Time to slow down—not in terms of distance, but in the impressions to take in.
After traveling for so long, a kind of saturation had set in. An impressive building started to feel like just another impressive building, a stunning ceiling like just another ceiling. Even a welcoming smile or a friendly invitation could blur into the many we had already encountered. We had seen so many by now—and all too often, we had seen better. Between the cultural and architectural extremes of Iran and Turkmenistan, and the natural extremes of Tajikistan’s high mountains, Uzbekistan was a welcome “break”.
The two major cities we visited, Bukhara and Samarkand, were quite touristy, bringing with them a level of comfort: coffee shops and a variety of good food. Both cities were undeniably beautiful and rich in history. Bukhara even had a few buildings remaining from before 1400 AD, but most of their old architecture was built later. With their mostly painted decoration, even the opulently decorated buildings in Uzbekistan appeared almost modest compared to Iran, where the decoration was tiled and thus shinier.
Outside of these cities, however, there was not much to see or experience. We took more or less the most direct route from the Turkmen border through Bukhara and Samarkand to the Tajik border: a big road going mostly through the green belt of the semi-desert, past some rivers and canals (with water!), small shops all offering the same useless range of products, hotels, and friendly people. I felt at ease, as if we’d finally arrived. We were in Central Asia, after all, and almost in Tajikistan! And so we cycled—happy to be back in the saddle—mostly uninterrupted. The days passed comfortably and uneventfully until—almost a bit too suddenly—we were at the border with Tajikistan.
Anecdotes
Bukhara: We took one of those free walking tours that exist in most big cities around the world. I really like these tours to get an overview of the city, and the guides are usually very engaging and entertaining. This time, the tour was okay—interesting—but I was stunned at how rude our guide was. Friendly, but nevertheless rude. He didn’t welcome anyone and started off with a speech about how dirty Switzerland’s money is. When one guy arrived late, he just asked where he’d been, not even making space for him in the circle. Instead of the usual “ask me questions” encouragement that most guides offer, he proclaimed that this would be an educational tour where he speaks and we listen. He kept telling us that we’d only remember 1% of what he said, and then scolded us whenever we didn’t recall one of the many dates he mentioned.
Guide: Why didn’t you remember? I told you just a minute ago!
Thomas: Well, my 1% was already reached within the first 5 minutes.
Everyone chuckled. Somehow, this guide’s friendly rudeness was refreshing—at least he spoke his mind.
My 1%: Why is the mosque of 40 pillars called 40 pillars when it only has 20? Because when you look at it from behind the pond, the 20 pillars are reflected in the water, creating the illusion of 40.
Hotel corridors: I was only “reminded” about my hijab twice while I was in Iran (not counting all the signs). Both times, I winced, immediately reached for my head to check, and was slightly shocked by my own reaction and how “Iranianized” I had already become (I had read before about this automatic response that Iranian women develop). Both times, the men didn’t mean to criticize my hijab: one asked (via Google Translate) whether it was very difficult for me, as I was free where I came from, and the other man complimented me, saying how good it looked.
And still, every morning after leaving our hotel room in Turkmenistan and here in Uzbekistan, I have a split second where I wince and think, “Where is my headscarf?!” I hope this feeling fades soon…
The first picture was taken by a photographer from an Uzbek newspaper, who was baffled by our cycling journey and wanted a picture for the newspaper. No idea if we appeared in an Uzbek newspaper, but in any case, he made us pose for this wonderfully cheesy photograph.
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