the opie-allbrook silk road adventures

8/3/2019 THE OPIE-ALLBROOK SILK ROAD ADVENTURES

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THE OPIE-ALLBROOK SILK ROAD ADVENTURES

IN CENTRAL ASIA, 2011.

It just fitted into Marg's school holidays. For us it was a blank. “What’s there? Don'tknow. Who’s there? Don't know. Why go? Because it’s there.”

Reflecting now on our journey of exploration; it was a fascinating pilgrimage into adistant history and alien culture. Quite unlike Western Europe or Australia. But the

people of Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan were welcoming, warm-hearted and handsome.So now I'm ready to sketch our impressions and share some of our hundreds of

photographs of our journey.

Because I was so ignorant, in the months before our journey, I read all I could find aboutthe Silk Road across Central Asia. I was intrigued and became hooked, and a bit

reassured that it would be a good trip.

The week before was a fun, catching-up time spent with family and friends living near London.

Sunday Sept 18 th

TRAVEL

6.30.am started with fond farewell’s to Elisabeth, our hostess at Putney by the Thames.An easy taxi to Paddington and the Heathrow Express took us to Turkish Airways thenvia Istanbul to Tashkent, capital of the Republic of Uzbekistan at 1am Uzbekistantime. Bad Turkish Airways lost some two of our party's luggage, not ours, for four days.

Now we are safely in Markazing Tashkent, a big hotel. We fell into bed exhausted,10.30pm London time, 3.30 am Monday, Tashkent time. Our room has heavy woodenfurniture, a plentiful shower and bath, comfy bed and noisy neighbours, large men of avisiting Pakistani rugby football team.

Monday Sept 19 th

TASHKENT

Half-awake for a late, early for us Londoners, breakfast fighting our way through the big time rugby team for a full, over full day.

Tashkent is a modern city of 2.5 million people, capital of the independent Republic of Uzbekistan. It shows little of its 2000 years of turbulent history of conquest by invadingwarlords and foreign armies and destructive earthquakes. It lies at the cross roads of the



ancient caravan Silk Road we have come to explore a little. It is an oasis town, built on ariver, amid a rich countryside of agriculture, pastures, vineyards and orchards of everyknown fruit tree. We had a full,- overful day.

We tour the city by coach with its imposing public squares, the monumental architectureof huge government offices, vast museums and pleasant suburban tree lined roads, all

linked by bus routes with an underground railway system modelled on the one inMoscow. We did not see much of the old town, just glimpses here and there.

We had a delightful lunch served by a fast flowing narrow concrete canal with artificialcataracts upstream from where we sit. The meal routine was what we came to expect inthe days which follow. Chopped up salad in small individual bowls, thin soup with achunk of boiled meat afloat. And a main course which was varied followed by a sweet of some kind.



We visit a madrassah – a place for the teaching of the Koran, where we joined a crowdto see on display a huge 7C Koran written on cowhide.We strolled round a vast circular covered market and made friends with several vendors.They were a jolly and talkative lot so we took shots with both our cameras. Mine is amovie loaned by Mike Woodcock and Marg's her own.

Then on to an interesting Contemp Arts Museum whose rooms had most magnificentceilings with intricate patterns in the richest colours. There were wall displays of carpetsand kilims.



Tashkent folk are proud of their Metro. The station wall illustrations were really a bitordinary compared to the spectacular Moscow ones. Exhausted, we were dragged roundthe Metro amid hustling commuter crowds. It was too like the London Underground inrush hours to excite me.

We collapsed into a shower at the hotel and were then taken to a fascinating contemp Art

Gallery for a very excellent and well earned dinner. This is written at 11pm in our hotelroom and a bit incoherent as a result of a day of many new experiences. But good.

Tues, Sept 20th

TASHKENT TO SAMARKAND

A long distance travel day from Tashkent to Samarkand, beginning in the city whose

huge buildings seem designed to cower the masses. Lovely parks, well designed andcared for. Fast well organised traffic, modern cars “Chevrolet- Darwoo” made inUzbekistan. A few horse or donkey drawn small carts, a few apartment buildings. Thereis talk of a 250mph train line to be built linking the two cities. It will take 2 ½ hours .We travelled fast in a comfortable coach, seats high above the cars we passed on a four way superhighway. We have two drivers and our local guide Masur, who is articulateand eager to pass on local knowledge.

We called in at a Tabib Sufi Centre and took some good shots there, beginning to getthe hang of how this movie camera works. Impressive place with a good feel about it.

All about health and fitness and long and happy life style.

Our lunch there was delicious and we were entertained by musicians playing delightfulmusic and sufi style dancing which the yougest of our party called Lenka joined in. Thehealth clinic teaches naturotherapy, iridology, reflexology massage, meditation andherbal remedies. In the Sufi School they learn martial arts etc , taught by the Master.However, the man who spoke with us was a student aged 34 who had been there sincehe was 18. He told us that he had only six years to go before he also became a Master.Bad smelly toilets and introduction to squats for the women.... But otherwise a beautiful

place and very fine people. An enjoyable visit, especially for us four incognito doctors inour party!



We had a few comfort stops en route, honey, apple and melon wayside markets. Thelatter deserted as the sellers have all gone off to pick cotton.There are hundreds of these

people, including uni students, passing in buses to the extensive cotton fields which in

some places stretch as far as the eye can see. It is a major cash crop, most of it exportedto Russia. It has to be harvested at exactly the right time when the flowers are atmaturity. Masur said cotton picking is hard, back breaking work and as a student hedevised his own way of getting out of it! Cotton uses up nutrients and the soil chemicalsare artificially replaced. They seem to have a rising salt problem, like some of our marginal land. Later we saw the scale of the water problem created by the Soviets in thereduced size of the Oxus River and the drying of the Aral Sea. There are water channelsand open irrigation piping all through the farming areas where cotton, corn andsunflowers are grown. Later out of the agricultural eastern part we saw flocks of sheep,cows and storks nesting on the power poles.

Lavinia Byrne read some good poetry and relevent early accounts of the Silk Road fromFrancis Wood's book- which I read at home. One person remarked that travel along theSilk Road would have been more interesting a hundred years ago. Certainly and alsotaken many more days.

Our hotel in Samarkand is the charming and small Grand Samarquand Hotel. Wearrived at 5.45pm and relaxed until dinner at 7.30. Nice room , no air conditioning, butthe climate is warm. We had a truly lovely dinner and drank vodka, wine and cognac to

wash it down.

We have three University College London people in our party. Richard Price whofollowed me in the Anatomy Department- but a long time afterwards- is now inconsultant practice as a neurologist in SE London and Aqnita Mc Cormick who is acataloguer /researcher of scientific instruments at the BM. We are 18 in all and likely to

be good company with four doctors , teachers, two lawyers, a clinical psychologist, astock broker, a Catholic parish priest and retired people. We are led by Lavinia Byrne



who was for many years a nun, but retired from her Order because of conflict with theVatican over something she had written about women. She will be a good leader. Fellinto bed at 10.30 with a temtab for a good sleep.

Paleontologists have shown human habitation near Samarkand at 40,000 years ago andmundane archeologists date urban settlements here to the 6C BC. Trade routes from itrun west to Persia, east to China and south to India. The oasis settlement was a true Silk

Road crossroad meeting place for trade and conquest. It was “The Mirror of the World,the Garden of the Soul, the Pearl of the East and Centre of the Universe” watered by theZerafshan River and flanked by the Pamir- Alai mountains. It has had a central place inthe long history of Central Asia, the centre of the great Sogdian empire of the region.I have been intrigued by Samarkand's changing cultures over the centuries which reflectthe story of spiritual faith beliefs in a fascinating way, not so obvious in the history of Western Europe. Especially of Zoroastrianism whose traces are everywhere in

buildings.

Zoroastrianism was about in the eastern Roman Empire. At the time of the 4thC and5thC Christian church it seemed to be the predominent influence in central Asia. Perhapsit resonates with the story of ' wise men came from the East ' of St Matthew's Gospel

birth of Jesus? In our later explorations we found its signs and symbols of triangles etcwidespread in the wall decorations of older Islamic buildings.

Wed Sept 21st

SAMARKAND

We breakfast in the open air inner courtyard of the hotel. Very pleasant place. Several

people unwell in the party and a couple whose cases haven’t yet arrived. We are luckyto have ours.

The day begins with a visit to Ulegbek's Observatory. A man ahead of his time who gottogether all the knowledgeable astronomers of the day.



Timerlane's mosque where there is an amazing gateway, an enormous Koran holder and

lots of ruins after an earthquake, was next on our itinerary.

At the markets next door we tried apricots stuffed with walnuts and sugar coatedalmonds. Tasty snacks!

Our final site for the day was Registan Square with two madrassahs and a caravanserai,which now house craft stalls. On to dinner at a “private” house with about a hundredother guests.



Everyone has a passport for internal travel, for example our driver had four movementcontrol documents. The democratic voting system was for one political party.

A Russian style wine tasting in the afternoon was a hoot. We are solemnly seated in tworows facing each other with the stern wine master at one end firmly taking control. Infront of each person was an oblong tray with a similar two rows of twelve samplingglasses. We are given a talk about each one and told to taste. I thought they were all

nonpotable except possibly number 7 which Marg and I agreed on and bought. It was a pleasant desert wine for US$5. Later we served it at our final tour dinner to everyone'sacclaim. We hardly touched a drop.

The next event was a real wow! In a nearby small Salon, we all stood against one wall

and were entertained to an amazing, colourful and altogether superbly surprising fashionand dance parade of lovely girls dressed in exotic colourful custom designed draperiesand gowns. Stunning! I have a lot of it on my movie's long shots. Marg bought adesigner jacket for $US100.



Our evening dinner was a variation on the same theme. We dined upstairs on aninternal balcony. The menu variations begin with chopped salads on small plates,followed by a meat and chicken or lamb/ goat soup and pilau.

Friday, Sep 23rd

SAMARKAND TO NAVOI and BUKHARA

Before breakfast I wander round the rather run down side streets and houses of suburbanSamarkand near our very pleasant hotel. Today we had breaker inside the hotel rather than outside.

We set off to see Tamerlane's tomb at his mausoleum, Gur Emir , the Tomb of theRuler, built in 1403, completed by Tamerlane himself after threatening the workers with

death if it was not finished in ten days! Now restored in its full magnificence of size, proportions and detail. I found its panjara network tile design of straight lines and nonails to hold them in place- Anita said like one of the bridges over the Cam inCambridge- very odd to look at, for as I stared closely at the design I found the patternsappear to interact in an odd way. Perhaps its just me. Or was it so designed? The wholeoctagonal place has been restored lavishly with gold colouring and recessed lighting.

The inscription 'God is Immortal’ is in Kufic script, and the huge dome is sky blue with jaded glazed tiles. The great slab of jade stone covering the central tomb is Tamerlanes.The one with a pole and horse hair was a saint. It looks odd but it symbolises the haj to

Mecca.. The ones at his feet and surrounding are his son and grandsons, one the greatUleg Beg the Astronomer Khan among them. These stones are cenotaphs, because theactual tombs are in crypts below ground level.

We were the last people to leave this place as it was being closed for a visiting foreignVIP. This caused a traffic jam in which we were stuck with a good deal of hooting and

poor temper. We drove to the '' beautiful” Voxal Railway Station to wait for our train toNavoi . When it finally arrived it reminded me unfavourably of our seven day ride toMoscow in 2009. It was a bit grubby and full and I had a seat where people banged intome passing down the central aisle. The windows were dirty and so there was no chance

of photographing the countryside we passed through. Fortunately it was only a two and ahalf hour trip by train. Navoi is an unattractive industrial city with unattractive masshousing for the workers set in a vast dry steppe. Unfortunately we did not go to a

prehistoric site for which this place is famous. During the bus ride to Bukhara we had anumber of interesting sideshows on the road. A pottery and ceramic workshop, whichwas like others I have seen and a needlework workshop which I found more interestingand where Marg bought a cushion cover.



We visit an isolated restored caravanserai on one side of the fast traffic highway and onthe other, a watering hole – down steps to an evaporative air cooled small chamber.Quite interesting, reminding us of the scorching heat of the coming summer at home andour own domestic evaporative system.

I mentioned the miles and miles of cotton fields we had passed earlier in our trip. This

time we stopped and had an interesting practical demo about cotton from Mansur. About planting, it’s maturing, flowering and picking. Every bit of the plant is used, seed,cotton, calyx and stem. It is harvested in vast quantities each year and exported toRussia. We were joined by the manager and two labourers to investigate theseinterlopers. Mansur repeated his tale of what back breaking work it is and how as astudent he bamboozled his way out of it.



To our Atlas Hotel in the centre of restored Bukhara where we found a pleasant roomwith two beds and a window on to a courtyard. We very much enjoyed a hot shower andchange of clothing after a fair bit of travelling this Friday.

Our dinner was near the hotel at a delightful 'do it yourself smorgasboard' Uzbek mealeaten at Lyat-ik Hauz Restaraunt.,peacefully sitting by a floodlit artificial lake A most

pleasant evening afterwards wandering round floodlit buildings with a market streetstill busy with vendor stalls and strolling couples like us. Back to bed at 10.30 pm after afull and interesting day of new experiences and places.

Saturday, Sept 24 th

BUKHARA OR BUXORO

'Samarkand is the beauty of the earth, but Bukhara is the beauty of the spirit' or

''Bokhara , the most shameless sink of iniquity that I know in the East.”

It has a history going back at least to the sixth century BC, occupied by Alexander theGreat in 329 BC. It maintained its significance as a trading centre of the ancient Sogdianempire of Central Asia until about the 10thC AD.

Marg and I have each written our own areas of perceptions and comments on this

amazing place.

We explore in and around Shakristan the old town which Marg says has piped water andgas to every house, but the houses have septic tanks, emptied by truck or bin if the houseis inaccessible. The town is built on a water table, so damp is never far below thesurface.

We wandered through back streets to the Chor Minor, or 'four minarets' an interestingsmall and quirky building built in 1807. Marg noted the minarets at each corner were

built for the father’s four unmarried daughters. I quite like it and think the minarets with

their blue conical tops are phallic symbols. The madrasah has a central dome andalthough I enjoyed climbing around inside it and up on to the roof I acquired quite a fewskin abrasions. Marg noticed doors of the houses had two knockers and wondered why,one for women, and the other for the man. I did a small sketch in my note book toremind me of the place and made a few camera shots.



We feel comfortable in this central part of the old city near our hotel. Its surrounding

buildings are an architectural delight round a centrally placed large rectangular lake andmagnificent surrounding buildings of classic Islamic architecture.

I have, or had, splendid shots of the 155 foot high and most graceful Kalon Minaret,the 'Tower of Death'- named for extra bad criminals who died after being hurled from itstop. This 'javelin thrust into the heart of the old town' still dominates the skyline, as itdid in times past to guide travellers across the desert and call them to prayers. It wasreputedly built in 919AD, destroyed in 1068 and rebuilt on deep mortar foundations of

camel milk, egg yolk and bull's blood. It has had a chequered history of calamity andrebuilding and the present magnificent restored tower is now a UNESO protected site.



I am having trouble, shared by others of our party, in putting together coherent stories of all we do each day. We do so much and see so many new sights. All of which relate toancient stories of people unknown to us. Some memories are vivid because of amemorable incident; others quickly fade until something triggers the memory. ReadingMarg's notes does this, helping me recall sites and stories. So it is good to read our different perspectives from the combined notes plus the guide book. Writing this hasfacilitated the recall of fleeting memories which return, often in detail.

We stroll round the gardens which now house the Ismael Samani Mausoleum.Although almost covered by sand a hundred years ago it has been restored to something

near its ancient glory. It is constructed as a huge perfect cube, with walls of intricate



lacelike brickwork supporting a hemispheric domed roof. Its four corners are massive.We are told it dates from the beginning of the tenth century and is a representation of thinking about the world view of philosophers at the height of the great Sogdian empireCentral Asian civilization. Thus it is full of architectural references to the Zoroastrian

culture and religious beliefs, though nevertheless being a Islamic mausoleum with itsmain tomb of Ismael Samani. I would like to know more about this place and visit itagain.

Marg notes seeing part of the original city wall of old Bukhara, most destroyed by theRed Army in1920. But I can't recall it at all. But I do remember visiting Job's spring, amosque called Chashma Ayab where legend says the prophet rescued the people from adrought and famine by stricking the dusty desert earth with his staff making water flowfrom it. It sounds a bit like the Moses story in Exodus.... I believe this is the site wherewe were told the water has a high iodine content- of interest in what has to be an iodine

poor environment. But it might have been elsewhere. My rough diary is so vague andMarg's doesn't help much either.

I have done a couple of water colour paintings of our visit to the dramatic entrance to theBolo Hauz Mosque, or 'mosque- by- the- pond'. We were told that on Fridays a deepred coloured carpet was laid over its front steps for the Emir to walk on as he passedfrom the Ark Fortress into the interior of the mosque. It is indeed most elegant in designwith a frontal entrance of carved wooden stalactite shaped pillars supporting its loftyCarved roof panels. It became a Soviet Worker's Club.



Marg talks about visiting the Kalon Mosque which I vaguely recall seeing as a hugeopen space with interesting tiled walls. We walked through it quite fast; at least I did

bcause at that time I did not know its great significance. However our guide book givesits history which goes back to early Islamic times in Bokhara, although it was totallydestroyed – along with the whole existing city- by Genghis Khan in 1219. The presentMosque was rebuilt in 1514. Old enough! I have fleeting memory pictures of walkingthrough this place, although at the time I had no idea of its history. Or if I had, I have

forgotten itagain, oh dear. As tourists we pack so much into a morning and passthrough places of great interest almost at a trot. My inclination is to loiter and investigatewhat interest or intrigues. Not so good in a tourist party. One tends to get left behind andlost.

I vividly remember our lunch on Saturday. It coincided with a 'hen's' wedding party onthe dance floor. From the balcony above where we dined I took movies of the girls incolourful long dresses swirling in dance, having a wonderful time in which Lenka

joined. She is a good dancer and hyperactive. It was all a lot of fun and an insight intothe lives of real people. Incidentally I must say here that although women here cover their bodies as part of the Islamic culture, they really, really know how to do it withmaximum effect using delightful colours and graceful posture.Our meal was standard format and unexceptional.

We walk up the sloping road to the imposing western entrance to the huge Ark Fortress

which for getting on for two thousand years, has been a central fortress and palacearound which Bukhara has grown. I have done a quick sketch in my rough diary of what to me is a 'memory picture.' The place has been burnt , destroyed and rebuilt atleast three times in its history. The present structures were completed in the 16C as the

palace of the emir and more, having several thousand people living within itsfortifications. Apart from the palace, there was the necessary harem plus throne rooms,treasury, mosque, offices, slave rooms, and naturally, disgusting dungeons.



During the Red Army takeover of Uzbekistan in 1920 they destroyed much of the placethe remains being only partly restored as museums, which is what we have exploredtoday. I was interested in the history museum, with its hall of mirrors and a portrait of itsarchitect. It could have been greatly improved with expert advice.

The Ark is an impressive place and in spite of its incomplete restoration has a verydistinct 'atmosphere' about it.

Afterwards in the afternoon of Saturday we went to the Zenka or old city jail. Old prisons never delight nor interest me and this did neither. We were told various horror stories of unfortunate prisoner's incarceration here, suffering appalling degradation andhorrors. Man's inhumanity to man exemplified. I wandered round the exhibition andsoon had enough. We had a short visit to the outside porch of Mir-I Arab Madrassah,

a significant current orthodox theological Koranic teaching institution. It was built in the16C as a kind of penance by Shaybani Ubaydullah Khan for an outrageous bit of profiteering in selling 3000 Persian slaves. We are told it has currently over a hundredstudents training as imams. The instruction is 100% Koranic fundamentalism with nodeviations allowed from this subject. We are told it is crucial to Uzbekistan's Islamicrevival.

One of our party threw a wobbly like a bad tempered child and refused to come with usto the Magok -i-Atari mosque. He as a lawyer of course, used to doing this in court Isuppose. Anyway Lavinia coped well with the situation. I found the visit well worth

while even though we were tired out . Of course our friend had a point- the day had been packed full of new experiences.

We had our evening meal in the courtyard of a madrassah- remember it is a place of instruction of any art or craft, philosophy, mathematics or theology or I supposecooking.Madrassas emphasizes the importance of science, philosophy, literature and mathematics



in mediaeval Islamic culture. We sometimes forget this, but this trip reinforces it. Our evening meal was a variation on the usual as far as I remember accompanied by classicallocal music performed beautifully.

Afterwards we very much enjoyed wandering round the lake near our hotel. It and thesurrounding buildings are flood lit with stunning effect. It was very romantic. We

admired it all, sharing the evening warmth with many other couples and families onholiday from other parts of Central Asia and elsewhere. We loved the life- sized statue of the 'wise fool' on horseback, beautifully done and looking good in silhouette. The peopleare kind, friendly and relaxed, both visitors and locals and vendors in the nearby stalls of the madrassa.

Sunday Sept 25 th

BUKHARA

A welcome easy day. I was pleased we revisited the Magok-i-Attari mosque or thePit/Spices Museum as it is of particular archeological interest. The mosque site levelswere excavated by the Russian archeologist VA Shishkin in the 1930's. He showedlayers over 2000 years of ? animistic shrines, a Buddhist monastery, a Zoroastriantemple and latterly Islamic mosques. I would like to know even more and explore morefrom this site. I took a few pictures. The name signifies its antiquity and that it wastraditionally a place for the sale of spices.

Adjacent to it is the Carpet Museum, where there was a huge pile of varied carpets onthe floor and on the walls. Most of the carpets were truly magnificent with rich coloursand complex designs. No machine made carpets here!. A vendor made fruitlessatttempts attempts to get a buyer from our party. Near our pool is an ancient mulberry tree with nearby two buildings. One with amosque at the centre and unseen from the outside, accommodation for dervishes. Marghas a story about this one. A man went to Afganistan and brought back a small pair of



expensive earings for his wife. She refused them saying they were too small and cheapfor her ears. He sold one and built the Kukaldash Madrassah. On showing her the

building he explained that he had built it with one earing. He gave her the other anddivorced her.On the opposite side of the square is our friend on a donkey- a Don Quixote like person-the wise fool beside this is the Nadir Divanbezi Madrassah, built as a caravanserai, but

used as a school at the command of the King or Emir.

We had a leisurely morning tea with sweet cakes at a famous and very crowded tea-house. Then later we did some shopping for seven placemats as presents for Marg's'gang' and the sale girl threw in an extra one for being “good guests.” Delightful quietand peaceful shopping. I can't remember where we lunched but Marg records it was“vegies, pumpkin soup , not too tasty, then lamb stew with cabbage, chocolate cake andtea. Not too big.”I lunched with Lavinia and Geoffrey the Catholic parish priest from Devon. She

recommended Islam in the Modern World, Malise Ruthven , Harvard U. Press. Shehopes to visit Perth in 2012 and we warmly invited her to our place.Back in the hotel Marg with five of our women in the party went to “a bathhouse or

hammam for women. We had to strip, then went into a warm room. A woman used a wetglove to take the dead skin off our bodies, washed us down, washed our hair. Then wewent into another room to be massaged again, then led out to be given a small sheet towrap ourselves in and became much cooler. We got a cup of tea, relaxed, dried off anddressed. Three women did all the work, Mansura, Rose and a younger woman. It cost$25 each but we all left a good tip. I felt really clean, but my skin was dry so Imoisturized it.”

While all this was going on I climbed on to a low roof and did a rather poor sketch andcolour wash of buildings adjacent to our hotel.We walked to a most interesting evening meal at a private house where in the outsidekitchen we watched the preparation of a large gas and wood -fired bowl of pilau, thenational party-dish, prepared with meticulous tipping and stirring of each new item intowhat seemed a most complex bowel of food bubbling away.From the crowded kitchen under the sky we troop into a quite beautiful oblong diningroom with high moulded ceiling lit by chandeliers. The decor was from the 1960's. Wewere seated each side of the long dining room table, nicely appointed. Round the wallswere all sorts of memorabilia, an interesting and delightful place. The pilau tasted every

bit as good as its long preparation suggested it might be. We walked back to our hoteland slept the night through in comfort.

Monday Sep 26 th



470 KM - BUKHARA TO KHIVA

Beginning at 8.30 am we begin a twelve hour coach journey across the Kyzyl KumDesert. It resembled parts of the Australian NT rather than the Sahara. A desolate stretchof low shrubs and scrub with the occasional camel train and flocks of sheep seen as we

pass. We stop for watering,, resting and to eat our packed lunch at a couple of water holes. They were both ramshackle places, scattered with discarded plastic and tin litter and criss crossed by water pipes for storage. Lots of small birds too. One wonders whatit would be like in the Central Asian baking hot summer or snowbound freezing winter.

About 3pm the road deteriorated and in places was very rough, but our coach driver persisted along it, sometimes very precariously and always bumpily at about 15 mphmaxi for long sections. This tediously went on for most of the rest of the journey.But alongside us was a spanking new concrete road, blocked off awaiting completionand official opening. I could not help thinking of our Main Roads constructing and atonce opening new sections of new and commercially significant inter-city truck roads,which I suppose is what this is.

The last stop is by the shockingly narrow stream which was all that is left of the mightyOxus River draining into the Aral Sea- itself desiccated. Mansur blamed Stalin's policywhen he did a malignant job drawing the new boundaries of the CIS Soviet Republics,ensuring future water problems and mutual antipathy and political struggles for water resources. According to Mansur, there had been both poor rains and Turkmenistandrawing off irrigation water, starving and controlling supplies to much of western

Uzbekistan. Sounds familiar to us Aussies!



We are thankful to sight the walls of remote and distant Khiva in dark twilight and at oneof their corners 'decoach' at the welcoming Hyat Mouat Inn Hotel.We venture out that first evening and peep through the South gate nearest to our hotelinto a residential area within the city. I explored this the next day with its shops andcarpenter's workshop making doors and furniture and avoiding circling dogs.Unfortunately Marg woke during the night with a belly ache and by morning wasvomiting and had diarrhea. Three others of our party had the same problems. Marg

thinks it was the chicken in the packed lunch which we found afterwards was left all themorning unrefrigerated in the hot bus. She stayed put Tuesday morning.

Tuesday Sept 27 th

KHIVA, KHOREZAM

The archeological history of this vast remote desert region south of the Aral Seaindicates that it was once agricultural land with separate wealthy fortified city states

within its boundaries. Their fascinating stories, cultures and city plans go back hundredsof years BC and forward to the time of Alexander and Tamerlane. Today the region islargely desert and lies within both Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. There are a number of Unesco protected city sights, but old Khiva is the only one well restored and functioningas a modern city. There are Soviet towns near Khiva connected by rail, but we were‘romantically’ far from these! Khiva is both remote and largely intact in its architecture,yet it is still a living city with a working population within its great walls.

Our hotel room is pleasant and looks out on to a garden and adjacent separate

banqueting hall, where we are served breakfast with great efficiency by three charmingyoung, smartly dressed women.



I take pictures of the well restored huge sloping city walls with their protuberances atintervals, which conveys some aesthetic value to me. We become used to walking half the length of one wall of the oblong shaped plan of the city. The official tourist entry is

by the Ota Darvosa or Father Gate onto the main drag Polvon Qori which runs fromwest to east through the inner fortified city. Waving passes what is left of our party goinside to explore the sites. On the right I go up to a large imposing madrassah , now

partly the Malika Hotel, past one of the sights of Khiva, a massive brilliant jade green

Short Minaret or Kalta Minor. By its colours and girth to me it somehow stilldominates the inner city. Built in the 18C it was to have been the tallest and biggest inall Islam. However its construction was cut short by the untimely and gruesome death of its architect. Such stories of violence, cruelty, murder and death seem commonplace.

I explore, with or without the party, the ancient Kukhna Ark with its history of previousfortresses beginning it is said in the 5C. I climb inside the tower in the Ark and from a



high verandah photograph the buildings and houses of today's inner city people.I look down on the Emir's former harem, NOW empty.

It is a packed morning with memories and images of madrassahs, mosques and museumslike this writing, scrambled together- images, sounds and architecture.

The party visited a madrassah very similar in its intent to the Dobag project in Turkey.

These girls had been trained to hand make silk carpets. I took photos of them at work,weaving on the hand operated looms, combing and cutting. They are said to get paid

properly for the work they do. Richard the doctor bought a gorgeous double sided onefor $5000.

I explore on foot the bustling back streets of the residential area and get lost and find myway out easily.



In the evening Marg and I go to an hour of Chorism dance performance by a familywhose star thesbian is a five year old who knows his complex routine,singing, hand andfootwork movements to perfection. High pitched singing. Marg comments “Typicaltourist stuff.” I feel slightly uncomfortable by what seemed to be the use of a five year old.

We walked to our evening meal where I dined well, but Marg returned her small nibblesto nature.

Wednesday Sept 28th

TRAVEL TO ASHGABET, TURKMENISTAN

At 7.30am a memorable pleasant breakfast, served by 'our three girls'.

We are up early for a long day along the Silk Road, crossing the border intoTurkmenistan Republic. Our coach got us there by 9.30am. This was an authentic travelday, taking about three hours to accomplish the border crossing. This is a major screening event at both borders, each staffed with many officials ill equipped with theEnglish language. There are three checks for each of us- passport, X-ray or body searchand a tedious form detailing money and goods. One couple had problems with Customs

because of declaring a lovely new souvenir painted plate, which happened to have painted on it an ancient year date. Was it an antique??? NO! No! We all wait until this issorted out by some higher ranking official. On both borders we have body searching’sand electronic screenings. NOT for me! I even saunter off to have a pee, but no armed

guards seem too upset. All our passports were handed to the woman who is to be our new guide. Despite long waits, unshaded in hot sun, I think we are treated specially,

because the crowds of locals are patiently waiting their turn without much movement.Lavinia is a skilled soother of ruffled tempers displayed by our lawyers. We pile,cramped into a minibus which takes us across no man's land. The driver must have done

pretty well from the confusion over fares from us lot!

At Dashgovez we were taken to a new and architecturally modern hotel to clean off thesweat and dust of our journey. We need it. The open large reception area was almost

empty of guests. We were served a full lunch about which I have minimal memory.

We pile into our new coach transport and set off for a later day of interestingarcheological explorations of the sand buried, now excavated, cities of ancientKhorezam.

We were told that the people of this kingdom of Khorezm are a distinct ethnic group ,not Uzbeks, not Turkmens and have their own language and customs.



Our coach stopped for some reason at the present town of Urgench, and we watchedsmall town life in process

We went on to the UNESCO site of the dead sand covered ancient and very historicdesert city of Kone Urgench. The Unesco protected sites cover a large tract of desertwith ruined 'skeletons ' of madrassahs, mosques, palaces and private houses. We spent along time exploring this and one other site of an old mausoleum and a very tall butcrooked minaret.

The sun was setting. We had our dinner back at Dasgovez.We were both getting tired by

this time. It had been a long day and there was still more to come. By the time we werewriting this up time had passed and memories are a bit confused.

We coached to Dashgovez airport for the usual interminable processing through securityand at last caught a night flight of one and a half hours across the desert to



Ashkabat.Our coach took us through the central area of the still floodlit capital. Verylate at night we were taken to the new and fairly poorly serviced Hotel Ak Alatyn. Wehumped our own bags and helped others find their rooms and at last fell into bed in thesmall hours of Thursday.

Thursday Sept 29th

ASHKABAT, TURKMENISTAN AND TRAVEL

Happily we reported for our day's sightseeing at 10am. We call in at an architectuallynew mosque amid gardens on the way to a relaxing morniing at the stables of a famousHorse breeder Ashir who had entertained there the rich and famous before us thesegorgeous smooth coated golden coloured horses are like well-trained giant pets. Marg



thinks they 'look a bit skinny, but have strong limbs.' To prove it she was led round acircuit by a groom. She has a good 'seat' on a comfortable saddle, unlike her wildexperience in S America! We wander round the stables and are entertained to morningtea+flies. I have taken photos of the well furnished and comfortable inside of the yerka,

the owner’s tented home.On the way back for lunch we stop to have fun watching asheep market where black and white and spotted sheep bred with specially fatty hindquarters are bought and sold. There was a lot of running about and shouting, dust and

good fun. The blokes are cheeky too. Maybe these fat sterns account for the nature of some of our soups which consist of a lump of meat in a clear liquid with floating oil

pools. We now avoid this dish!

We pass a splendid mosque built by Turkmenbasy, the first President of modernTurkmenistan. Not only did he pay for the building. But he had some of his 'Sayings' puton its minaret’s. Naughty, naughty! Only quotes from the Koran are allowed in mosques.It speaks volumes about the difference between Islamic culture and Islam as worship of

and obedience to Allah. This was about self-aggrandizement of a man who died after amere six years as the first President following seventy years of Soviet rule.

The population of the whole Republic is about six million. We see plenty of evidencethat the grandiose building program continues. The wealth that this shouts is of coursefrom exploitation of the immense gas and oil reserves in Turkmenistan. UnsurprisinglyAustralian exploration companies are active here. One of my artist friend’s son travelsroutinely here from Perth as a supervising engineer.

We do a tour of the new city centre with its mega monuments, manicured gardens,

fountains and vast new public buildings. We see sports academies, theatres and even a'Disney' park. There are cars about, but almost no people. It feels a bit weird. Thescenario reminds me of a movie set, more than a functioning city centre.But since Soviet times we are told that the cost of living is trivial, because of free or low

rentals, and free gas and electricity. This is all changing as new dwellings are for purchase only.



After an indifferent delayed lunch, we drive by coach to spend the rest of the afternoonat Nissa. The sand buried windblown remains are being well restored by Italian andRussian archeologists.

It is an ancient Parthian citadel founded by Arcedes who reigned there between BC250-211 where it was reputed to house the necropolis for Parthian kings during the period200BC – 300AD. Nissa is a permanent UNESCO protected site. Its main areas are

covered by protective roofing against the harsh climate here. But we see plenty of evidence of erosion. Some of the brickwork has been fortified with concrete as a

preservative. My Google search now gives a list of the scientific publications to date of this important site. We clamber about the hill wandering in and out of roofless halls,

passages and houses. I see that it was strategically well placed on a steep hill andwander alone. It has been a late return for dinner after a full and interesting day.

Friday Sept 30 th

TO MARY FOR THE DAY

This is an optional extra to the main trip and was well worth doing.Oh dear! Once again at that airport after getting up at 5am. For some unknown reason Imade shots of us on the way to the airport.

7.00am flight to Mary pronounced 'mayreee'. Marg has us having a 'cuppa at a poshhotel, saw a bbq kebab' and there is this homely incident I caught on camera of a mantrying to load a new TV into the back of his car. The old man was praying, I think

because they were having trouble with a kitten who would not come out from its hiding place under the car. Quite amusing to watch the hunt from our safe haven high above in

our coach. I think all ended well for the kitten.

Marg writes “we then stopped at Abdullah Khankali city wall.” It wasn't properlyexcavated. I remember wandering to explore the site by myself and that Lenka was sentoff at a trot to hussle me back to the coach. A man with a camel watched us embark.



We went on to Merv which Marg writes she found more interesting than Nisa. Our guide gave us a good account of the Merv UNESCO sites which I recorded in part. Thesite is about 2500 years old and the various buildings preserved in the area range fromvery ancient The central feature is the vast mausoleum of Sultan Sanja the inside andoutside we spent some time exploring . I have a recording of the echoes of one of our

party’s singing and then moved on to other sites. Marg notes the pigeon holes whichwere interestingly carved for decoration.

It was today that we were invited to join a feast. This was at a 'sacrifice centre' where people who are grateful to Allah for some special thing celebrate by killing a malerooster, lamb or goat or even a calf. The beast is butchered on the spot. We saw a festivecrowd in the best clothes – especially the handsome faces and elegantly dressed women

– preparing this big communal feast. It was an amazing and very new sight for us,culture in action! Everyone wanted to be photographed and David certainly got somelovely sequences. We were invited to join in the feast, which we did. We both got shotson camera of this colourful and noisy celebration as we joined the festivities. I wasamused that the one table entirely of men were hardly speaking to each other. Differentto the noisy women and kids. All great fun!



Nearby was a tomb which women were walking round we are told three times. They are praying for answers to some particular family issue. Also a wishing well.

Marg says we went on to see more of Merv and climbed a hill which was capped by theremains of a Parthian watch tower. I decided not to be outdone and puffed my way up

that rough path. Quite like my morning walks at home. At the top was a wide vista. Wetook group photos of our party.

My diary misses out the rest of Friday. But Marg's lists the places we briefly visited thatmorning. An 'icehouse' for keeping winter snow and ice during the summer. “Not surehow long it could last.” Not long at 45Celsius I think!

Then a place of two mauseleums belonging to the standard bearers of Mohammed; withthe tombs of Amr al Sifari and Buruda ibn al-Haseb both of whom lived in the 7thC.

The portals are from 5 thC Timurid period.

Last of all in a packed day we visit Kys Kalas, a 7th C one large for men and one smallcastle for women. We were told a story about the challenge of getting from one to theother. I can't remember the details!



We drove back to town for a poor lunch at a cafe. As our plane back to Ashgabat was notuntil 7pm Marg writes “we had to fill the afternoon. Stopped off at a Russian Orthodoxchurch as a small wedding was finishing.They only had a service and were bythemselves really. Unlike the Moslems in Uzbekistan who have a party for at least aweek. It seems Turkmens have the wedding, then the couple go home to parents for 15-40 days and are not meant to see each other over that time, but they do.”

We wander round a bazaar by a railway line and station. Cheap stuff only. A group of usgo to the Museum shop next to our hotel. The vendors are a bit overwhelmed by thissudden influx. And it was closing time anyway. However after a good deal of barteringMarg bought a small mat and shawl. The hotel shop sells us a nice comfy colourful

jacket for David and a green dress for Marg.

We catch the flight back, shower and change in time for a sumptuous farewell dinner

party in a flash restaurant high on the 12 th floor of a new hotel. There are views througha picture window across Ashgabat, the floodlit city. The party toasts Lavinia our hostess,guide philosopher and friend, using our two bottles of wine, one from Marks and Sparksin Charing Cross and one the Number 7 wine from our wine tasting experience inSamarkand.



We get back to our hotel at 11.30 and were asked to be ready to leave at 1am.After packing we get a short nap on our beds, hardly a night's sleep, before boarding the

coach to the airport; long delays standing exhausted and sleepy; at least three screeningsand finally on the flight home to Heathrow via Istanbul, a long haul indeed.

By 10 am in Heathrow it was all over. The party disperses. We get our hire car and drivestraight to Lynton in N Devon to rest, recreate and review two amazing and wonderfulweeks of adventure, travel and exploration of a new and fascinating culture and peoples.

the opie-allbrook silk road adventures

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