Another Stan in the Books

You don't know fun unless you've driven for two days in the Karakalpakstan landscape of desert, low mountains, and oil towns in a marshrutka stuffed with six adults, four kids, and no snacks while on a mission to see the famous and ancient Khorezm Fortresses. A really fun part comes with the ominous promises of boredom and barfing, but the most fun is telling the kids there's still one more fort to see after the 4th. Or fifth. Or sixth. 

Karakalpakstan is an autonomous republic in eastern Uzbekistan. The region is vast and stark, intimidating and stunning. It has about 50 forts that were built well before Ghengis Khan showed up. They've long since pillaged but after the Soviets came, the forts remain unmanned and rarely maintained. Visitors can climb and freely explore the petrified architecture, which is a combination of clay, grass, and wood embedded within the layers.

Thousand-year-old pottery pieces are easily spotted on the ground throughout too, though all the fancier pieces have been taken. Our guide was an archeologist who had participated in a few fort excavations years before and just by looking at the curve of the piece, he could identify what it had been used for: there were pots for holding food, water, or beer. Other pieces hung off a saddle or were used as baking slabs, pestel and mortar. Standing on top of a wall and looking beyond the horizon, he helped us visualize the path the ancestors took throughout the centuries- always following the water. At least until the Soviets came and forced the water to follow their path, he said.

Our venture in the stark yonder included a yurt camp stay, perched on top of a plateau. After a gut stuffing dinner and steep temperature drop, we had no choice but to hide from the cold and get some sleep. Each yurt was equipped with daisy chained bed warmers and split packs for the summer. Ignoring the charr on the extension cords, I plugged us all in, layered up, and huddled under thick blankets. 

David spent the morning feeding their "pet" camel stalks of a dead, reedy plant that was seen all over the land. Shortly after, a thick, weathered woman brought out scraps for its breakfast. She deftly picked up a stick, whacked the camel and dumped the food before the camel could retaliate. I spent the morning inadvertently walking on semi-buried goat carcasses and trash. The blessing of garbage trucks simply isn't a thing out here.

Shivering, we piled back into the marshrutka for another full day of driving. First up: the Bo'ston History Museum where we saw a chain mail shirts, an ancient butter churn, and giant, paper rubles among other Karakalpak treasures. The manager eagerly followed us around presumably Snapchatting our experience as guests at their museum. 

We saw a couple more forts before begging the guide to stop by a mini-mart for snacks, any snacks - as hanger was getting pretty serious in the car. (Note to self: pack snacks in the luggage next time. Oh god. Is there going to be a next time?!) We ended up at dubious truck stop that had no running water to eat lagman and Uzbekistan's famous yellow torpedo melon. To hell with sanitation! We were hungry.

There was one more locale to visit before getting to Nukus for our final night: the Tower of Silence.  Zoroastrians built this huge circular plateau around 9th century CE to place their dead and allow for sky burials. Located somewhat off the highway, had I not known it was a historical site, I would have simply mistaken it for a butte, as if I was driving through Castle Rock, Colorado. At the top of the ascent, we could see Turkmenistan to the south, covered in autumn gold. It was a beautiful panoramic respite, but I could't help feeling disappointed that no mystics or spirits stopped by while we were there. 

Irascible from the long and dusty day, the now extra-small feeling van puttered into Nukus where we had booked separate hotel rooms for the kids. We eyed the children, said we'd see them at dinner, and bolted to hot showers and crisp sheets.

Fort #1

Fort #3

Fort #5

Fort #6

Ayaz-Kala Yurt Camp

yurt ala IKEA

Schlink yurt

bigger on the inside

Strikingly similar vastness to Namibia's