As-salamu alaykum Uzbekistan – another istan, another Muslim country
I crossed the border in the last hour – just like Zoli Bujna usually does :-) Maybe it was due to that, that the usually hours long checking was shortened down to half-half hour long procedures, and the next thing I knew was that I am drinking tea and having a watermelon with the Iranian truck drivers. I brought currency (Som) from black market money exchangers directly on the border, but later it turned out that I was given a pretty bad exchange rate.
You have heard about Árpi and Zita from some of my entries. This extraordinary married pair started their long and exiting honeymoon in 2011 from Budapest. They travel around the globe with two recumbent bicycles. I got to know them just before they launched and as their route often overlapping with mine they already gave me a lot of advice. In exchange they sometimes ask me check up on things, to collect coins for them. Now they requested me to find Bolyhos. Bolyhos is a kitten which was rescued from the desert and they left it at the first town in Uzbekistan, in Olot. Árpi sent me some pictures about the kitten and the family they left it with and also the GPS coordinates. It was nightfall when I reached the coordinates and the block of flats which is standing there. I showed the inhabitants the pictures Árpi sent me on a tablet and they were astonished from where did I got these pictures. We found the old lady Árpi and Zita spent a night at two years ago. As it turned out the kitten strayed away just as they left. Regardless they invited me as a friend from long ago. In no time we had a picnic in front of the house; everyone brought something. We had tomatoes, baked potatoes, some brought vodka, some kefir, and I also got a taste of Samsa, the national food of Uzbekistan. Samsa is dough filled with onions and minced meat and cooked on steam. So my first night started out with great Uzbek hospitality and naturally I spent the night in front of the block of flats on a bench.
The next day I cycled in great heat, in a desert and after 80km, early afternoon, I arrived in Bukhara. Arminius Vámbéry crossed the gates of Bukhara on July 12th 1863. In his notes he describes the climate also as hot and how thirsty they were. Their caravan came from Khiva, travelled six nights through the Khalata desert to the “Capitol” of Middle Asia, Bukhara. One of the travellers died do to dehydration and also Vámbéry’s life was hanging on a thread.
I only understood the real hardship what you have to face when crossing a desert only after I got through the Karakum desert. My stomach ache, which bothered me since Turkmenistan got milder; at the time I left Bukhara it was entirely gone.
In Bukhara I called Mirfejz, who I got to know through a connection from back home; to his address DHL delivered the plastic components which broke during the accident in Iran. He and his friends were a great help during my whole stay in Bukhara. I met them at the Lyab-i Hauz. You should imagine this place as a rectangular square with 100 feet long and 80 feet wide deep pond in the middle. The name Lyab-i Hauz in Persian means “By the pond”. It was constructed around 1620 by a man named Nadir Divan-Beghi. The pond is surrounded by square stone blocks; you can get to the water on an eight stairs stairway. On the shore beautiful elm trees are standing and from three sides building are surrounding the pod.
The next morning my two guides, Fira and Mifrejz, showed me all the sight in the city. I will write more about Bukhara in my upcoming book, but to give you a feeling of how beautiful this city is I show you some of the pictures I took.
The idyll in Bukhara was overshadowed by a bad news. I was just walking at the Lyab-i Hauz when I met three British cyclists. They told me that the border crossing to Tajikistan, between Samarkand and Panjakent, is closed. Due to the precise planning my journey was always predictable, I know what to expect, this seemed to fall apart now. I hurried back to my room, opened my Middle Asia map and also google maps, and searched for alternative routes. I found three alternatives. The first was to skip Samarkand and to launch directly to the South-East towards Tajikistan. The second, to cycle from Samarkand, through the hot desert and rocky terrain, covering 400km in three days. The third was the same as the second, just by a bus. As Samarkand was the furthest point east to which Vámbéry was able to get I wanted to get there no matter what. This meant the first route is not an option. But how to proceed further was still not clear for me. To top it off, the recent terror incidents against mountain climbers in Pakistan made me question the continuation of the journey there.
All these things made my plans fall apart and took my attention, as this time I would have needed to make my diary entries and to write postcards. After resting in Bukhara for two days I could not afford to stay any longer. On the 9th of July, due to the time limit on my Visa, I had to get going. In his time Vámbéry had it easier. He had to travel in disguise, but he had no need for Visa and Letters of Invitation, so he could afford to stay in Bukhara for 18 days.
