Train to Bukhara

Oct. 17, 2023- Train to Bukhara Hallelujah! AOL lives. Shame on us. How can the USA be outdone by Uzbekistan? This morning we went to a stunning train station from the Soviet era and rode a bullet train at 150 mph. It can go 200 mph, but why push it. We were “farewelled” by a cacophonous band playing local instruments as we readied ourselves to jump onto the train in the 6 minutes allotted for boarding. There was snack and beverage service, clean western style toilets, and a very helpful ethnic Russian woman sitting across from us. When my cappuccino arrived, it was in a paper cup, full to the brim, and hot. She whipped out a plastic cup holder with a handle and bailed me out. She also reached into David’s wallet as he fumbled with millions of “som” in currency and literally bailed him out with the cashier. David bought a cup of fresh fruit mid-trip only to discover that the price went down the closer we were to our destination. The entire ride was 1 1/2 hours versus 6 hours by car. Need I say the scenery was beige and got more so the farther we were from Samarkand. Yura told us we were now in the desert. Where the hell had we been before? Bukhara is Yura’s hometown so he’ll be glad to see his family and get his laundry done. It is also the hub of the old trade routes and oasis. Unfortunately, the underground water is heavily saline and had to be filtered. It also harbored guinea worms. Yes, the same worms President Carter has worked so hard to eliminate in Africa. It was in 1932, when Bukharans tackled the problem in a systematic and scientific way. They drained all the ponds, lakes and canals and set up a water purification plant. It wasn’t until 1977, when they refilled the waterways. The ponds are still drained monthly, cleaned, and checked for worms. So far so good. For sure we’re sticking with bottled water. Our hotel, the Amelia, is a boutique hotel of only 11 rooms. Charming. It’s in the heart of the old town and walkable to anything we’ll need. We took an orientation tour with Yura after lunch. There is a central park and pond surrounded by mulberry trees. It is lovely, except for memories of guinea worms of old. He introduced us to three of the several “trading domes” dating from the time when there were 72 caravansari in Bukhara. Each dome (actually a bazaar) had a specialty. Surprisingly, the one for moneychangers was run by Indians, not Jews. Jews in this region were known for dying fabric and leather. The town is still a trading post, only this time it sells to tourists. It’s one big gift shop. The madrassahs are gift shops. The caravansari are gift shops or hotels. Ancient mosques have been converted as well. So far, I’m not enchanted. As we rambled around the pedestrianized zone, we were stopped by several women from a town 700 miles away. They only wanted to take photos with us and smile to show off their gold teeth. Gold is a sign that you can afford better than steel. One woman bragged that she had the best teeth of all. She was born with them. Dinner was at an 18th century house catering to tourists. It wasn’t as lovely as it sounded, but the dancing girl made up for it. She whirled and twirled in time to two local musicians beating on a drum and strumming a 9 stringed instrument. Yura knew she was married because she only had two braids and no unibrow. Unmarried women have multiple braids and don’t pluck or shave until a week before their wedding. Uzbekistan must be the home of the u-turn. When crossing the street, we have to swivel our heads as cars, trucks, and buses swing wide and play “chicken” as they capriciously change direction. Toby Tomorrow, we walk to the Jewish section and see the synagogue then look at functioning mosques and madrassahs.