struggle to see anything that looks perfectly vertical. However, seeing this photo from the 1930s made us appreciate that, in comparison, we can probably call the current angles as "near enough".


Ceiling Selfie, Registan
In Tilla-Kari Madrasah, the "Gold Covered" Madrasah. This is the middle madrasah in the Registan. The ceiling is a beautiful kaleidoscope, and standing in the middle staring up, one starts to lose orientation of up and down…

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While the Ragistan is king of tourist sights in Samarkand, it is not alone. There is a lot more to this city than most first realise.

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Gur-e-Amir Mausoleum, Samarkand
Another highlight sight of Samarkand. This Mausoleum contains, amongst others, the remains of Timur. He is often described as a tyrant, after ransacking his way through much of the reachable world, from norther India through to Iran. Much of the plunder, though, returned to this part of the world, including craftspeople. So he is also remembered as a builder and developer. In this mausoleum is also the remains of a couple of sons and grandsons, including ruler, astronomer, mathematician Ulug-Beg.


Mausoleum of Qusam-ibn-Abbas
A cousin of the prophet Mohammed, credited with bringing Islam to this part of the world in the 7th century. The shrine grew and was modified over the year, and in the 14th and 15th centuries, many magnificent mausoleums were built in the area.


Magnificent Wood Carved Doors
The mausoleums doors were also worth keeping an eye on, as they contained incredible craftsmanship, too.


Shah-i-Zinda
These are some of the oldest mausoleums in Shah-i-Zinda, and the tile work on them is beautiful. Apparently, much of the tiling is original, and restoration on these was quite minimal, testament to the quality of the workmanship.


On the Avenue of Mausoleums
Shah-i-Zinda is like a little street lined with mausoleums. Here we can see some of the work in detail, including where it has curved to create shape and form as well as texture and colour. Looking past the tiles, the Octagonal Mausoleum can be seen, unusual in that it is open sided.


Inner Details, the Octagonal Mausoleum


A Fine Breakfast Spread
OK, it was not just for the two of us, but the array of foods meant we did not start any of our days hungry. On top of these dishes, we were given a small bowl of porridge, a fried egg, and a sausage. No complaints from us.


Russian Jeep for Sale
It hardly ever rains around here, so the lack of a roof seems hardly an issue.


No Translation Needed
A picture might be worth a thousand words. This one is worth one word. A very important word.


Bibi-Khanym Mosque
When built, in the 14th century, it was possibly the largest mosque in the world. Can you see Jo in the foreground? It is not possible to go inside, with the main dome still unrepaired after a 19th century earthquake. Peering through the doors and windows, giant cracks in the walls and ceiling make the structure look very vulnerable. Outside, though, that sense is lost, and the colossal facade is humbling. The historians, though, record that the building was done so quickly, and the engineering was stretching the limits so much, that cracks started appearing even before the works were complete. It's no wonder, then, that some movements in tectonic plates might cause the whole endeavour to appear precarious.


Recently Refurbished Hazrat-Hizr
Certainly much humbler in size, the nearby Hazrat-Hizr Mosque in Samarkand presents an extremely colourful ceiling.

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Heading south from Samarkand, we found ourselves progressively further and further from the trodden tourist path. Most foreigners don't make it to Shakrisabz, and in Termez on the border of Afghanistan, we saw one person who was definitely not local.

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There was a Piece of Rope
A car we passed on the way south in Uzbekistan. Loading your car in this way is probably not legal in many countries, but it looked surprisingly sturdy, even though there only appeared to be one piece of rope running over the top. Looks like he may have done this before.


Ak-Saray Palace, Shakhrisabz
All that remains of Timur's Ak-Saray Palace. the two sides of the entrance portal. This must have been impressive before it was destroyed - you can see it only gets to where the arch would have begun.


Cay (Chai) in a Converted Caravansary

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Using online translation is getting better, rapidly, but is a tool we try to avoid unless it is important or getting awkward. Locals generally seem to have one installed, and are quicker to resort to using that than we are. Whike it takes out some of the fun and challenge, it introduces a new game. What did they think they were saying or asking? Negotiating a taxi, just this morning, while waving fingers in the air and trying to clarify for how many and how far, a phone was thrust in front of me. The English translation displayed said "Uzbek serenity." My perplexed expression did not seem to deter him as he pointed insistently at the screen. Yesterday, at the hotel comparing different options, the manager used his phone to ask Jo a puzzling question, "Can I paint the room now?"

Termez, in southern Uzbekistan, the border of Afghanistan. The drive down here was flanked by landscape that perfectly reflected what I expect Afghan landscapes to be. Pretty broad and dry, with rocky hills and outcrops. Goatherds riding donkeys or walking, surrounded by scores of black woolly goats. When we got to the city, it was enveloped in a cloud of dust, limiting visibility and filling our eyes, noses, and lungs with grit. Thankfully it settled after a few hours, but it did not feel out of character for where we were.

As we were leaving from the bus station, before getting in to our vehicle, a police officer approached us and asked to see our pasdports. I took them and accompanied this officer to a small, slightly terrifying room reminiscent of many a movie scene. It had a table with one chair, which he took, and another chair in the middle of the room. Bare concrete walls, and nothing else in the room, except an exercise book and pen. Thankfully there was a window, and my concern would have been greater had he closed the door and told me to sit. He smiled, haphazardly copied some details from our documents in to the unformatted and messy pages of his book, took a photo of the entry stamps, and sent me on my way.