We arrived in Bukhara late and found the hotel that I had called along the way from the border just before all the restaurants in the old centre shut. ‘Liaby House’ was a great little hotel, just off the main square and man-made pond of the same name. It was a fusion of a new and tastefully built country style hotel, with terracotta stone on the floors and wooden beams running along the ceilings, and a very old, grand, almost stage-like building with ancient looking crumbling columns, flaking paint on the walls and little alcoves that featured very old pottery and tin and silver pitchers. We checked into our rooms, which were spacious and modern, and rushed over to the square and pond for some last minute dinner.
The boys were happy! They ordered shashlik, which they thought was very good and a local dish called ‘djeez’, strips of beef cooked with cucumbers, tomatos and onions, and lots of local spices – a juicy dish that turned out to be their favourite. They also offered us a large selection of salads, different from any European salads we’ve had before, from which we chose 4 and, which alongside fries made up most of my meal.
Stuffed like Christmas turkeys, we all rolled back to our hotel an hour later and after a long desired shower made it to bed at around 1am.
What seemed like 20 minutes later of cool, unconscious near-dead bliss, we got up and went down for breakfast, about 10 minutes before it was scheduled to end.
Breakfast in Uzbekistan almost deserves its own post. It’s made up of the usual bacon, sausages and eggs, but in addition they offer the thinnest pancakes, some plain and some stuffed with a type of feta-like cheese. There are 5 types of home-made jams that they offer with 6 different types of breads. In addition, they offer a sheer mountain of fresh fruit, and a large variety of cookies and cakes that meets the needs of even the most capricious tourist palate. There were 4 different types of tea prepared fresh in Russian style samovars, coffee and the yogurt drink ayran, which stills thirst in the heat better than anything else you will find.
Bob and Olov weren’t feeling well. Bob in particular looked ready to pass out from nausea but Olov wasn’t far behind. We all decided to walk around the town and visit some of the sites, but by the time lunchtime rolled around, both Bob and Olov had to go back to their rooms and lay down. Nick and I proceeded further.
Bukhara is a centre of ancient history that is both unexpected and what seems a relatively well kept secret. The lonely planet mentions some of the sites, but we had no idea what we were about to see. A lot of smart government investment has preserved and restored most of the ancient temples, towers and spires as well as 8 covered markets that sprawl through most of the old town.
We thought we could see it all in one day, but ideally we could have used two. Most of the old domed buildings are in use as part of the bazaar and every little alcove is utilised by musical instrument workshops, woodwork, painters, carpet makers and the occasional art or photography gallery, featuring local people in local settings. Everywhere you look, people are painting, drawing, carving or forming their materials into their goods.
They also sell knives, tin and metal pots and pitchers, teracotta and ceramic pots and bowls, bread forming utensils, silk and linnen clothes and scarves and woolen hats. Additionally, they sell sentimental wares from the former USSR ranging from badges for different sports and memorable events, to medals, pictures, pots, books and old rubles.
Although friendly, it’s obvious that the sales people are accustomed to tourists and Mongol ralliers coming through.
There is a huge fuel shortage in Uzbekistan and queues at gas stations are 5-6 hours long but waiting doesn’t guarantee you a portion of the available fuel after all this time. The alternative way to get fuel is to talk to local sales people, who are obviously making a profit out of the Mongol ralliers plight. We were approached by one man, who after 30 minutes of haggling came down to the equivalent of $45 dollars per 20 litre jerry can. We passed, especially, when we heard from a scarf selling girl who I’d become friendly with, that just 2 days earlier when there had not yet been any rally teams, the price had still been high, but about 4 times lower nonetheless. We had the assurance of another 2 full jerry cans on our roof, so we thanked him and left. Seeing about 20 new rally teams arriving that day, we were sure he was going to make a killing anyway.
Walking into a worse-for-wear temple, we walked around the stalls and just before leaving we noticed a dilapidated entryway with a crumbling staircase leading up. Nick was apprehensive, but after seeing me run up the first 6 steps out of sight, he followed. What a brilliant move!
We had to sneak by the second floor, where there was a lit stove that someone was cooking a stew on, but where they were also drying their socks, which by the smoke coming off them, seamed on the border to being crispy. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be anyone around, so we walked on up another floor. A further set of steps and a dark alcove further brought us out onto a bright and open roof top. It came like a wave. We walked out, and out of a dry and crumbling darkness, we suddenly had a sun flooded 360 degree view of all of Bukhara. It was just at the time, when the sun was full ablaze for one final push before setting for the day. It was glorious! There was a light breeze, everything was lit up just waiting to be photographed and there was no one to stop us. It felt like the perfect freedom!
We took our photos, sat on the roof with our legs dangling over the edge but out of view of the people in the market below, watched the sunset and chatted about the great experiences we’d already had on this trip.
When the sun had set almost fully, we walked down the steps, careful not to draw any attention and got out of the old temple unseen.
We walked back to the hotel and texted Bob and Olov to see how they were feeling. They had gotten worse during the day and asked us to go the the close by pharmacy and buy medicines for them. We gave them the medicines, wished them goodnight and went for dinner.
Supposedly, there is a vegetarian restaurant, which is known for its excellent dishes. Although we found it, they were not serving food that day and we continued on. After trying to find another restaurant described in the lonely planet, which turned out to be permanently shut, we decided to just go back to the restaurant on the square, where we had eaten with the boys the night before.
Dinner was good and after reviewing our photos of the day, we went back to the hotel and retired early in preparation of our drive to Samarkand and beyond the next day.
Posted from Ulaanbaatar, Tov, Mongolia.
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