Lost (and found) on the Silk Road

(It's been a long 7 days and A LOT has happened since then! Posts get written  and  photos get edited but by the time I get internet everything has moved on again.  I am catching up as fast as I can but bear with me - my heart and soul are having a bumpy ride...)

Travel writing – or writing in general – comes in waves.  Sometimes they crash forth with a fury.  Sometimes it is a gentle roll.  Sometimes it is a perpetual state of nothingness.  Doldrums.  A place where so much and so little collide and extinguish each other.  The momentum of words morphs with the trip and – or lack thereof.

Not to say that nothing has happened.  So much has happened – is happening.  But we are struggling with the happening.  The nature of the Silk Road is one of adversity punctuated with moments of ecstasy.   It is in every sense of the word a journey and it is one we are increasingly finding we are doing alone. 

Aloneness…  we hadn’t prepared ourselves for that.  I’ve been reading “The Great Game” and the irony is that aloneness is exactly what made it “great.”  All the players had to go it alone.  All had to morph into someone else to blend with the caravans.  All felt moments of despair.  All were pushed beyond what they could endure.  And yet… they all found pockets of joy in places they never imagined existed.

My joy was Bukhara.  From the moment I stepped out of the truck and into the ancient alleyways I knew I had found myself again.  I could get lost.  I could get found.  I could for 3 glorious days be me.  I was free.

It began with a search for coffee (no surprise!).  Winding passages through the Jewish Quarter past the marionette shop and into magic – a garden, a pool and a tiny shop that made lattes and Italian espresso.  Sunset caressing blue tile and causing it to blush.  We sat and let it all wash over us.  Everyone who has come to Bukhara since the dawn of time falls under her spell.  We were beyond smitten.

Aloneness… just when you are deep in the well there is a lifeline.  A couple beside us speaks Cantonese and Ken says hello.  Smiles.  Laughter.  Embrace.  Travellers also on a journey who welcome a familiar face.  We had not met them before but we are life long friends.  Such is the nature of the Silk Road.  

I miss dancing.  I miss the freedom to move with the tides of my being.  I had not realized how much I missed it until I meet the puppet maker.  He wraps cloth and paper around his hand and makes a gypsy come to life.  She dances and he obliges her.  I ask Ken “Who do you think we are in this Game?  Puppets or Puppeteers?”  He says, “Let’s cut the strings and find out.”

Dinners. Always the same place by the pool.  I have a soul mate there.  She is grey and mysterious.  She tells me, “I choose you to love while you are here.”  I hold her and she smiles.  I stroke her hair while she sleeps in my arms.  For 3 days we have an ecstatic love affair.  I want to take her home with me and for a moment, Ken and I consider which is the better investment: a silk carpet or a feline filled with unconditional love.  Neither of any practicality but one very much dear to our hearts. 

The final night.  A final dance through the maze of alleyways and a chance to lose ourselves before we can’t again.  The Drago People have arrived – kindred Silk Roaders whom we encounter time to time.  Embrace. Embrace.  Embrace.  Laughter.  Sharing.  Smiles. We relish in the belonging knowing all too soon the longing will set in.  Bukhara whispers in my ear, “Many have lost their heads here.”  I whisper back, “I will give you my heart instead.”  Moonlight witnesses the deal and approves.  Such is the nature of the Silk Road.

* * * * *

The firs time I saw Khiva she was in my dreams

Resplendent in her glory

Foreign Hawks eating from her hands

She was mistress of international intrigue

Tended to by 300 hundred slaves

Coveted by all

But her heart belonged to the Khan.

The next time I saw Khiva was though my window

Dressed in blue and gold

And all manner of new accouterments

She catered to the whims of foreign throngs

Who drank cheap schnapps under her mantel

And ate bad pizza from her bosom

Her heart long since broken.

The last time I saw Khiva was at sunrise

Before the streets were plied by her trade

 “I never use to dress like this”

“But it’s what the customers want”

She shows me the place of poets and philosophers who wrestle

With who they really are

And what they are expected to be.

The next time I see Khiva

It will be in my dreams

For I will always dream of Khiva

And now she dreams of me.

The Ark - Bukhara

Medressa in Bukhara

This latte moment with a prism in my eye brought to you by Bukhara

Fields of Flowers in Bukhara

Lazy afternoons at the gates of Bukhara

Love in Bukhara

Bukhara Boys on the Side

Drago Friends

Forging Along in Bukhara

When you're smiling your whole soul smiles with you

Rough Trade in Bukhara

Nothing says Silk Road like an Iced Latte!

New found Friends

A moment in the sun at the Medressa 

Ken embraces his inner Reggie Love in Khiva

Baby Bling in Khiva

Wedding Day in Khiva

This lonely plant moment brought to you by Bukhara

Dinner at mama's house in Bukhara

"Look mom we've been over this.  David and I are a couple and it's not about me finding the right girl!"

The Mosque in Bukhara

Pillars of ancient strength in Khiva

The face of Khiva

My Khiva

The Puppet Master who made my dance

Spice Khan of Bukhara

The Unfinished Minaret - Khiva

There is no Such thing as Too Much Blue Tile!

Here I am.  Another café at another Silk Road oasis.  Not here for the coffee as it is shit instant but there is Wi-Fi and that gives me a chance to touch base before we cross another border into Turkmenistan.  I am brooding today because tomorrow means the end of civilization and back into silk roading proper.  No yurts (sadly).  Just musty tents and l-o-n-g drives into nowhere.  I am coming to realize that travelling the silk road means lots of days of extremely monotonous truck drives punctuated by the occasional respite in a place with running water (and the occasional latte).   I know there are worse things to complain about.  I am here.  I am alive.  I don’t have to worry about bandits or lice (yet…) But God Dam it!!  I WANT AIR CONDITIONING AND COFFEE!!!

Uzbekistan has been eye opening.  It is here that one really gets the feel you are on the Silk Road.  Lots of blue tile and Arabic influence.  And lots of cotton fields.  Cotton is a contentious issue here.  It is the reason the Aral Sea is pretty much destroyed (having all its tributaries diverted for this crop) and has resulted in universal “conscripted” labor of everyone to pick it each fall.  Conscripted is a polite way of describing it.  It is, in fact, slave labor.  The county is too poor to pick cotton using machine and too set in its ways to stop producing it.  Farmers don’t want to grow it but the state mandates that they do.  We have no idea where the cotton actually goes as in no Western Country buys it due to the human and environmental concerns and we can’t ask our guide about it since questions like that could have him “disappear”…

A few other fun Uzbekistan facts:  The president is pretty “out there.”  He is the country’s only president – having won every election by 95% or more since he came to power in the 90’s (read into that what you want).  He likes cotton and boiling dissidents alive.  He had his own daughter arrested and she is on a hunger strike.  It’s not looking optimistic as far as fatherly concern goes.  Despite the totalitarian government everyone is extremely friendly, kind and there is no tourist hassle whatsoever. The currency however, is insane.  The highest denomination is 1000 Som, which is the equivalent of 30 cents CDN.  Your average meal out will cost you 15,000 Som (or around $5).  No one carries a wallet.  Everyone carries a “bag.”  Buying a coke here is like buying coke – you hand over a brick of cash. 

Our first Silk Road stop here is Samarkand – the Atlantis of Central Asia.  It is the oldest settlement on the Silk Road and was the favorite of Alexander the Great who said “Everything I heard about Marakanda (Samarkand) is trues; except it is more beautiful that I ever imagined.”   The Registan is awe inspiring in both grandeur and size.  I am partial to Ulugbeg’s Observatory built in the early 14^th century.  He had astronomy figured out before Galileo was even conceived – AND he supported women getting equal education. 

I would love to write more about Samarkand but we only managed a half-day of site seeing before we were consumed with heat (Ken came back to the room at 2 pm for a “rest” and passed out until 9 pm!).  Plus, I am in another hotel room that smells like ass sweat and dead bodies and I have another stomach bug.  I need to try and get a shower but I have almost no water and what I do have is cold and is so mineral laden that its like bathing in the Dead Sea but with zero health benefits.  Tomorrow morning we cross the boarder into Turkmenistan for a fun filled week in the Karakum Desert.  Look it up.  Back in the day it was the shittiest, deadliest point of the Silk Road.  Fun times ahead.  I don’t foresee any iced lattes in the near future…

Medressa in Samarkand

Ken getting ready to take on the Mongol hordes

You can never get enough Timur

Ulugbeg's Observatory

The awe inspiring Registan

Some more epic blue tiles for you to oogle!

My preferred state of being...

It's always a good day with Dove

Ken doing his bit for the Republic!

Give Peace a Chance