The Fabled Silk Road Oases--July 16-19

Strung along the southern part of Uzbekistan lie three unique, ancient Silk Road cities that evoke fanciful images of turquoise domes, caravansarais, and teeming markets. It's safe to say it still exists, but with some 20th-century twists (can't say anything around here even comes close to the 21st century).

KHIVA--During the peak of the Silk Road era, Khiva was only a minor stop; however, it's fames spread across Asia during the 18th and 19th centuries as the biggest slave market (including some 3000 Russians) in Central Asia. The ruling khans, known for their capricious, barbaric cruelty would make the present-day Taliban look like pansies. They thought nothing of chopping up whoever crossed them, sending the heads up the road to their buddies in Bukhara and hanging the rest on the town gate.

Today, Khiva has been made over into a museum town. The life has been sucked out of it, and the only people wandering around the old town are camera-toting tourists. Cold drinks are sold for a premium, and the only restaurant in town has no menu, only soup or plov. The soup comes with a carrot, a piece of potato, and a piece of meat. The plov is the same, only substitute rice for broth. OK, Well, the walls are cool, so are the buildings, but let's move on--9 hours by bus across the Kyzlkum Desert is:

BUKHARA--Now this is more like it. With an old center relatively untouched by Russian influence, you can wander through over 1000 years of history. Once the cultural center of Central Asia with its bazaars, caravanserais, schools, and mosques, it met its end by shrieking Mongol horseman.

Risen again, Bukhara, like Khiva, was known for its depraved khans. Good old Nasrullah did in 28 of his relatives and finally beheaded two British soldiers (after a long stay in the "bug pit") because Queen Victoria never answered his letter.

I trudge around in the hot sun, through the markets, past the mosques and schools. Unfortunately, the "bug pit" is closed for the day. I look for food. There is one at the Lyabi-Hauz, a large pool surrounded by leafy trees and a few restaurants. Again, no menu, but we have chicken that will work.

SAMARKAND--This is one of those places I've wanted to see since I was little. I hurry to go to the Registan, a series of mosaic-covered "schools" or medressahs. It's roped off. School kids are marching around. Some are doing what looks like calisthenics in the 2nd -story archways. Music is blasting. It seems this is the rehearsal (which is going on all day, every day) for Samarkand's 2750th anniversary celebration.

I wander around this pedestrian unfriendly place, looking for a decent place to eat. Over breakfast at the hotel, a little bit pudgy Japanese guy tells me that he came to Uzbekistan: "to see it, and also because I need to lose weight. I think it is too drastic for me."

Samarkand was founded by the one and only Timurlane, claimant of dubious kinship with Genghis Khan, and who was responsible for his own massive bloodbaths across Asia. In his own bi-polar way, he turned Samarkand into a pradise of learning and culture. Uzbekistan has ordained his with hero status.

I have to interject here. that I don't see much difference from the khans of the Silk Road to the present day presidents of the various 'Stans. They've just reinvented themselves as "presidents for life." Political opponents disappear in jails or they're found dead in the desert. There are minimal, if any, human rights. The presidents have all become fabulously wealthy. Just substitute a business suit for a robe. Too bad Peter Sellers isn't still alive; he could play brilliantly the part of every president.

Walls of old Khiva

Bukhara


Even the ducks have their own little pleasure palace.



My favorite room to date. The painted parts on the wall are recessed alcoves.




The inside part of a typical courtyard house in Bukhara (my hotel)

In Samarkand for $15 I get a room with my own piano.

Common in Uzbekistan, you sit around these raised platforms and drink tea. When the power went off in the above piano room, I went outside, crawled into this and slept.

At the Registan in Samarkand