Travelling the Silk Road: Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand

If visiting the Aral Sea gave me an inkling that Uzbekistan was to be my favourite country so far, visiting the cities of the Silk Road solidified it. There are three major cities from the old route in Uzbekistan – Khiva, Bukhara, and Samarkand. The very names conjure images of dusty travellers on camels, stopping at the caravanserai to trade in precious spices, metals and, of course, silks.

Uzbekistan itself seems to be completely mad. We experienced another of its quirks when we tried to buy diesel on our way into Khiva, the first of our silk road cities. Not having the oil reserves of its neighbours the cars in Uzbekistan run on LPG instead, even the buses and trucks, so none of the petrol stations sell anything else. The closest we came was a petrol station which refused to sell us any, even though we could see the fuel dripping out of a slightly leaky pump; apparently it was only available to farm vehicles.

Despairing slightly, we asked around and eventually found a helpful guy on a scooter who took us to somewhere we could buy some. This turned out to be from an open topped container in some guys shed. We filled our jerry cans, not knowing when we would find some again, and paid with an inch of som.

Khiva is an amazing place; a walled citadel between the forbidding Karakum and Kyzlkum deserts; an oasis and caravanserai; a slaver city once feared around the world; a jewel- a masterpiece of Central Asian design. The central city, Itchan Kala, is girded by a huge sandstone and mud wall. Inside, holding to the shadows along the narrow streets, trinket sellers cluster and try to persuade you to buy their wares. Everywhere you look the architecture is incredible; walking aimlessly through the city turns up minarets, blue-glaze fronted madrasahs, museums and mosques around every corner. Even our restaurant for (a surprisingly inexpensive) lunch was a UNESCO listed building.

After spending the day wandering Khiva, we returned to our guesthouse just outside the city walls where we had dinner sitting cross-legged around a low wooden table with a Canadian couple, Geff, and a Belgian named Antonio who we had first met at the Aral Sea. It’s funny how often we ran into other travellers over and over, as we all followed similar routes along the silk road. By the time we had got to Samarkand, it no longer felt strange to see familiar faces walk through the door of our hostel. We would later meet again a German couple we first met in Samarkand on the side of the road in the Kyrgyz mountains; we had first seen Antonio overtaking us in the mountains of Georgia.

Khiva by night

Antonio decided to join us as we continued across Uzbekistan, so as we set off at a painfully early 6:30 we were flanked by our own small escort of Geff and Antonio on their touring bikes. Following the same route on a similar timescale, the two bikers decided to travel together; they should be somewhere in Mongolia by now, headed on to Vladivostok.

The route to Bukhara took us across the Kyzlkum desert – a huge expanse of sand and rocky scrubland that stretched as far the eye could see. Egyptian vultures circled in the empty blue sky above us as we drove. It was here that we had our first breakdown of the trip. It was easily fixed (a relay had been knocked out by all the potholes and, once found, was simply replaced), but I was extremely glad we’d thought to bring ourselves plenty of water. It bounced out a second time near Samarkand, so is now (like much of the rest of the car) held together with a cable tie.

Once we arrived in Bukhara we quickly found a hostel in the center of the city and hid inside, sharing some drinks away from the midday sun. Temperatures in the heat of the day were in the high thirties – occasionally reaching the low forties. It was at least a desert heat, dry and dusty, so wasn’t too bad to deal with, but it was often much more pleasant to find somewhere shady to wait out the worst of it. Beer being extremely cheap helped too.

The major buildings in Bukhara were similar to those we had seen in Khiva, but were much more spread out – dotted around the city, rather than clustered together within the walls of the old citadel. This meant that it felt much more like a modern working city- perhaps more authentic in a way, although it felt less of a relic of another time. It had a similar feel to it as Rome does, in the way that some areas feel almost like a normal city, then you turn a corner and are confronted with a building straight out of antiquity.

By sunset, we found ourselves having an impromptu kick about with a couple of local kids in one of the main squares of Bukhara, between two spectacular madrasahs lit up by the flames of the dying light. The kids were bouncing the ball off the walls, including the main tower in the city, although we were doing our best not to. Probably the most picturesque place I’ve ever played football.

The following day it was off to Samarkand, the last and largest of Uzbekistan’s silk road cities. Once the capital of Tamerlane’s empire, it holds the biggest and most spectacular examples of Uzbekistan’s architectural heritage. In order to spend more time in Bukhara we had set off late, and arrived in the dark; an experience that led us to vow never to drive in Central Asia at night again – a vow we would break a couple of countries later as we raced across Kazakhstan. We were welcomed into our hostel with tea, melon, biscuits and honey, something we were incredibly thankful for after our long drive. We decided to spend a second night there.

Samarkand is home to the most spectacular architecture in Central Asia – the Registan. We spent a profitable morning wandering in and around it. It is a complex of three madrasahs (large religious schools) facing onto a central courtyard, all exquisitely designed. I can’t do it justice here really, but click on the photos to enlarge them and get a better look.

Also bags of pure MSG!

Another highlight of Samarkand was walking around a huge bazaar close to our hostel, selling anything you could want; piles of spices, dried fruits, nuts, breads, fruit, huge piles of watermelons, hats, knives, brooms, pigs trotters, small golden trinkets. It was fantastic; a bustling and vibrant slice of Central Asia.

A huge mosque in Samarkand. Note the people at the base, for scale

Of the three cities, we disagree as to which was the best. My favourite was Khiva, for it’s stark beauty and how close upon each other the ancient architecture was. I think it also felt older, or rather that it felt more like you had been transported to another time. Myke prefers Bukhara – a more living city, and great fun to walk around. Vard’s favourite was Samarkand, with the largest and most impressive structures. Either way, they were all absolutely incredible in their own ways.

Moving on from the silk road cities, we sadly parted ways with Geff and Antonio who were heading for Tajikistan and the Pamir Highway, and pushed on to Kyrgyzstan. I was sad to be leaving Uzbekistan; it’s madness, beautiful cities, desertscapes, mental currency, delicious food and friendly people had really grown on me. Not somewhere I would have expected to enjoy as much as I did, but it’s a country that I will definitely be recommending to people in future.