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An 0800 start today as we have an 8 hour, 450km, drive from Khiva to Bukhara along roads that, whilst pretty poor, are still in a better condition than Britain's ice-damaged motorways!Mind you, our new driver Mormin, whom I suspect will be called Mimi from here on in judging by Maria's attempts at breakfast to get his name right, was doing his best Colin Macrae impression to avoid the potholes, drains, pedestrians, bicyclists going against the flow of traffic and donkey drawn carts overloaded with grass!
We cross the Uzbekistan 'Golden Gate Bridge' constructed post 1991 over the Oxus River.The guards and police at either ends of the bridge, and across it, being the only giveaway that this is, in effect, a border crossing with Turkmenistan on our right and Uzbekistan on our left. We cross without incident.And now the desert starts!
We just had the first of our 2 hour leg stretch stops at what Rusty tells us is the cleanest service station on the route.Maria decides to go for a wee but changes her mind when she sees the 3 open toilets without separate cubicles.I'm so pleased at times like this that all I have to do to water the desert is unzip, take nature in hand, and turn on the sprinkler system.So I wander to the mens, am nearly stopped by the invisible stench arising from the diarrhoeaed contents of many a poorly traveller's stomach emanating from within but take a deep breath and enter the pit.The splatter patterns surrounding the rectangular abyss beneath my feet, and trying to escape up the back wall, would keep the forensic skills of Dexter occupied for months but I find a 'clean' spot to place my feet and attempt to win a goldfish by taking out 3 flies in a row as I attend to business.I'm scared that if I plant my feet for too long they'll be so nourished by the fertiliser beneath that I'll start sprouting new toes!I quickly grab the antibacterial gel from Maria and take a road side shower.
The journey continues in the increasing heat and Maria decides to take a nap.She takes her travel pillow and strategically places it under her head.Not comfortable, she nicks my pillow for added support and takes forty winks.We have a brief stop to look at a scenic view of the Oxus river and to watch some female tourists walk behind the rectangular concrete toilet block at the water's edge with toilet roll in hand.What's wrong with going inside I wonder?We stop after another 2 hours to eat our packed lunch prepared by the hotel.The tomato, cucumber, boiled egg and cheese sandwich instantly get tossed to one side and I munch away on what's left, which isn't much but is enough for a strong, growing lad like myself.
We had been forewarned by Rusty that the food en-route to Bukhara is a little iffy, hence our packed lunches, so are amazed to see a huge group of German tourists tucking in to salad and kebabs, freshly cooked on the open fire nearby.True, it smelled delicious and looked equally appealing when cooked.'The trouble is' informs Rusty, 'that it might look fresh but you just don't know how old the meat is'.We got into a discussion about previous illnesses experienced on his tours and he told us about a poor man who screamed to the driver of a large coach to 'stop the bus, stop the bus' but just a little too late to prevent him from watching his fellow travellers hastily get off as the smell of his newly soiled pants wafted down the coach aisle!We were also told that there are two routes to Bukhara, the one we were on and another which takes in a night stop at a Ger camp.In full flow now, Rusty told us about another unfortunate elderly gentlemen who did the Ger camp stop over but stayed rather longer than intended.In fact, we understand that he is still there as it seems that the heat and exhaustion got to him and his ticker gave up.Having no living relatives he was buried at the camp.Unfortunately, such an incident, which is clearly poor for the Uzbekistan travel industry, also buried the Ger camp.Well for several years at least.
We continued on the appalling drive, with poor Mormin doing his best to spare his car but failing on a couple of occasions, dented wheel rims testament to the ditches that he just failed to avoid.The deep sighs coming from the front also witness to his displeasure with the drive.We watched intrigued as the 'highway' narrowed to a single lane dirt road, overtaken by the encroaching desert sand, and watched alarmed as idiot after idiot insisted on overtaking at break neck speed!This is the very reason why the Asian Development Bank (ADB) is being asked to invest in Uzbekistan.The roads really are dreadful.
As we came closer to Bukhara we approached another check-point, this one though had a lengthy queue of lorries and cars.'We could be here for a long time' piped up Rusty, 'Checking each lorry can take 30 minutes'.Unprepared to wait, Mormin drove off the road, onto the sandy roadside and up to the checkpoint 100 yards ahead.'ADB delegates' declared Rusty to the guard, who promptly waived us through and set us on our way.
The landscape became increasingly green and fertile as we got to the city outskirts, and the plethora of donkey drawn carts and bicycles struggling along the roads overloaded with vegetation was a great indication that we had reached civilisation again.I even saw an old car stuffed to the rafters with grass; the stuff was sticking out of every available window and boot but I didn't get time to get a picture.
We arrived at our hotel about 4pm and just enough time to drop our bags before heading out again for a quick tour of the Poi Kalyan Complex, which in Persian means 'the foot of the Great'.It is so called because the structures at the sight lie beneath the great Kalyan Minaret, the most famed part of the ensemble, which dominates over the historical centre of the city.The role of the minaret is largely for traditional and decorative purposes but this one's dimensions exceeds the realm of the main function of the minaret, namely for the muezzin to call people to prayer.Thus, Kalyan Minaret was also used as a lighthouse, watch tower and place of execution, more of which later.
The Minaret's architect, Bako, built the minaret in the form of a circular-pillar brick tower, with a base of 9 m narrowing to 6 m at the top and with a height of 45.6 m. There is a brick spiral staircase that twists up inside around the pillar although we have to take Rusty's word for that.What is amazing about the minaret is that it is still standing after some 1000 years, despite the best efforts of invaders to destroy it.Legend has it that when Genghis Khan entered the city of Bukhara with the intention of totally destroying the tower, his hat got blown off by the wind as he rode up to it.For some reason he decided to dismount and pick up his own hat, instead of ordering a soldier to do so for him, and in the action of gathering his hat effectively bowed to the minaret.So impressed was he that the tower had the power to make even him submit to it, he instructed that it be left intact.
More recently the Russians tried to destroy it using canon fire during the revolution but still it remained standing.The impact marks from the cannon balls are still discernable today by virtue of the lighter coloured bricks used to make the reparations.
According to Rusty, the last people to be executed by being thrown from the top of the minaret were in fact two British citizens, Lieutenant Colonel Stoddard and Captain Conolly.In 1841, in an attempt to counter the growing penetration of Russia into Central Asia, Conolly unsuccessfully tried to persuade the various khanates to put aside their differences and in November 1841 he was captured on a rescue mission to free fellow British officer Stoddart who had already been taken captive in Bukhara.The two were executed by the Emir of Bukhara, Nasrullah Khan in June 1842 on charges of spying for the British Empire. The two gentlemen were allegedly rumbled during a function and, when music was being played instead of moving their heads from side to side, as was the custom for the locals, they tapped their feet in time with the music.A sharp eyed objecter to their presence noticed the anomaly and so their plan was foiled.Of course, various stories online recount that the two were executed by beheading at the Ark?!When told this story about, some of Rusty's English tourists took so much offence that they sent an email of complaint to his travel agency.
In front of the minaret but on opposite sides is the Kalyan Mosque (left) and Mir-i-ArabMadrasa (right).
The Kalyan Mosque built in 1514 is a huge and impressive structure.Not quite on a par with Iran's Imam Mosque, it is nevertheless extremely attractive, and with a capacity of 12,000 thousand people has to be one of the largest mosques in Central Asia.The fact that governor of Bukhara (Ubaidullah-sultan) built such a grand mosque to compete with that in the Bibi-KhanymMosque in the capital of Samarkand shows the determination to make Bukhara the capital of the Shaibanid state and in so doing depose Samarkand as the premiere city.
Opposite the mosque is the Miri Arab Madrasa, constructed by Sheikh Abdullah Yamani of Yemen from 1535-1536.The portal of Miri Arab Madrasa is situated on one axis with the portal of the Kalyan Mosque so it is straightforward to get great pictures of the opposite building.However, because the madrasa is still in use as a school it is not possible go in, cameras at the ready tourist fashion, the same way we do with almost every other historical building in Uzbekistan.
Both buildings possess wonderfully decorative facades, with ornate carvings and colourful artwork but the history for each couldn't be more different.Whilst the madrasa is clearly a religious place of scholarship, the mosque's spiritual background is tainted somewhat by the legend of Ghengis Khan, yet again.So the story goes, the covered platform structure in the courtyard of the mosque, close to the mihrab is not functional but was built as a memorial to the thousands of children who were allegedly killed when Ghengis Khan ordered his horsemen to trample them to death!
After finishing the tour on such a lovely story we returned to our hotel where we had a bird's eye view of all these magnificent buildings from our rather large balcony.It was so large in fact that I had a chance to do some exercise before going downstairs for our 4-course dinner.The staff are wonderfully kind and the food was again delicious.We think Rusty told them we like dessert as the waiter proudly announced that we had homemade apple pie for pudding.Now, whilst strictly speaking it wasn't apple pie, it did contain apple as well as a generous dusting of cinnamon and was quite delicious. When we were done we decided to go to the upstairs terrace and enjoy the view over a nightcap.We were served by a lovely 13 year old boy, whose bright eyes and cheeky face made you want to adopt him there and then.He just had so much energy, ran everywhere, instead of walked in that slothful manner adopted by so many Western teenagers, and was quite simply a polite, hard working and disciplined lad.
I ordered a beer and Maria asked for a coffee with milk.He came rushing back, professionally served us our drinks, and went to loiter behind the bar.'Could I have a spoon please?' asked Maria.Not sure what she meant, he came over and Maria repeated spoon whilst making stirring motions in her teacup.'Toshek' he replied.'spon'. 'Not spon' corrected Maria, 'spoon' she repeated.'Toshek' he said again and ran off to get one.He returned a couple of minutes later, handed it to her saying 'Toshek, Spoon' with a great big smile, took our money and went home for the night.
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