by 
When I tell people I dream of Uzbekistan, they look at me like I’m crazy. Then if I talk about Samarkand and the cities on the Silk Road, they seem a little more interesting. Only the phrase “Silk Road” evokes adventure and mystery. Ever since I briefly visited this landlocked Central Asian country a few years ago, I have always wanted to go back. There is no other place like this, so I convinced a friend to come with me.
After a seven-hour flight from the UK (no visa needed!) you are in Tashkent, the surprisingly modern city and capital of Uzbekistan. From here, many tourists head directly to the Silk Road cities, the ancient trade route from China and India to the Mediterranean.
However, Tashkent itself has a lot to offer: the wide boulevards, hanging baskets and designer shops presided over by the brutalist building of Hotel Tashkent are a reminder that Uzbekistan was part of the Soviet Union until 30 years ago. (I was desperate to see the inside of this beast, but the inside is far less impressive than the outside, rather faded and shabby).
A good guide will deviate from any prearranged plan and we were lucky to have the most amazing guides throughout our trip. You come across cities, cultures and civilizations that are thousands of years old, and there are times when instead of being bombarded with information, you just sit and people watch. Or take a tour.
“Can’t we go to the museum and take the subway?” I asked when I heard that the Metro in Tashkent is fascinating. It really turned out to be. Every station is different, some like huge ballrooms with chandeliers, some like sci-fi sets from the 1960s; One of the best known of all cosmonauts, including Valentina Tereshkova, the first woman in space.
Each station is a work of art, but what was equally striking was the young people jumping in to give us their seats each time we boarded the carriage. The warmth and hospitality of the Uzbek people is very nice. Never once did I feel unsafe there.
The food on offer reveals a mix of cultures in which the history of the country manifests itself. We ate all kinds of kebabs and huge cheese and spinach pastries with vodka; at dinner you will hear people speaking Russian and Uzbek as well as Tajik.
Modern Uzbekistan has a Sunni Muslim side, but the dress code is modern (we didn’t have to cover our heads in mosques). The Soviets, aware of Afghanistan on the border, suppressed Islam to some extent. Yet the jewels of this country are the incredibly well-preserved Islamic cities.
The next day we took the very comfortable high-speed train Afrosiyob to go to Bukhara. A city more than 2,000 years old, Bukhara is simply mind-blowing. In the tiny back streets, one loses the concept of time, and encounters huge, elegantly beautiful mosques and madrasas, larger than cathedrals. The domes of the minarets glow blue in the sunlight. There is also a synagogue. Here you start to see layers of civilizations.
There are traces of the pre-Islamic Zoroastrian religion from Iran on the signs that resemble swastikas carved into wood or engraved on tiles. “Good thoughts, good words, good deeds” was their indisputable motto. Yet the splendor of Bukhara isn’t that it’s a medieval Islamic city, it’s that it’s totally alive. This is not history preserved as a theme park, but buzzing – a contrast to Khiva in the north, which is incredibly gorgeous but where no one lives inside its mud walls.
Bukhara is all about partying. We stumbled upon a rice feast in a square: huge pits were dug and fires lit. Plov is the Uzbek national dish with meat and rice, and teams of cooks compete by stirring enormous vats of meat and furiously chopping carrots. Rice is taken very seriously here (although I had a hard time getting excited even when it was kindly served to us at people’s homes). The folk in traditional costumes certainly seem to be having a whale of a time.
We had dinner at a suzani seller’s house. Suzanis are elegant tapestries traditionally made by women as dowry. With signs and symbols such as birds, peppers and pomegranates, women process their desires for their future lives. The pomegranate is everywhere, ripe and divided, symbolizing fertility. A part of a suzani is always left unfinished so that the woman’s daughter can continue the line, and as a result “joy is not interrupted”.
Stunning textiles and ceramics and splendid architecture are all over this city, but the thing to do when overwhelmed is to sit on top of the blue and emerald domes in a cafe and absorb it all. While we were doing this, fireworks started going off and everyone was outside and of course we got lost. “What are the fireworks for?” I asked. I was told “Adolescence day”, which was just as good as a young boy driving us back to our hotel: Minzifa, built around a courtyard.
Later, we sat quietly in the shadow of the Sufi temple as the locals came to pray. Some simply raised their palms and said a prayer; Everything fell silent as the others joined in. Others were alone and whispering quietly. It was incredibly touching and intense to witness such devotion in these ancient places.
From Bukhara we crossed the mountains to Shakhrisabz, the birthplace of Great Emir Temur, the venerable nomadic conqueror of the Eurasian Steppe. Statues of Timur with his name are all over Uzbekistan and many great mosques were built during his reign. In the 14th century, the empire borders China, India, and the Mediterranean, securing all caravans and trade routes.
Unfortunately Shakhrisabz felt well groomed. Samarkand was where we wanted to go – and my goodness, it didn’t disappoint. The Registan is the most famous building. (You may have seen Joanna Lumley gush about it—and it’s totally worth gushing). Timur said: “If you have doubts about our faith and strength, look at our monuments.” Well, imagine coming to Samarkand on horseback from the desert. These buildings speak of power. (The highlight for me was the shrines street, Shah-I-Zinda. If there is a more elegant architecture in the world, I haven’t seen it.)
Our guide Rianna was a wonderful woman carrying an umbrella because of the heat (summer in Uzbekistan is *very* hot; spring is the best time to go). Her pride in her culture and faith was boundless. At one point a very old man insisted on taking a picture of her with an old Soviet phone to approach her, then tried to kiss her. He dodges it wonderfully.
I don’t believe in to-do lists. They seem like too many obligations to me. But if you want to go to a truly unforgettable place, Silk Road cities are for you. I have never seen such a dazzling architecture, with as many shades of blue as you will see on the tiles and domes there.
And all this in a place that was once the center of everything that matters when it comes to commerce. The axis of the world is somehow shifting there: old power centers shoulder to shoulder with the new ones. It seems that I still dream of Uzbekistan. I think I always will.
