Sasha & Son
Travel Blogs from Bukhara
Boukhara
... voisin. Peu à peu nous pénétrons en zone habitée, et longeons des villages, aux maisons basses, avec des ouvertures très limitées sur la rue. Des marchés, ouverts sur la route nationale, apportent une animation colorée. Les cultures couvrent désormais la majorité des champs : coton en cours de récolte, terres récemment labourées, vergers (pommiers surtout), maïs, raisins de ...
Back again...
... to place me with appropriate travelling companions. Obviously the cabin with 5 blokes was not appropriate so they shuffled things around until I ended up in a cabin with an older gentleman and his wife. Turns out it was the Uzbek boxing coach just back from London after a very successful campaign bearing several medals.
The train arrived on time, I exited, found the messengers who had delivered the book to the station and had 45 minutes ...
Police hats and pink truncheons.....
... we have had a relaxing few days and even bumped into our Australian friends who after sitting in the desert for a week caught a bus to Bukhara and arrived on the same day as us. Our first visit to a local bazaar gave us an experience of the real Uzbekistan with traders selling everything from spices to tracksuits and local women in brightly coloured traditional dress haggling for the best prices, a skill I must improve before reaching India in just under two months.
...
My driver has the DTs and i am covered in flies
... at this point because its early and fresh).
After five minutes after a series of erratic turns, it becomes clear that we are not on the road to Bukhara.. instead we are clearly heading into the back streets of Urgench. All the while he is taking calls in his cell phone, and shouting angrily at whoever is on the other side. As we pull up outside of a stand of dodgy looking uzbek men, hanging out and drinking tea, my heart starts to sink. ...
Getting under the skin of Bukhara
... set off towards them down a narrow lane, but they were only illuminating a domestic garage. A young girl and two older men were outside, looking puzzled at our presence on their little residential street after dark.
We began chatting to them in a mix of English, Uzbek and Russian, trying to ask for good, cheap food nearby and generally making conversation. Expecting us to be the kind of tourists who usually visit Bukhara – on comfortable package holidays – ...
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