There is no direct overland route from Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, to Tashkent, Uzbekistan. You have to travel all the way south to Osh and cross the border from there, or, as we did, take a train through Kazakhstan. It takes about six hours on an old Russian train without air conditioning to reach Lugovoy in Kazakhstan. There, you have to wait seven hours for the connecting train, which arrives at 1:30 a.m. Then it is another twelve hours by train to Tashkent.
Lugovoy feels incredibly remote – a small Kazakh town with cows and old cars, surrounded by the beautiful, snow-capped Tian Shan Mountains. It feels a long way from everywhere.
Since we were arriving in a new country, we had to go through our usual arrival routine – getting local currency, buying new SIM cards, finding coffee and food. It could have been a terrible experience, but we ended up having a wonderful evening.
One tiny shop allowed us to leave our backpacks there, another place exchanged money for us, and a little café outside the station served us coffee and vegetarian food. Later, the station manager invited us into his office for coffee.
Eventually, we were the only people left waiting at the station. It was a strange but wonderful feeling to stand alone on the platform in the middle of the night, with a couple of friendly old dogs keeping us company. I could almost feel exactly where I was standing on the map of the world.
Samarkand
While preparing for Uzbekistan, I had been reading a wonderful book called A Carpet Ride to Khiva by Christopher Aslan Alexander. He quickly became my new hero.
In the book, he tells a story about the origins of the Russian word “vokzal.” According to the story, when Russia was developing its railway system, two men were sent to London to study the trains there. When they arrived at Vauxhall Station, they mistakenly thought “Vauxhall” was the word for “station.” As a result, Russian railway stations came to be called “vokzal.”
I have no idea whether this story is actually true, but I was delighted when I saw the word at the railway station in Tashkent. Indeed, I noticed it at every station we visited afterwards.
We were so exhausted when we finally reached Tashkent that all we wanted to do was sleep. Everyone says it is a lovely city, but in our exhausted state it felt too big and far too hot.
The highlight of our stay was a very friendly “Irish” pub around the corner that, unfortunately, did not have any Guinness. We slept for a couple of days and then escaped to Samarkand.
Sorry, Tashkent! Maybe next time.
I had always wanted to visit Samarkand, also known historically as Marakanda. It is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in Central Asia, with a history stretching back thousands of years and written records dating to the 8th century BC. The city was completely destroyed by Genghis Khan in 1220 but was later rebuilt.
“Samarkand, the most beautiful face the Earth has ever turned towards the sun.”
— Omar Khayyam
It is difficult to find words big or impressive enough to describe Samarkand. It feels like a grand and breathtaking open-air museum.
The Islamic architecture – mosques, madrasas, minarets and mausoleums – consists of enormous, soaring structures filled with intricate details and extraordinary decorative patterns.
We stayed in a comfortable modern apartment at the lower end of University Boulevard, a wide and majestic avenue shaded by enormous, old mulberry trees.
The boulevard continues for approximately four kilometres through a series of pathways and steps. It passes through the university grounds, where students and teachers stroll around and talk earnestly, and continues towards Gur-e-Amir, the Registan, the Bibi-Khanym Mosque, the ancient and bustling bazaar, and finally the Shah-i-Zinda necropolis.
Along the way, there are giant statues, bubbling fountains and beautiful green parks.
The weather was perfect during our stay. The city felt like a cool, green oasis in the middle of the desert.
I found myself fantasising about living there for a while – perhaps even teaching at the university.
Bukhara
The three great historical cities of Uzbekistan are Samarkand, Bukhara and Khiva. Although I had always dreamed of visiting Samarkand, I had never even heard of the other two before.
Whereas Samarkand is a city of grandeur and splendour, Bukhara offers a more authentic cultural experience.
Nobody seems to know exactly how old Bukhara really is, but the city is believed to be at least several thousand years old.
Walking through its narrow, dusty streets, lined with mud-brick houses and beautifully carved wooden doors, feels like stepping back in time.
Everywhere you look there is something extraordinary – a beautiful mosque, a magnificent dome, an ancient gateway or a historic caravanserai.
Bukhara is dry, dusty and unbelievably hot. The middle of the day can be almost unbearable, and people retreat indoors to sleep in the shade until the temperature drops in the evening.
At the heart of Bukhara is the ancient Lyabi-Hauz pool, surrounded by shady areas and restaurants. At night, it comes alive with lights, fountains and music.
Looking down from a restaurant balcony while sipping local wine, the whole scene feels wonderfully exotic.
The majority of people in both Bukhara and Samarkand are Tajik, and Bukhara felt very much like the ancient Persia I had imagined – courtyards, draped daybeds, traditional clothing, fruit and nuts, mint tea, beautiful carpets and elaborate decorations.
Almost every surface is decorated with carvings, paintings, colourful tiles and rich textiles.
The women wear colourful clothing, and many have gold teeth.
Everything in Bukhara feels luxurious, refined and poetic.
The apartment where we stayed added to this atmosphere. It felt like a small luxury palace.
Our host, Sharif, was incredibly hospitable. Every morning he prepared a delicious vegetarian breakfast that was generous enough to last us throughout the day.
We were invited to his home for tea and, on another evening, for dinner with him and his beautiful wife, Rano.
Sitting in the courtyard under the stars and having a conversation through Google Translate is a memory I will treasure forever.
Bukhara has a long history as a spiritual centre. Before the spread of Islam, it was known for its religious diversity and tolerance.
Historically, the people of Bukhara were settled rather than nomadic. For thousands of years they were involved in agriculture, crafts and trade.
Small stalls and shops can be found everywhere, while the bazaars are filled with calls of “Come and look, just look, madam!”, the sounds of bargaining, and an incredible variety of beautiful things to buy – carpets, jewellery, silk and countless other treasures.
There are plenty of wonders to discover in Bukhara, enough to fill an entire book.
For me, however, one of the highlights was the Sitorai Mokhi-Khosa Palace, where generations of the Emirs of Bukhara lived.
The palaces of the Emirs were destroyed several times, and the present palace was built by the last Emir in the early 20th century.
Although it is not particularly ancient, its architecture is extraordinary.
Today, it houses a museum of cultural artefacts, including a fascinating collection of traditional clothing and textiles.
I finally discovered the story behind the traditional curled, pointed shoes.
Apparently, their unusual shape was designed to reduce the amount of the shoe that touched the ground.
It certainly gives the idea of “treading lightly on the earth” an entirely new meaning.
The Journey to Khiva
On the train from Bukhara to Khiva, the landscape gradually changed.
The farmland gave way to scrubland, and eventually even the vegetation disappeared, leaving nothing but desert.
We arrived in Khiva in the early evening, just as the sun was setting, and it felt as though we had been transported straight into a fantasy novel.
The house where my new hero had once lived in Khiva is now a guesthouse called Meros BnB, and I was incredibly excited to stay there.
The house is very old and is located close to the West Gate inside Itchan Kala, the ancient walled city.
Khiva has a brutal history. It was once one of the most important slave-trading centres in Central Asia.
The city is even hotter than Bukhara, and I can only imagine how horrifying it must have been for people who were enslaved and brought here.
Surrounded on all sides by the vast Karakum and Kyzylkum deserts, there would have been almost no possibility of escape.
There is a traditional saying that when travelling into the desert, you should carry three things with you: a turban to use as a shroud, a knife to dig your grave, and a ring to pay the person who buries you.
It sounds like rather grim, but practical, advice.
Khiva – The Magical City of the Silk Road
Khiva is everything I had hoped to find along the Silk Road – ancient, exotic and magical.
There is something about an ancient desert city filled with domes, towers and minarets that speaks directly to the soul.
I was mesmerised watching the sunset over the old city, as the minarets were bathed in soft pink and golden light.
It was one of the most beautiful and special experiences of my life.
