Nothing bad ever happens

Bukhara is the second of the ancient Silk Road cities that still maintain the sense of the road. As I’ve mentioned, in China we were told, this was an important Silk Road city, but nothing remained of that aspect. It’s all been bulldozed and decayed and simply lost to the rubble of history over lo those many centuries ago. Our hotel was a downer. It’s a 15 minute walk to the old city whereas in Khiva we were just outside the city wall. They charge $4 an hour for internet whereas we had it free everywhere else, and since Carol needed new batteries for her camera and couldn’t wait to delay until we got to a market, the price was $15 for four AA’s, plus they only serve instant coffee. What’s this all about?
But nothing is totally lost. We became friends with the shop girl, Mari, we call her because as gringos, we can’t properly pronounce her real name Marhabo. She is a very sweet thing and who wanted our email address to keep in contact with us. We met a little Japanese lady in the elevator who was here on a birding trip. She’s about our age and was really cool. We saw her last night as we were all coming back to our rooms and she was in the lounge area on our floor. She was there with a couple of other birders and we had a nice conversation. John and the boys, as we all call them, came up in the elevator and I introduced John, with his fluent Japanese, to them. When we were all leaving to go to our rooms, I told John to tell her in Japanese that she had a very kind face. He did so and she put her head in her lap in embarrassment. John said she loved it, but they have to appear as if they don’t. This morning in the breakfast room, I heard: “On yea ah say oh,” the Korean greeting. I turned around and a little lady was there. I greeted her with the same words and she looked very surprised. Conversation ensued. I had my computer with Jeff and Anjin’s wedding pix on it and they were delighted and astounded. They live in D.C. now. So even though we thought the hotel was a bust, good things always happen. I always say that nothing bad ever happens to me when I travel, and this was just another example.
Bukhara is the second of the three Unesco world heritage sites we visit here in Uzbekistan. Khiva was the first, and Samarkand awaits. The city walls remain here although not with the same completeness as in Khiva. True they were very restored in Khiva, but it was cool that you could walk around the town in less than an hour with the wall totally intact. The silk road here in Uzbekistan as I’ve mentioned before is not just an asterisk in the guide book. It’s a living entity, not just a historical fact. Large medrassas, or learning centers, abound here, both from a historical perspective and a present day reality. The medrassa has a bad connotation in modern militant Islam, but that’s certainly not how they are used here now or in the past. They were just what they purported to be, learning centers.
Tall, blue-tiled minarets rise high above the limited skyline of the city. Khiva was a city of 50,000 with just 3,000 living inside the city walls. Bukhara is a much larger city with about 400,000 inhabitants. Hence, it lacks the intimacy of Khiva and since our hotel was not near the old city, it made the historical part of the city more remote. We walked the old parts and had a pleasant afternoon, but then went back to our hotel and it seemed like we’d been on a museum trip rather than living it in the midst of it. It seemed like a fast-paced modern city rather than a silk road museum like Khiva did.
The most impressive part of our old city tour was the Citadel which is part of the old city walls. We walked up the single ramp into the interior and it was very impressive. It was Sunday and all the women were out in their Sunday finest. The men are all pretty western, i.e. mundane, in their dress. Trousers and open necked collared shirts. But the women….talk about colorful. Our waitress in Khiva was bedecked in her traditional clothing instead of her “work” clothes when we saw her later in the day. We thought she was a novelty. But here in Bukhara they were everywhere, and it was a colorful feast for the eyes.
It’s usually a dress of varying length from mid-thigh to mid-calf with a matching pair of pants making it a shoulder to toe ensemble. Think of a color and think of any other color and that combination was worn by somebody. It truly was a kaleidoscope of color and design. Lines, swirls, patterns, random blending of colors, all were prevalent and displayed. Some were iridescent and just jumped out while others were muted tones which sort of just blended in and got lost in all the colorful displays around them. We were given the explanation as to why the women wear such bright colors and have the gold teeth. One of the ancient religions to predominate in the area was the Zoroastrians. They believed that man was good but that all humans had an evil eye and the bright colors repelled that evil. The same with the gold teeth. By flashing gold from their mouths, the women warded off evil spirits and were able to lead good lives.
Because it was Sunday, the people were out in force. Thousands crowded into the citadel, and we were, again, a source of interest and attention. We must have had our photos taken 30-40 times during the couple of hours we were there. School boys were very open about wanting the photo op, while school girls were more hesitant but eventually got up the nerve. On several occasions we saw that we were being observed and talked about with the girls poking each other encouraging one to go up and ask for a photo. Nothing would happen, but because we were all in the same place at the same time, we’d run into them again. Again the nudging would take place and eventually one would be brave enough to ask for the photo and when they say how accepting of the concept we were the flood gates would open and they all wanted pictures. Women of all ages got into the swing of things and their flowing robes swished as they scurried to involve themselves in the feeding frenzy.
We went down and had a bite to eat later in the evening. After a large lunch like we’ve been having, a big dinner is very far from our minds. Carol and I went looking for an internet café and a place to call our grandson on his 5th birthday. In the area of our hotel, there weren’t any restaurants and since I was in a pissy mood about our hotel, I wasn’t going to give them any of our money at their restaurant. We found a little place that had a picture of a hamburger on the signboard on the storefront, and so we went in and asked for one. “Hot dog?” came the response. “No, hamburger,” we responded. “Hot dog,” came the response. This time it wasn’t in the form of a question, but rather a factual account of the options. “Fine,” we said,” hot dog.” It came on a big Kaiser bun slathered in mayonnaise and catsup. There were cucumbers, shredded carrots, tomatoes, and maybe shredded onions all totally overpowering a skinny hot dog hidden within the bowels of the Kaiser bun. It was a bit sloppy, and we asked for napkins. The guy just looked at us and finally said, “Ein Moment,” and raced off out of sight. He reappeared with two tiny napkins. Anybody whose ever watched me eat anything juicy with my mustache and beard knows that one little 6x6 inch piece of paper ain’t gonna do it. Carol, being far more decorous than I offered hers in support of her slovenly husband. I still managed to get a combination of the catsup and mayonnaise all over me but at least we got some veggies out of it.
The next morning meant another bus ride, this time to Samarkand. This is what I’ve been waiting for on the the whole trip. Did I mention that the A.C. didn’t work – again. There’s gonna be blood on the bus soon if they don’t get this taken care of.