A Land of Castles and Forts, Mountains and Wadis, Deserts and Beaches

16 to 23 Jan, 2024 - Nakhal, Nizwa, Bahla, Jebel Shams, Al Ayn, Jabrin, Wadi Bani Khalid, Al Ayjah, Sur, Wadi Shab, Muscat - (Oman)




All too quickly, another trip is coming to a close, and another "final" blog entry is written. This one covers the time in the main part of Oman.

We opted to spend a bit more for the hire car for this part of the trip, getting a vehicle with 4WD capability. Not 100% sure of needing it, I was hesitant to spend the extra. We had no intention of visiting the deep desert sands, so we knew a true 4x4 would not be necessary, but since we were doing some areas with notorious unmade roads, including steep climbs, we felt obliged to dig deeper and cover ourselves. Now, after returning the car and assessing, the short number of kilometres we drove where it was useful would have been successfully driven in a regular car. Not easily nor comfortably, but possible. You know what they say about hindsight.

We have been observing a local custom. I would be surprised if it was just Omani, but we really don't know if this happens in neighbouring countries. When dining out, we watched the "take away ritual". This involved a customer driving up outside the restaurant and tooting their horn. Someone from the restaurant would then attend to that car. If not quickly, then the little friendly toot is repeated, perhaps as a more pertinent honk. So, the waiter, owner, or maybe one of their children, goes to the most recently arrived vehicle. Sometimes they would be required to run back in to the establishment and return with a menu. Order is taken from the vehicle occupants, which may be just the driver, or may be the whole family. Eventually, a bag or more of food is taken out, and the car leaves. Occasionally it seems the order has been pre-placed, or the driver has left and come back, but this does not appear to be the normal way. While waiting, bored children climb out of car windows or through open sunroofs to entertain themselves. There is often a need for the waiting cars to shuffle around, as they may be double or triple parked.

Jo and I had the idea of suggesting roller skates to these waitstaff, but the stairs and dirt and rocks would probably make implementation of that idea quite treacherous.

South-west we left from Muscat airport. Across the plains for the first half day, before abruptly encountering the mountains, climbing and winding over the next days, eventually nearing Oman's highest point of around 3,000 metres. It was cool at night, there, dropping to around 7 degress.

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Nakhal Fort
19th century fort, overlooking the local date plantations.


Inside Nizwa Fort
Inside the inner fortifications of Nizwa Fort. This is a 17th century fort, the inner stronghold of a much larger castle. Entrance to the fort was protected with multiple secret trap doors and pitfalls, reinforced doors where boiling date oil could be poured on enemy attackers, and many other impressive defensive components.


Nizwa Fort's Destinctive Tower
At 40m high, it would make quite the formidable task for any army of that day to consider.


Bahla Fort
One of the largest forts in Oman. Rooms here were generally left empty and unlabelled, allowing the visitor to be creative and hypothesise as one scrambled in and out and around the multitude rooms and the Escher like stairways.


Bahla Fort Interior
Built and modified over the 12th to 15th centuries. The mud-brick walls, as well as the architecture and layout, looked and felt quite different to the other forts we have visited so far in Oman. Not less refined, but they certainly did not feel as evolved.


Wadi Ghul Viewpoint
Looking down in to Wadi Ghul from the top of Jebel Shams. This canyon is often called the "Grand Canyon of Oman", and a deserved title it is indeed.


A Stop on the Balcony Walk
The balcony walk is a 5-6 km trail that runs in to Wadi Ghul. It is reasonably level, and although narrow in parts, never precipitous. Doing it in the morning meant we basically were in the sun for the majority. This lookout point seems to occasionally operate as a cafe, with two tables, although there was nobody when we came through. It is reasonably near the end (or start, depending whether you need a break early).


Another View From the Balcony Walk
Deep in Wadi Ghul, Oman's Grand Canyon.

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Then east, rapidly loosing altitude, till it was a pleasant 27 degrees by the coast. Circling back to the north, we finished with a coupld of days in Muscat.

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Beehive Tombs, Al Ayn
Some of the beehive tombs of Al Ayn, lined along a ridge. Dotted at various sites in the area, they are believed to be between 4000 and 5000 years old.


Inside Jabrin Castle
We both felt that Jabrin Castle was our favourite in Oman. The size and layout made for an excellent visit, and a good quantity of information. The furnished rooms, just lovely, and the painted ceilings are especially noteworthy.


Culturally Appropriate Signage


By the Lake, Wadi Bani Khalid
I had read about this location, but when it featured on the plane in Oman Air's in-flight safety video, I was inspired to upgrade it from "maybe" to "must do".


Chai by the Water
Although not visible in the shot, in this lake, and further upstream, families swam and played. It was joyful, listening to the chatter and laughter, children squealing with delight, adults calling and joking.

We didn't swim. Just drank chai and absorbed the atmosphere.


Deeper in Wadi Bani Khalid
Further up the wadi, the rock pools of various sizes were also inhabited by paddlers and swimmers.


Hmm, Adulterous Soap
A shop sign in the ladies souk in Sur.


Wadi Shab
Getting close to Muscat, we visited Wadi Shab. It seemed to be the most touristy place we have been in Oman, with many nationalities seemingly represented amongst those heading up. First, there was a boat trip across a smal "lake" from the car park, then on foot, past ancient water channels that are still maintained, modified, and important.


On our Walk, Wadi Shab


We Ordered Too Much
So, we knew we were ordering more than we needed. We forgot they would automatically give the rice, salad, pita, dahl, and hummus.

The prawn masala was excellent, but the chicken nashif was out of this world.


Old Muscat Gate
Unusually, Old Muscat is not at the heart of Muscat city. What tends to happen, is the historic heart remains the heart of the city, to some degree or another. A new centre may spring up, but the new city surrounds and engulfs the old city.

Muscat, though, has its new city along the coast. Kind of bumped against the old city, but then sprawled out away from it for the next 20 or more kilometres.

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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.

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.