By Kelly Raftery
Many times, when traveling in Russia, the places that you
like seem to make a statement about who you are. The immediate example that comes to mind is
that my preference for European St. Petersburg, over quintessentially Russian
Moscow was always interpreted as an inability on my part to truly appreciate
the Russian soul.
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The Registan, Samarkand. Photo by Dmitriy Pitirimov, via Wikimedia Commons |
When it came to Central Asia, Uzbeks never understood my preference for drab
(and somewhat too Persian for their
tastes) Bukhara over that Silk Road showpiece, Samarkand. Samarkand’s main square, The Registan, was
lovingly restored to its former glory during the Soviet era and is truly a
breath-taking architectural ensemble. Standing at these ancient crossroads, one cannot help but feel
completely awed and dwarfed by the ancient madrasahs (traditional Islamic
center of learning) that flank the square, each covered in intricate blue and
green mosaic tile designs. But, to be
quite honest, I always felt like Samarkand, as beautiful as it was, resembled a
Hollywood movie set of New York City–a bit too clean and sanitized to be the
real thing.
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Bukhara's Covered Bazaar, Photo by Anatoly Terentiev,via Wikimedia Commons
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As a history junkie and a writer, I like a bit more grit
and realism in my surroundings. I want
to be able to see the ghosts who once lived, loved and died there. In Central Asia, Bukhara is that sort of
place for me. Bukhara is old. It is believed that Bukhara sits on a sacred
hill used by pre-Christian fire worshippers for springtime sacrificial
rites. The city itself was well
established by 400-500 A.D. Unlike
Samarkand, all seemingly shiny and new, Bukhara wears its age. People live and work still in these ancient
places, as they have for millennia. I
have happily lost myself in the streets near the old covered bazaar countless
times. On one trip, I started my
wanderings late in the day, the sinking sun throwing long shadows across my
path, causing me to spend more time than usual watching my footing. I emerged from the narrow streets of the bazaar
into the growing dark, where a man led a solitary camel across my path. At that moment the air around me became alive
with the imaginary spirits of Silk Road traders.
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Lyab-i Hauz, Photo by F. Eveleens from Wikimedia Commons | |
My favorite restaurant abroad is an open air café, which
I love more for the history than the food.
Bukhara, until Soviet times, was a city of ponds and giant storks. One of Bukhara’s main squares is called
Lyab-i Hauz, or “by the pond” in Persian. Lyab-i Hauz’s core is the large
square pond at its center, ringed with gnarled and ancient trees and a stone
staircase which descends into the water.
This pond is one of the few remaining in modern Bukhara, the rest having
been filled in by the Soviets for public health reasons. Not far from the pond is an outdoor café with
traditional raised seating. In Central
Asia, this means large platforms, not unlike sizable day beds, lined with
cushions and pillows, with a low table set in the middle. Friends lounge comfortably or sit with legs
tucked beneath the table, tailor style.
The food at the café that bears the same name as the square is simple
and Uzbek, the quality varies depending on what was available at the market that
day. Salads of all kinds, plov, (Uzbekistan’s national pilaf of
lamb, onion, carrots and rice) and shashlyk
(kebabs) form the base of the menu and a basket of naan, or flatbread always accompanies the meal.
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A Phoenix in Flight. Photo by Alaexis, via Wikimedia Commons |
If you are there on a hot afternoon, children’s laughter
is punctuated by an occasional loud splash and shouts of joy indicating a
particularly spectacular jump from a tree into the nearby pond. You take your time in Uzbekistan,
particularly on those hot days, so sit a while, have another piala of green tea and watch the kids
play as your food takes its time arriving at the table. Close your eyes and take in the scents of
grilling meat skewers, pungent hot pepper infused vinegar and freshly baked
bread.
Open your
eyes and look around the square. On the
north side of the pond is the Kukeldah Madrasah, the largest madrasah in the
city. Opposite each other are two
spectacularly decorated structures, built by Nadir Divan-Beghi, a khanaka, or lodging house for wandering
Sufis, and a madrasah. The madrasah
bears beautiful mosaics of Phoenixes in flight.
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Nasruddin Hodja. Photo by By Faqscl via Wikimedia Commons |
Once you
have finished your meal, get up and wander the square a bit, visit the small
statue of Nasruddin Hodja, the warm-hearted trickster of the Islamic world, who
is immortalized here riding a donkey, one hand over his heart. Wander a bit further and find artists and
craftsman selling their wares. Look
around at the rooftops and trees and see if you can spot any of the few
remaining giant stork nests, or if you are truly lucky, a stork. Then, in time, return to a nearby guesthouse
where you can lay your head and dream of days gone by along the Silk Road.
A wonderful series of photos of Bukhara can be found here.
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