Travel Stories > Uzbekistan
The Golden Route To Samarkand
© Naomi Offler & Glenn Mair, 1995
In April and May 1994, we travelled together through the former Soviet Union. One of many highlights of that trip was a detour we took to Uzbekistan, the legality of which we never were able to determine. Anyway, months later, via fax between London, England, and Melbourne, Australia, we wrote the following article about Uzbekistan. However, having written the article, we never got around to selling or publishing it - life just got in the way. So here it is - now that global publishing only requires the click of a mouse...
THE SUN ROSE slowly, shedding its pale orange light over the many crescent moons of a Muslim cemetery gliding silently past our train window. The dawn saw us entering a new world set in an ancient land. For behind us we have left Russia and this dawn finds us traversing the patchwork quilt of newly independent nations which today make up the region formerly known as Soviet Central Asia. Our destination: The Republic of Uzbekistan, a nation which has been independent for less than three years, but which is home to cultures and traditions dating back centuries before the arrival of the first Russians in this land.
We are riding on one of the least know railways of the former Soviet Union, the Turk-Sib (Turkestan - Siberia) Railway. This line winds its way through the vast expanse of Siberia and the steppes of Kazakhstan, then skirts the mountains of Kyrgizstan and eventually finds its way into Uzbekistan. Our journey from the Siberian industrial giant of Novosibirsk to the Uzbek capital of Tashkent is some 3,000 kilometres and takes us nearly three full days of travelling.
The Turk-Sib line has rarely been travelled by Westerners. Indeed, our status on the train is doubtful for we are travelling without visas and using train tickets purchased for us by Russians.
This line was constructed during Stalin's reign of terror, at a time when all of Central Asia was closed to foreigners. When Central Asia was slowly opened up to Westerners in the mid 1960's, air was deemed to be the only suitable means of transport for foreigners. Intourist (the Russian government travel agency which enjoyed a monopoly until 1992) still maintains this policy today, refusing to sell Westerners train tickets for Central Asia. The reason for this policy was simple, trains in Central Asia did not satisfy the image of a modern, advanced Soviet State that Intourist was constantly endeavoring to present to the West.
In reality, the trains of Central Asia can only be described as rudimentary, and after travelling more than 13,000 kilometres by train through the old Soviet Union, we could only conclude that when trains were too old and worn out for service elsewhere, they are relegated to service on the Turk-Sib line. The facilities on the train, although run down, were quite adequate, and the experience of the journey far outweighed any discomfort endured on the train itself.
That foreigners are a rare sight on this train was confirmed by our reception. After being largely ignored by the Russians on the 'touristy' Trans-Siberian Railway, we found ourselves the objects of great interest and curiosity on this train. A constant stream of visitors passed through our compartment and we held countless conversations in crazy mixtures of Uzbek, Russian, English and, at one time, even Spanish, using what few common words of language we could find.
The three day journey took us through a world for which neither of us were prepared. From the ever-changing landscapes of vast grasslands, azure lakes and desert sand-dunes to the diversity of cultures, food and dress styles that decorated the platforms at every stop, the nations of Central Asia revealed themselves in a constantly unfolding display of colour beauty and life. At different times we would fleetingly glance out the window, only to be captured by the majesty of a Kazakh horseman as he galloped across the steppes or to be moved by the wisened face of an old Uzbek woman as she prepared her roasted chickens and naan bread for sale. Such scenes of everyday life became our lasting memories of the Turk-Sib Railway. However, for us, the end of one journey of discovery merely signified the beginning of another, as we eventually rolled in to Tashkent, the modern gateway to Uzbekistan...
* * * * *
Uzbekistan is a nation simultaneously heading both forwards and backwards in time. A nation trying to create its identity in the world and trying to establish itself as a separate player in the international games of politics and trade. In the wide, tree-lined streets of Tashkent, diplomatic cars are a common sight. Almost as common as the wealthy Arab, Israeli, American and European businessmen, without whom, the Hotel Uzbekistan in Tashkent would be all but empty. At US$85 per night, the Hotel Uzbekistan is the finest hotel in the country, complete with 1960's decor, creaking floorboards and dubious plumbing.
As this new nation moves forwards there is talk of great changes in the air: a new alphabet, with the adoption of the Roman alphabet in place of the Russian Cyrillic alphabet in 1996; a new railway, to link Uzbekistan and the other nations of Central Asia to the wider world via Iran's Indian Ocean ports; and even talk of a new gas pipeline to be built all the way to Japan, to help facilitate exports of the region's plentiful reserves of natural gas.
Whilst the nation is heading into the future, its past is also being actively sought and restored. Notions of traditional Uzbek culture, forcibly redefined in accordance with Soviet ideology, are now experiencing a new freedom of expression under a government intent on severing all ties with the nation's Soviet past. Islam is undergoing a significant revival, with many new converts. Christians and Jews are also pitched in the psychological battle to rekindle religious sentiments in Uzbekistan and, although seventy percent of the population is nominally Muslim, religion is not strictly observed in public life.
The blend of modernisation and tradition is particularly apparent in the bustling metropolis of Tashkent, where Caucasian Russians and indigenous Uzbeks live together amidst a curious mixture of concrete skyscrapers and age-old bazaars. Bowls of pilaf, a traditional dish of rice and vegetables, can be bought on most street corners and in the centre of the city the pilaf sellers still operate their stalls outside of ice cream parlours, bars and discos.
While Tashkent represents the modern face of Uzbekistan, a very different picture is painted in the historic towns of Samarkand and Bukhara. The face of Bukhara is that of the old men with their flowing grey beards matching their flowing black robes. They can be found at any time of day sitting in the chaykana, or outdoor restaurant, drinking tea, playing chess or dominoes and gossiping the day away. Time loses all meaning here, as the burning sun blazes its fierce arc across the sky. The main activity of the day is the regular need to move their benches, chasing the elusive shade of the mulberry trees.
The dichotomy between modern and ancient is just as obvious in architecture as it is in society itself. In the cities of Uzbekistan, and especially in Bukhara, the line between the ancient town and the modern, Soviet city can be as sharp as a line on a map. It is within the old towns of Uzbekistan that the true magic of this nation can be found. It is here that you discover the aquamarine domes of the mosques, madrassas and minarets sparkling like elusive gemstones in the mud-brick maze which is the old town.
* * * * *
To merely mention the name of Samarkand is sufficient to bring a romantic sparkle to the eye of many a person, as they quote the immortal words of James Flecker:
Sweet to ride forth at evening from the wells
When shadows pass gigantic on the sand,
And softly through the silence beat the bells
Along the Golden Road to Samarkand.Indeed, many times these words were quoted to us by people who had no idea where Samarkand actually was! This city is the jewel in Uzbekistan's architectural crown. Timur, the fourteenth century conqueror who is more commonly known as Tamerlane in the West, chose Samarkand to be the capital of his great empire. In Samarkand, Timur probably achieved his goal; to build himself a capital that would eclipse in luxury and beauty all other cities in the Orient. The two highlights of Samarkand are the Registan and the bazaar, neither of which have changed significantly from this time.
In 1888, British Lord Curzon described the Registan as "the noblest square in the world"1. Indeed, the Registan could well be described as the pinnacle of Islamic architecture. Three sides of this square are bounded by intricately decorated madrassas. The portals of these three buildings are covered in delicate mosaics constructed entirely from glazed tiles. Many of the mosaics have survived in tact over the centuries, and those that have not are being painstakingly restored. In addition to the great portals, the blend of architecture in the Registan includes both smooth and fluted domes, minarets, pillars and dozens of lesser archways, all of which are covered in similarly elaborate mosaics. The Registan is the original home of the blue-tiled domes now so associated with Islam throughout the Middle East. Indeed, the balance of architecture and artwork in Registan Square is so perfect that we could happily sit for hours just gazing down on this great square.
In Medieval days The Registan was the bustling heart of Samarkand, a wall-to-wall market place filled with the goods brought to this city by the great camel caravans that once plied the Silk Route between East and West. Such activity has deserted the Registan today as it stands quietly, empty other than a handful of mainly Uzbek sight-seers. However a feel for this past era can still be found a mere stone's throw away, in the Samarkand bazaar.
The bazaar also dates from medieval days and it is here, beneath the domes of yet another majestic mosque, that modern Samarkand meets to buy and sell a seemingly endless array of produce from India, Europe, China, the Middle East and the farm just down the road. The bazaar truly confirms Uzbekistan's position as the cross-roads of the continents.
We spent half a day exploring the bazaar, savouring the smell of the aromatic spices, feasting our eyes on the exquisitely beautiful woven cloths, haggling over prices for the fresh farm produce, cautiously eyeing the intricately decorated, long-bladed knives displayed by the metal-smiths and dining on the mouth watering kebabs and shashliks. Suddenly we discovered the one thing which we felt truly captured the essence of this rich culture. Woven in pure wool, with rich reds, deep blacks and vibrant yellows blending in perfect harmony, this magnificent carpet was draped, almost carelessly, across the bonnet of an old Lada car. At just US$30, it was also one of the world's greatest bargains! With the impulsiveness that strikes at the sight of such exquisite beauty, we were on the verge of handing over our precious dollars when a sudden, merciful wave of common sense swept over us. We were backpacking through the former USSR, a carpet would be far too heavy to carry and delivery services could not be relied on to safely transport our purchase for us. As we turned away, our vendor was almost as upset as we were, and in his enthusiasm to get a sale he promptly proceeded to roll up the rug to try to convince us of its portability!
We left Uzbekistan thankful of our decision to detour from the "ordinary" Trans-Siberian Railway route to explore an unknown country. These two short weeks were filled with images of friendly faces, warm weather and spectacular sights, images far removed from those that had been painted in our minds by our Russian friends: "Uzbekistan is a very dangerous place to visit! In Uzbekistan they do not like foreigners! Everything in Uzbekistan is in far worse condition than in Russia!" Fortunately, all of this advice had been far from the truth. Indeed, we felt Uzbekistan was a safer place to travel than Russia. We found the Uzbek people to be very welcoming to any foreigner who is genuinely interested in their country and their culture. And we found that most things in Uzbekistan were in far better condition than in Russia. Most things that is, but not the Turk-Sib railway.
1 Quoted from Olaf Caroe "Soviet Empire, The Turks of Central Asia and Stalinsim", Macmillan, London 1953
