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We started the day with a delightful breakfast served by these delightful people then took a short drive to our first sight of the day, a fairground. Well not exactly, but the walk through the Samanid Park and beautifully maintained surrounding gardens was to enable us to view Samanid's Mausoleum.
The Samanid Mausoleum is located on the site of an ancient cemetery and was one of the most esteemed sights of Central Asian architecture. It was built between 892 and 943 AD by Ismail Samani, the founder of the Samanid dynasty and the last Persian dynasty to rule in Central Asia; he held the city of Bukhara in the 9th and 10th centuries. Ismail Samani built up the mausoleum in honour of his father Achmed ibn Asad and it then became the family crypt: Ismail and, according to an inscription above the entrance to the mausoleum, his grandson was buried here.It's an interesting building from the outside so I coughed up the obligatory photo fee and squeezed inside between, you guessed it, the French. I needn't have bothered though as although the interior is quite pretty, there is nothing remarkable worth seeing. Maybe we're just spoilt by now with all the amazing sights we have seen?Maria struck up a conversation with a little girl, who was surprisingly cute and didn't try to sell us anything, and insisted merely on saying 'hello, how are you', in every language under the sun.
I managed to tease Maria away from this minor distraction so we could walk via the remains of the original city wall to the Chashma-iy-Ayub Mausoleum, also known as Job's Well. The mausoleum is an amalgam of historical design as it was repeatedly reconstructed between the 14th and 19th centuries before finally acquiring its present shape of an elongated prism crowned with domes of various forms.A double conical dome, resting on a cylindrical drum, marks the location of the well.
We sat outside on a wall adjacent to the Imam Al-Bukhari Complex, a new museum building in the shape of a crescent, and listened to Rusty as he gave us the history of the well.I wasn't really paying full attention as I was distracted by the elderly gardener next to us who was, would you believe, doing a spot of gardening. I'm not too sure about the gardening tag as the more I watched, the more I got more the impression of a man hacking at a hedge with his sheers.Then, just as I was framing up a shot of him at work, surrounded by splendid flowering roses, chop, chop he went and the blooms joined the hedge cuttings on the ground. He then went on to 'hoe' out the verge overgrown with grass and was helped with the clearing up by a somewhat rotund gentleman who struggled to bend over.How he managed to pick up the grass I will never know!
During this time, Rusty was recounting the story of Job's Well, which went something like this.According to the Bible, 'There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and turned away from evil' (Job 1:1). Of course, nobody knows where exactly Uz was but there's no reason on earth why it wasn't near Bukhara city.The legend tells that Job (Ayub) was walking over this place at the time of severe drought and, as the local people, dying from thirst, begged him for water, he struck the earth with his staff and instantly the healing water spring appeared. The antique well still gives pure and apparently tasty water and people still come from near and far to pray next to the well and bathe in the water, which today is supplied from a metal tank by three little taps.They even bottle it up and take it home to heal the rest of the family.
When Rusty had finished we dutifully paid the photo fee and went in. Several people were partaking of the water, splashing it with abandon over their clothed bodies, in the hope that they would be cured from whatever they were suffering. Old cynic that I am can't help wondering if it also cures delusion? Anyway, since Maria has tried everything else on this trip, she had to have a go and delicately sat under a tap, wet her hands, face, arms and feet in the liquid. Seriously, I have seen more water in the Atacama Desert than Maria managed to prize from that tap!
We walked a short distance to the Bolo Khauz Mosque, built by Emir Shahmurad for public prayer to enable him to become closer to his people.It is the only monument of the original Registan square that has survived through the years. Located to the west of the Ark, our next destination, the square was the developed social centre of the city with office blocks, palaces, mosques and a bazaar. Just across the road was a restaurant where we would eat lunch whilst waiting for Friday's call to prayer, but until then we walked around the pond in which the reflection of the colourfully painted eivan (gallery with colonnade) and the minaret can be seen.The pond (khauz) is the earliest part of the complex and Bolo-khauz actually means 'children's pond' which is quite fitting as we saw a young lad with a fishing rod, dangling his line in it. I don't rate his chances of catching anything more than a tin can or plastic bottle though!
We had time to cross the road, snap a picture at the traffic lights of an old Lada car straining to carry chairs and a sofa on its roof, and visit the Ark fortress. The ancient fortress Ark is the initial core of the city, the oldest monument in Bukhara, and was formerly the residence of the local rulers. The first settlements appeared here by at least the 3d century BC. On a plan view, the Ark looks like an irregular rectangle and has perimeter walls nearly 8000 m in length and covers an area of 9.79 acres.
Entry to the complex, rebuilt in the 18-th century by emir Shahmurad, is through the monumental gateway fringed by double towers.
Inside the fortress is an ascending passage and along the sides of this passage are rooms for water, sand and prison cells; twelve niches at the left; thirteen at the right. The rooms were formerly prison cells but underneath these were more dungeon cells used to house the most dangerous criminals.Apparently, waste water and sewerage was channelled through the cells to ensure that the lives of the occupants was made that little bit more uncomfortable.There is a domed niche half way along the passage on the left which was where the Zoroastrians used to place a candle in honour of Siavush whose remains allegedly lie at that spot but underneath the foundations. Atop the passage can be found the Grand Mosque that has one-prayer room, framed with the portico on wooden pillars on three sides. Although, most of the buildings, especially the wooden framework, perished in a fire in 1920, the complex still has many curiosities like Ulduhtaron Mosque, famous because of legend that 40 girls were murdered there and thrown into the well.To be honest, the inside of the Ark today is not that fascinating as it houses merely trinket shops and a history museum, navigated by moving through various themed rooms.The history and legend is much more fascinating though.
According to the Persian epic poem Shahnameh, the Ark city was founded by King Siavush, son of Shah Kavakhous, one of the mythical Iranian Shahs of the Pishdak Dynasty. As the legend goes, Siavush was accused by the Vizers of seducing his mother and to test his innocence he underwent trial by fire. After emerging from the flames unscathed he crossed the Oxus River into Turan.The king of Samarkand, Afrosiab, gave Siavash his daughter Ferganiza and a vassal kingdom in the Bukhara Oasis which is where he built the Ark and surrounding city.Some years later Siavash was again accused of seducing his father-in-law's wife so Afrasiab killed Siavash and buried his head under the Haysellers Gate.In retaliation Shah Kavakhous killed Afrasiab and took his son and daughter-in-law back to Persia.
Also, Rusty told us that before Afrasiab gave Siavush his daughter he stipulated that the pretender should be able to build a fortress on one piece of land under an ox-hide. Such a task clearly seemed impossible, but Siavush was a clever young man and came up with an ingenious solution. He slit the ox-hide into slender ribbons then joined the ends together to produce a long 'string' on top of which he later built the Ark.
Time was getting on and one o'clock prayers would be starting reasonably soon so we went back to have lunch at the cafe by the mosque.We sat outside on a couch, not the MFI variety, but the raised wooden kind with three sides, loads of cushions and a low table in the middle on which the food is served. We had pilauf, the traditional local dish consisting of rice cooked with fine strips of carrot and topped with chunks of lamb. Whilst we were eating, Rusty told us a funny story about the historical background of the pilauf dish. In times gone by when husband and wife used to work all day in the fields, they never had the opportunity for a good old clean every day to wash the grime away but gave themselves a quick clean using a bowl of water instead. Now, if either of the happy couple were feeling particularly amorous on a Thursday or Sunday they couldn't come straight out with a, 'how about a s**g tonight honey, but instead used code in the form of 'I would like pilauf tonight' from the husband or 'I'll cook pilauf for you tonight my dear', from the wife. With the go, green light lit, they would make a special trip to the hammam for a thoroughly good clean and scrub in all those delicate and hard to reach places, ready for the night ahead! If, however, the husband didn't ask for pilauf or if he said no when asked if he wanted it by his wife then sex was definitely off the menu!
We wrapped up with some delicious goat's milk ice-cream just as prayer was being called, so dashed across the street so see hundreds of men kneeling down, about to commence the hypnotic and rhythmic movements associated with prayer. Just as in the UK, the attendance at religious sermons depends a great deal on the popularity of the vicar and we knew from our conversation at lunch that this imam was well very well-admired and respected, hence the huge turnout. Before you knew it, prayer time was over, people watching the service washed themselves with the symbolic cupped hands splashing imaginary water over their faces and the men shook hands or hugged before going on their way to continue their daily duties.
We moved on to continue our tour of the Lyabi Khauz Ensemble. The Labi Khauz means 'at the pond' and is the name given to the area surrounding one of the few remaining Hauz or ponds surviving in the city of Bukhara. Until the Soviet period there were many such ponds, which were the city's principal source of water but they were notorious for spreading disease and were mostly filled in during the 1920s and 30s. The Lyab-i Hauz survived because it is the centrepiece of a magnificent architectural ensemble, created during the 16th and 17th centuries, which has not been significantly changed since. It was also to be the sight of dinner. The ensemble comprises three monumental structures: Kukeldash Madrasa in the north, Khanaka (1619-20) in the west and Nadir divan-begi Madrasa (1622/23) in the east.
The word 'kukeldash' literally means 'foster-brother' and in a hierarchy of power inherited from Genghis-khan this word designates one of the most important positions of a khans' court. The sponsor of Kukeldash Madrasa was the highly influential emir Kulbaba, who held a post of Kukeldash under several khans of the Shaibanid dynasty. The greatest in size measuring 80 x 60 meters with over 130 'cells' the madrasa was built in 1568/69 and became famous for the splendid example of 'white interior'. The main front is adorned with geometrical ornaments.
Nadir Divan-begi constructed his madrasa in 1622/23 and originally intended it to be a caravanserai. However, at the inauguration ceremony, Imam Quli-khan unexpectedly proclaimed the supposed caravanserai to be a madrasa so Nadir Divan-begi was obliged to rearrange the caravanserai, by adding the loggias and angular towers to the front. He also constructed an additional storey with cells but observant individuals will notice that it does not have a lecture room! The entrance portal is particularly memorable for its depictions of 2 phoenix birds, 2 misshapen white deer and a 'man-in-the-sun' face.
The Khanaka of Nadir Divan-begi was built in 1619/20 and is a rectangular edifice topped with a dome. The khan was apparently fed up with nomad Dervishes making the square look untidy by sleeping on the streets so the Khanaka was built to provide them with free, temporary shelter until they moved on.
Whilst walking around the area we had to stop, mesmerised at a few German tourists who were ferociously attacking a mulberry tree.We couldn't believe the force with which they pulled the poor's shrub's branches down before greedily stuffing the wonderful berries into their already filled mouths.Pictures of starving Africans vying for precious emergency food aid drops sprang to mind; but these tourists had just eaten lunch!!It was a totally embarrassing site to behold and I turned behind me, shrugged my shoulders to three local men sat on a bench saying 'what on earth are they doing?'.He just looked back at me, a sad smile on his face which replied 'I have no idea?'
It was at this point that we were also admiring the statue of Nasruddin Khodja, known also as Mulla Nasruddin or simply Nasruddin.I called him the Donkey Man because he was a. riding a donkey and b. looked like one to me.Nasruddin was an ancient 'wise fool' who lived about 1000 years ago and features in Sufi children's stories as a 'Robin Hood' character who helped to redistribute the wealth in the country from the rich to the poor.Each tale depicts Nasruddin in a different situation, and through his viewpoint they humorously reveal commentary and lessons on various life themes. The great allure of the Mulla Nasruddin tales, apparently, is that they are funny as well as lesson filled, philosophical, and thought provoking.
The tour of the architectural sights of Bukhara over, we strolled through the various bazaars that were once connected by covered walkways but are now merely kept apart by concrete and distance. The arts and crafts for sale aren't that inspiring and seem to cater for the budget end of trinket tourism so we went back to the hotel to rest. Having said that, instead of resting I went back out to the Kalyan complex to improve upon the pictures taken I'd taken yesterday.I spent most of the time waiting for a fellow, violet shirted 'photographer' (just to clarify I wasn't wearing purple) to get out of my shots so ended up spending an hour at the site.It was pleasant to see the local kids having a game of football next to these magnificent monuments, playing as if the fine structures were just the house next door. To them of course they were.
I got back in time for another exercise session on our balcony before having another delightful dinner and nightcap in the upstairs restaurant. It turns out that the young barman we were so impressed with yesterday is, in fact, Rusty's nephew. We sat down and ordered a beer for me, tea for Maria, and straight away Maria picked up the spoon, pointed at it and asked 'what's the name for this in English?' 'Spoon' he replied without any hesitation whatsoever. 'What is it in Tajik?' he cheekily quizzed immediately; one, nil to Rusty's nephew! When we asked him what he wanted to do when he grows up, he impressed us even more with. 'I want to move to America' he said. 'I have big plans!'.
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