Temur Lane's Birthplace

With its conspicuous tidiness and its silent, unoccupied hotels lining the cobblestone roads, Shahrisabz Park (Complex? Square?) feels eerily nice but antiseptic. After a successful day of seeing the bits and pieces of Samarkand, our next stop was to drive over the mountains to a town called Shahrisabz, the birthplace and summer palace of Temur Lane (aka Temur the Great, Temur the Lame, etc.) 

Somehow we managed to find parking and walked between tall walls adorned with turrets, like we were about to be transported into a Renaissance Fair chock full of wenches, jesters, and knights. Instead, we were flanked by wedding parties, Mike Tyson's Punch-Out Arcade game players, and battery-powered extended-cab golf carts to shuttle people from one of the park to the other. 

It seemed like a lot of people, but because the space was so huge we had endless social distancing as we walked past the remains of the 65 meter towers- which we could see while still descending the mountain road leading into town. Beyond the towers was Temur himself, extra imposing on his pedestal. He watched over the brides standing in their hoop-skirt dresses and their tuxedo-tailed men posing for their wedding album. On the day, the kids counted 20 newlyweds. 

We walked past trees carefully planted in straight lines, fake boulders, and immaculate gazebos guiding us to the turquoise domed mosques on the other side. The biggest thrill was watching local kids play on the walls outside of one. They spoke no Russian, we spoke no Uzbek, but we managed to learn a few names while they chased each other, totally ignorant of the fact I was afraid they'd miss a ledge and crack their skulls open.  

Two long rows of hotels/hostels waited for guests on either side of the complex and there were many shuttered restaurants. Only a few convenience stores were open in this utopic flatland where I hangrily bought oranges, chips, and smoothies .  Thankfully there were two bathrooms (out of six) in service. I paid 1,000 som (10 cents) to use a real toilet and another 1,000 to use a Turkish one later on. No soap, no tp, no problem. 

On the way out of town, we passed a few stores of interest: wedding dress rentals, sporting goods, and chandeliers. It's just not an Uzbek city if these aren't in abundance.

Aspirational Plans to see the Samarkand Sites

The Registan of Samarkand was once the public square where citizens gathered to hear officials make announcements and sometimes conduct executions. It is surrounded by three madrasas that were THE place to study not just Islam, but also poetry, astronomy, science, art, and philosophy from the world's great teachers back in the day. Though the schools have long since closed, the tiny doors inside each madrasa house souvenir shops and old women who sweep the stone floors clean. The madrasas are spectacularly tall, old, and exquisitely tiled and Mark was giddy as he wandered the empty squares, taking photos from every angle he could manage. He posted far superior photos than mine on his Schlink Shots blog: https://schlinkshots.photo.blog/2020/11/29/samarkand-and-around-thanksgiving-2020-393917-6n-665832-3e-ish/

There's more to Samarkand than the gorgeous Registan. We visited the somber Guri-Emir Mausoleum which seems to breathe life despite being a sacred burial spot. The tomb of Saint Daniel is an unusually long extra tomb, built to accommodate his magic leg that grows a bit longer every year. We visited President Karimov's tomb and his passed family members, the Ulugbek Observatory, and the ancient site of Afrasiyab - the original Samarkand that flourished before the Mongol Empire. Unfortunately the museum we tried to visit was closed but we did get to meet the Museum Director who showed us a short video that told the story of three painted partially preserved murals that were discovered on walls thousands of years ago. 

Seeing it all in one day isn't an unreasonable ask, but it was only accomplished because we had two amenable kids who enjoy (or at least tolerate) our love of walking. I'd guess that normal people do it in two days. 25,000 steps and 8 hours later, we returned to the b&b too exhausted for dinner settling on wine, canned pineapple, smoked cheese, and cup-o-ramen, and a few episodes of Brooklyn 99 to polish off the day.

Passing through the bazaar

Uzbekistan is nut country

View from Ulugbek Observatory

Sher-Dor Madrasa on the Registan

Courtyard of Ulugbek Madrasa

Nightly 6pm light show

Steps of Guri-Emir Mausoleum

Women must cover their heads before entering

Guri-Emir Mausoleum and adjacent cemetery

Guri-Emir Mausoleum

Getting to know the Uzbek roads

Panoramic view of Zarafshan Mountains on the way to Shahrisabz.
Credit: Mark

With over 2.3 million people living in the capital, I shouldn't ever be surprised about hitting traffic, but I am. Only I don't just "hit" traffic, because the jam packed streets are always that way. Instead, I am forced to jump in like a round of Double Dutch when I see my entrance.  We navigate often incorrect maps of cooked and uncooked spaghetti noodles and get honked at for obeying traffic lights - even though there are cameras everywhere. Expensive tickets are regularly issued for speeding and running red lights, but that seems to stop no one. Often a turn lane becomes 5 or 6 lanes. If there's space, they will fill it. But I don't mind so much because Uzbek drivers, though they drive aggressively, are not threatening like drivers in America. I'm not afraid someone is tailgating me because they are angry and seeing red. They are tailgating because that is how it's done.  

All the same, I was relieved to be on the open road when we drove to Samarkand, the country's second biggest city. It's located about 4.5 hours south on the M39, a highway which eventually becomes a left hand-turn near the border of Afghanistan. We drove past huge expanses of hazy, winterized farm land where remnants of harvested cotton blew in the wind and fruit trees stood naked. The road side vendors had seasonal produce like gourds, apples, pomegranates, and potatoes, but also some suspiciously non-seasonal, like watermelon and grapes. Others sold jugs of red gel fuel, salted carp, honey, and huge jars of kurt - dried and salted cheese gum-ball sized spheres (size varies).  They keep well in the heat and pack well. One could argue they are an ideal road-trip food - indeed kurt was a staple for anyone traveling along the Silk Road back in the day.

Since this was our first time making a trip with our 20 year old car, we weren't exactly sure how far a tank of gas would get us. Along the way we passed a gas station that had 30-40 cars waiting their turn. Then we passed many more stations packed to the point that cars were lining up along the highway (off-ramps are not exactly a thing, but more of a split from the road). Was there a gas shortage? Should we be worried? We didn't really have a backup plan nor any idea where the next station would show up along the way. 

It turns out that many cars use methane gas around here. Big red tanks are installed in the trunks of the cars and they get filled like one fills a propane tank. According to the manager of the vacant b&b we stayed at, explained that the reason for the long lines was because big cities like Tashkent and Samarkand utilize huge quantities of methane for heating and fueling, thus reducing the pressure power of the pipelines outside of the city. Less pressure means it takes a lot longer to fill tanks.

We made it to Samarkand without issue, but realized quickly we'd need to plan for a benzine gas stop somewhere in the city. This proved to be surprisingly hard even after receiving directions to the nearest station.  A lot of them were either closed or out of business, and Google maps didn't do its magical job. It tried, but often led us to dead ends or roads that didn't exist at all.

Once we found gas, we were able to drive to a town called Shahrisabz, the birth place of Temur Lane located on the other side of the Zarafshan Range. Though the mountains are only about 6,000 feet in elevation, several feet of snow had already blanketed the houses and land while Fog and ice dominated the potholed road. We took advantage of 4WD but many brave tiny sedans blew past us on the hairpin turns. Getting on top of the fog meant fabulous blue skies, fresh air and views of sprawling mountains. I couldn't figure why I was in such a good mood.

I think any decent travel guide and blog should always mention that mountains nearly surround Tashkent and Samarkand. Granted, both cities are so smoggy that it is difficult to see them on a regular day, but we had no idea that we'd see them. It was a nice surprise and even better to be in them.

Zarafshan Mountains outside of Samarkand

Making our way to Shahrisabz

 Methane Gas Station

Sleepy cotton fields

Alleyway to our B&B in Samarkand

Pomegranates will brighten anything in this haze

 

Snow pants in the City

Timur Lane looked like he got pelted in the face with a snowball while riding upon his well endowed horse. I laughed out loud at the thought, but I clamped my mouth shut knowing his ghost could very well come back for a hearty round of torture. Timur the Lame had a bum hip and was missing a few fingers, but make no mistake: this 14th century conqueror was anything but lame. He was scary-smart, scary-brave, and scary-scary, decimating towns and villages all over South Central Asia.

The real reason I dragged the family out into 20 degree weather was to see 17 floors of Soviet style lodging: Hotel Uzbekistan. So very retro and aloof. 

We also walked along the city's canal to Memorial Square where the names of soldiers from the WWII are engraved on hundreds of pages of books. Paths within the site were wept clean of snow, but beyond that the granite steps were prime opportunities for broken wrists, elbows, or tailbones. Thank goodness for extra padding. 

Amir Temur Square

Credit: Mark

Credit: Mark

Turkiston Concert Hall in the distance.

Peaceful vision against the noise of traffic. 

The city never sleeps. Credit: Mark

 

Tashkent Botanic Gardens Walk

For about seventy cents a person, you can get fresh air in Tashkent's Botanic Gardens. The difference of clarity is astonishing and as winter approaches and the heaters turn on, dust and pollution constantly hang in the air. Inside the garden, you are buffered from the smog and city noise by a variety tall trees and thick plant overgrowth. Most plants are unlabeled, or were once labeled but have since faded. It's so fresh here, even the public drop toilets don't stink. We paid an additional fifty cents each to step inside the green house, well heated by radiators, but our favorite part of the garden was the side that backs to the city zoo. I can't identify trees very well, but of the caged birds beyond the fence, I could. Loud birds chirping and squawking made the whole experience feel a bit more wild and remote. 

Tibetan Cherry Tree

untouched photo

 

Amirsoy Ski Resort Is Real Hiking

After last weekend's unwanted political pig wrestling match, it was time to venture out of the city without a guide. Our safest bet was to check out Uzbekistan's newest ski resort: Amirsoy. It was such a hotly anticipated opening, the resort was ready before the road to get there was last year. Hairpins and 12% grades made for an impressive drive to the base where we were guided into the dusty lot in an orderly fashion, but the parking of vehicles was more like a monster truck rally event.

We paid about five dollars a person to ride up to 7,500 feet in their spacious gondola to enjoy a panoramic view from the Maygashkan Mountain. Folks in bedazzled heels, hijabs, track suits, or Jack Wolfskin gear gathered in their respective groups to drink, picnic, take selfies, and hike around the rocky summit. As usual Mark and Deets wore shorts, thus pegging us for Americans and a few folks enthusiastically inquired about the election and getting green card issues solved. Skidding down the rocky Alfa Run to the eastern saddle of the mountain, we enjoyed a short 3-mile hike to a neighboring peak reserved for future development before riding back down. But, is it even a hike if you take the chair lift? Mark says: no way. I say: do whatever it takes to be able to hike alone, and I am okay if it's considered cheating.

Come winter time, Amirsoy should have ten runs, two lifts, five magic carpets, plus a tubing hill. A daily pass costs between $15-24 USD (weekday/weekend) and a season pass is about $400. There are chalets available to rent and the restaurant has fabulous shashlik (meat kebabs) so I can see us returning for much needed mental health breaks and fresh air sooner than later.

We completed the day trip with a loop around another ski resort outside of Chimgan, where there are 6 very vintage lifts and you pay by the ride. I understand the resort is also popular for winter horseback riding and snowmobiling. How that works among the throngs of plastic boot walkers hauling equipment on ice and snow, it must be fascinating. Whatever. Sign me up.

A good chunk of Chimgan village has tightly fit vacation homes called dachas, a wildly popular sanitarium, and countless road side stands selling brilliantly colored plums, pears, apples, and nuts. Oh, and honey with many hues of brown and gold and yellow. Uzbekistan has very active beekeeping associations in all the regions of the country, and with good reason.  Honey is an important product here. According to a 2016 publication about honey in traditional cuisine of Uzbekistan, there are 134 different types of flowers that bees rely on in one region alone. There is a high consumption everywhere and the beekeepers pride themselves on meeting and exceeding international quality standards. They weren't wrong. We all got sugar highs on empty stomachs for the 90-minute drive home.

Dangerous edge! Don't come closer than 2 meters. 

Ironically, the print was so small I had to get super close. 

The edge indeed spills over immediately. 

Gondola summit to the left.

Exploring beyond.

Credit: Mark

Charvak Reservoir

Masked (yay!) vendor who told us all about his extended family living in New York. 

Halloween Hike: Tian Shen-ish Mountains

Even though we like Tashkent so far, it is still a big city, and with big cities there are big headaches: noise, trash, pollution, traffic, harried life. If you squint on a good day against the haze, you can see the western end of the Chaktal Range of the Tian Shan Mountains from the city, and we were aching to go hike them. Getting there wasn't easy though - because there are no hiking guides and no maps (that I have found). Roads are often blocked off for secret military reasons, so you are forced to detour. Forget about consistent GPS and cell phone coverage. Then, if you get to where you want to go, trailheads are not marked and the word "trail" itself is relative, leaving hikers to make it up as they go.

We hired a local guide who kinda knew where to go. She shared some interesting details about the dynamic landscape and boasted about meeting Paul McCartney once. Unfortunately, she also had a lot to say about politics and current events, nothing of which I cared to discuss on my family hiking trip. And her singing was terrible. There had to be a silver lining somewhere. By not having a proper trail - I could socially distance as much as I wanted. 

At this time of year, the mountain's plants are brown and brittle but the spines were as sharp as ever. Only the juniper trees were green and thriving. They made excellent hand holds when we were sliding down or scrambling up. We ate tiny fruit off a tree, which looked like yellow cherries with a pit and tasted like apple-mango. We watched eagles, sparrows, and vultures glide overhead against a panoramic view of snow dusted mountains that spread into Kazakhstan. My children summited the extinct volcano like champs, and the charm of the vastness was enough to put me in a cautiously good mood for the rest of the day. 

donkey: осел (pronounced osel)

Vendors on the R12 highway at dusk.