Bukhara
We arrived at the edge of the old town. In the midday heat it was deserted. I felt like crap and decided I needed food. This being Uzbekistan, that meant shashlyk, nan and tea. After lunch, the older Japanese woman and I set out to find accommodations. We ditched the younger Japanese because she was sick of them. Apparently Japanese backpackers are always fiending for ways to save money – sneaking into attractions, always staying at the absolute cheapest place, etc. Saving money is a form of prestige for them – experiencing the country way down on the list.
We quickly became lost in the maze of the old town. Narrow adobe lanes twist and contort themselves into a complex knot near the Labi Hauz, the pool that forms the center of Bukharan life. Most of the guesthouses are here. One kid was pretty desperate for us to stay with him, but after a while he became overbearing and a little bit petulant. His family had a small, dark, air-conditioned room for $6. I liked the price but couldn’t deal with having that kid around. He would probably have hassled me non-stop.
We ended up at a traditional courtyard B&B and worked hard to negotiate $15 each for two beautiful doubles. It was a bit pricey and require a commitment of four nights. I was sick as a dog by this point so I was fine with that. I spent most of the first two days there in bed, or lying on the couch watching the Olympics. I needed the luxury.
When I recovered, I spent some quality time exploring Bukhara. I was still in pretty rough shape. My throat was torn to pieces – I could barely talk. I soothed it with soft serve ice cream at ten cents a cone, about once every hour. The Labi Hauz area is where tourists hang out (around main pool populated with cats, dogs and a couple of swans), and a few well-to-do locals. All of the restaurants there are overpriced. The waiters literally make up the prices at the time of the bill. I bought the same thing two different times and was charged different prices. So I went out past the Ark, through a park and found a chaykana that was more to my taste. The locals here welcomed me with open arms, charged me fair prices, and I didn’t have to suffer the cruel indignity of hanging out in Bukhara and listening to Britney Spears and Fifty Cent (which they play non-stop at Labi Hauz).
The city itself is marvelous – a living monument to the golden age of Timurid culture. Mosques, medressas and minarets are everywhere. The old town is not huge, but is easy to get lost in. I was invited in for dinner at the local synagogue. There aren’t many Jews left in Bukhara (most have fled to Israel) but those that are there enjoy the solitude of the old town. The city drips with atmosphere. At low season, it is possible to go out in the early morning and have the entire place to yourself. Though my hazy brain makes it tough for me to make specific descriptions, I can assure you that if you only go to one place in Central Asia, Bukhara needs to be it.
Tags: Bukhara, Travel, Uzbekistan
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