I can relax a little. I’ve made it into Uzbekistan, and with that comes a thirty-day visa, clean(er), cheap hostels, friendly people and less suspicion. I’ve been told I still need to be wary of the authorities as police can be pretty corrupt across all the ‘stans’, but for now I’m just ecstatic to be able to change down a gear. You know me by now – it’s taken me three years to get here (I don’t like to be rushed), so Turkmenistan was always going to be a thorn in my side. But I had a fascinating experience there, met a friend for life, and ticked one off the bucket list, so I can’t really complain.
Beautiful Bukhara and the tower of death
I’m in Bukhara, which is one of the oldest cities in the world, and a significantly important trade post on the famous silk road. The entire city centre is an open air museum and is listed as a UNESCO world heritage site. The Kaylan Minaret is perhaps its most famous landmark, built in 1127 for decoration, however apparently as late as the 1920’s it was also in service as a place of execution. Those unfortunate to be on the wrong side of the law were marched up its spiral staircase and cast down to the flagstones below, thus earning its nickname “the tower of death”. Indeed I’m convinced I spy bloodstains on the well trod stones. No stranger to claret, one Genghis Khan was so impressed with the structure that he ordered it spared when he sacked the city back in eleven/twelve dum-di-dum.
My first port of call though is to attempt to repair my specs, which if you remember I slept in and subsequently snapped back in Ashgabat. I’ve been wandering around with designer prescription glasses stuck together with sellotape, and the dog-chewed ends wrapped in duct-tape. I pick up some super glue at the local bazaar, but it doesn’t even stick your fingers together. It is with great regret therefore that I must consign them to the annuls of history and I chuck them in the bin. I believe them to be the nicest pair I’ve ever owned too. As ever its just another experience though, and one which I quite enjoy, as I basically discover that I’ve been getting ripped off for lenses and frames for my entire life.
Uzbekistan sight test. “That’s a ‘W’, that’s a backwards ‘E’…”
I’ve got a choice of paying twenty quid for brand new frames and lenses, or paying four quid to have my current lenses machine fitted to these bendy frame things. Either way a man on a galloping horse isn’t going to notice I’ve actually got new glasses. I opt to keep my current lenses – they’ve got something special in them for my shitty eyes – and I’ve got new frames all fitted in an hour. For four pounds. Sure they don’t say Tommy Hilfiger down the side, and maybe it’s because I’m getting old that I don’t give a rats ass, but when I look back on how much I’ve spent over the years in rip-off Britain…
At least I can get back to looking for Stu.
The bazaar. Not easy to photograph people
Traveling isn’t always about doing the tourist thing. I’d have been dead three years ago if I just crammed my days with sightseeing and then left for the next town. When you’ve been going a long time, it’s nice to feel like a local and attempt to merge with the way of life. Interacting with nationals, buying food at the market, learning the transport system, going to an opticians, getting a liver test, going to an STD clinic…it all helps with the experience, and is in my opinion, how to travel properly. I get a kick out of leaving the camera at home and strolling casually through unfamiliar streets as if I live there. Kicking about like you own the place is also good for fending off unwanted attention and aggressive taxi drivers.
Winter has arrived
Bukhara is beautiful but cold. I’m lucky to catch a bit of sun and a higher temperature, but for the most part it’s going to be dropping as we get further into December. As a result, I’m devastated I cannot visit the infamous shrinking Aral Sea region and the ships graveyard. That was another big one on the bucket list. When am I going to be here again? Gutted. But the weather to the north has turned bad, and drivers are just not risking the ice and snow. I’m advised to wait a few days, but there’s no guarantees, and with a round trip coming close to 200 bucks, I’m forced to keep south and leave for Samarkand. From here on across the roof of the world, the weather is against me.
Bukhara, Uzbek opticians and new glasses
I can relax a little. I’ve made it into Uzbekistan, and with that comes a thirty-day visa, clean(er), cheap hostels, friendly people and less suspicion. I’ve been told I still need to be wary of the authorities as police can be pretty corrupt across all the ‘stans’, but for now I’m just ecstatic to be able to change down a gear. You know me by now – it’s taken me three years to get here (I don’t like to be rushed), so Turkmenistan was always going to be a thorn in my side. But I had a fascinating experience there, met a friend for life, and ticked one off the bucket list, so I can’t really complain.
Beautiful Bukhara and the tower of death
I’m in Bukhara, which is one of the oldest cities in the world, and a significantly important trade post on the famous silk road. The entire city centre is an open air museum and is listed as a UNESCO world heritage site. The Kaylan Minaret is perhaps its most famous landmark, built in 1127 for decoration, however apparently as late as the 1920’s it was also in service as a place of execution. Those unfortunate to be on the wrong side of the law were marched up its spiral staircase and cast down to the flagstones below, thus earning its nickname “the tower of death”. Indeed I’m convinced I spy bloodstains on the well trod stones. No stranger to claret, one Genghis Khan was so impressed with the structure that he ordered it spared when he sacked the city back in eleven/twelve dum-di-dum.
My first port of call though is to attempt to repair my specs, which if you remember I slept in and subsequently snapped back in Ashgabat. I’ve been wandering around with designer prescription glasses stuck together with sellotape, and the dog-chewed ends wrapped in duct-tape. I pick up some super glue at the local bazaar, but it doesn’t even stick your fingers together. It is with great regret therefore that I must consign them to the annuls of history and I chuck them in the bin. I believe them to be the nicest pair I’ve ever owned too. As ever its just another experience though, and one which I quite enjoy, as I basically discover that I’ve been getting ripped off for lenses and frames for my entire life.
Uzbekistan sight test. “That’s a ‘W’, that’s a backwards ‘E’…”
I’ve got a choice of paying twenty quid for brand new frames and lenses, or paying four quid to have my current lenses machine fitted to these bendy frame things. Either way a man on a galloping horse isn’t going to notice I’ve actually got new glasses. I opt to keep my current lenses – they’ve got something special in them for my shitty eyes – and I’ve got new frames all fitted in an hour. For four pounds. Sure they don’t say Tommy Hilfiger down the side, and maybe it’s because I’m getting old that I don’t give a rats ass, but when I look back on how much I’ve spent over the years in rip-off Britain…
At least I can get back to looking for Stu.
The bazaar. Not easy to photograph people
Traveling isn’t always about doing the tourist thing. I’d have been dead three years ago if I just crammed my days with sightseeing and then left for the next town. When you’ve been going a long time, it’s nice to feel like a local and attempt to merge with the way of life. Interacting with nationals, buying food at the market, learning the transport system, going to an opticians, getting a liver test, going to an STD clinic…it all helps with the experience, and is in my opinion, how to travel properly. I get a kick out of leaving the camera at home and strolling casually through unfamiliar streets as if I live there. Kicking about like you own the place is also good for fending off unwanted attention and aggressive taxi drivers.
Winter has arrived
Bukhara is beautiful but cold. I’m lucky to catch a bit of sun and a higher temperature, but for the most part it’s going to be dropping as we get further into December. As a result, I’m devastated I cannot visit the infamous shrinking Aral Sea region and the ships graveyard. That was another big one on the bucket list. When am I going to be here again? Gutted. But the weather to the north has turned bad, and drivers are just not risking the ice and snow. I’m advised to wait a few days, but there’s no guarantees, and with a round trip coming close to 200 bucks, I’m forced to keep south and leave for Samarkand. From here on across the roof of the world, the weather is against me.