Today marks a special milestone of our Trip. We are at half way, not in terms of kilometers (this milestone is passed already), but in terms of days… We left Beijing 40 days ago, and in 40 days, we will reach (Inch’allah)  Istanbul. So, it is almost a must to look back on these 40 days and give it some thoughts…

We started in Beijing excited, but also anxious. Anxious we would not make it on time, anxious we would not find our way, anxious we would experience technical problems with the bikes, anxious we were not experienced enough to ride through mud and gravel, etc. It took us some weeks to acquire enough confidence to really open ourselves to what this trip has to offer us. At first, we were so concentrated on the road and the traffic, that we hardly saw the landscape. Reaching our daily destination was a great relief. Now that we have ridden over 8,000 km, that we have crossed already 3 countries, experienced all kinds of wheather and road conditions, we are really starting to enjoy the ride itself, and reaching our daily destination is more of a small victory, than a relief. Most of our fears have faded: We have managed to catch up our initial delay, the bikes are doing great and we have had so far no real technical problems (I am touching wood), we have been able to deal with (although not yet master) not only mud and  gravel, but also sand and rivers, etc… In short, everything is working just fine and Mark and me have managed to get along quite well so far, without getting too much on each other’s nerves. The challenges of the trip appear to be where we did not expect them (this is not really a surprise, is it?). First of all, influenced by our experience as car drivers, the daily distances we planned appeared to be quite demanding: with an average of around 300km per day, we end up regularly spending more than 6 hours per day riding. Since neither Mark or me are actually committed motorbike fans, the days sometimes seem a little long. However, now that we are more confident on our bikes, we learned how to enjoy this time, listening to our i Pods, or just releasing our thoughts and enjoying the landscapes.

With regard to our environmental mission, we also encountered big challenges. The major one being that we have so far been more observers than actors. China has appeared as a country with as many problems as potential solutions (see Mark’s earlier post end of May). Kirgizstan seemed – for the biggest part of the country – untouched, although it seemed to be more related to a lack of development, rather than to a specific willingness to conserve the environment. Uzbekistan seems to suffer of severe environmental issues, in particular because of the past over-exploitation of their water reserves ( this problem not being a indirect effect of climate change, but rather a direct effect of unsustainable human behavior). Further, whereas we have seen in China and Kirgizstan eco-friendly energy sources (e.g. solar panels, cow dung, etc.), we have not seen such things in Uzbekistan. The major source of energy seems to be natural gaz (Propane and Methan), which are sold (almost for free) at gaz station (which are far more numerous than stations selling petrol). I wonder what the environmental impacts of such gaz are. Something I will look into after the trip. In one of my previous posts, I mentioned that it was difficult to talk to people about climate change, when they did not seem to comprehend the concept of pollution. Obviously, our message about climate change may have to be adapted to the knowledge and means of action of the local population. This impression has become stronger as we move forward. One thing that that struck as common to all three countries we crossed so far is the lack of waste management: There is a clear lack of trash everywhere. People throw trash anywhere. Understanding that the Nature is not a trash bin seems to me as the starting point for any eco-conscious behaviour. Thanks to the help of the Swiss Embassy in Baku and in Tbilisi, we have been able to organize meetings with students and young environmentalists in these cities, and we very much look forward to discussing these topics with them. We will keep you posted of course!

Another challenge, which is for me probably the biggest one, is the difficulty to communicate efficiently. After a few years in China, where I eventually managed to acquire a decent level of Chinese, I forgot how it was not to be able to communicate. On this trip, I find myself wanting to say something, and not being able to. I make use of my hands, my face, my whole body if necessary, but unfortunately body language is often as different as the spoken languages themselves, and so often, my efforts fail… This may seem very common to some of you, who live in China or come to China without speaking the language, but it is a situation I had not found myself in for a very long time, and I had forgotten how it felt.  Luckily, this has been more of a personal annoyment rather than a hurdle; many locals – at least in major touristic places – speak at least 1 or 2 foreign languages. As for Uzbek people, they usually speak 3 languages: Uzbek, Russian and Tadjik. So learning also French and/or English is a “Kinderspiel” for them. Actually, it is impressive how many Uzbek people (in the tourism industry) speak French. Even the small souvenir seller speaks basic French. The reason: The importance of French-speaking tourists, and the presence of Alliances Francaise (the French version of the Goethe Institute).  And it is true, the number of French tourists in Uzbekistan is impressive, and so is the lack of american tourists… Surprising is further the number of Swiss tourists… In everything stop we made in Uzbekistan, we met at least 1 Swiss person. Here in Bukhara, we actually met in total 8 Swiss, among which 6 were riding BMW bikes from the Bodensee, and another Swiss riding a Honda from Bern… In total, we probably met about 20 Swiss people so far… Is Switzerland getting out of the closet ?

The remaining challenges are rather small and not unexpected, such as the difficulty to find internet cafes with fast and reliable connections, the difficulty to cash money with credit cards, the difficulty to find good quality fuel, etc.

Tomorrow, we will enter Turkmenistan. We are very curious to see how this country looks like from the inside. We heard many stories about Turkmenistan, one being that natural gaz is free there, but matches aren’t, so that people leave their gaz on 24hours a day; another story being that you can be fined if you drive in a dirty vehicle… We will see (or maybe not depending on what our mandatory guide allows us to see) what is true and what is urban legend…

In any case, in order to avoid any fines, and as a celebration of our 40th day on the road, we went for a deep body cleansing and treated ourselves with a traditional massage in the ancient turkish baths of Bukhara’s old city. .. After a divine hamam session, we were cleaned from head to toes, massaged, and scrubbed with ginger powder… what a dream! We are ready now for Turkmenistan.

Please note that we may not have any internet (and/or phone) connection in Turkmenistan, so please be patient if you don’t hear from us for a few days. I am sure our Turkmen guide will be taking good care of us… Ciao!

Another day, another mission: tackle the black sands and soaring temperatures of the northern Karakum desert on our way to Bukhara. Trying to make a habit of our “desert tactics”, we were gone by half-past 6 in the morning, happily enjoying the soft light, early morning smells of cut grass and watered plants as well as the cool breeze rushing through our open jackets.

An hour later, we had crossed again the makeshift bridge over the Amu Darya and had made our way back onto the A380, the only “main” road connecting the north of the country to central Uzbekistan. One more hour down the road found us tanking up at the last gas station on this side of the sandy flats, hoping to avoid the petrol shortage we encountered on our way up. The bikes’ and bikers’ thirst had been quenched… BRING ON THE DESERT!

We rode, and rode, and rode and rode more, music gracing my ears and thoughts whirling in my head. Main topic of the day: the progression of life phases. How is it that time goes by so fast? So many of my friends from various walks of life are now in the process of settling down, having found their life partners. No weddings yet, no children yet… but boy are the next 5 years going to be filled with nuptials, births, christenings etc… Taken aback (yet looking forward to these events) by this thought, I realized yet again, and reminded myself to make the most of the present moment. After all, the only thing that NEVER comes back is time, and each age, each part of life must be enjoyed for what it has to offer, for never again can we relive those precious seconds and minutes. I looked around, took in the desert scenery, the yellow sand, the sparse green bushes, the occasional goats and breathed in the warm air, promising myself to remember this moment.

We broke for a wonderful lunch at the unhappy town of Gazli. A liter of Coke, 2 shashlik, a bowl of langman (noodles) and a liter of water later, Clarisse and I happily laid back on the benches to indulge in 30 minutes of blissful farniente.

We set on our way again at 2pm, hoping to cover the 100km separating us from Bukhara in little more than one hour, and indeed, 60 minutes later, we were “coming in for landing”. Of all the cities we have come across, Bukhara certainly wins the prize for most difficult to navigate! Of course, it doesn’t help that we picked a B&B in the heart of the old city, but still… we meandered through the exceedingly narrow alleyways of unpaved and terribly uneven roads, trying desperately to avoid the building corners, wooden beams, stone blocs etc… jutting out into the street, desperately looking for an “olympic sign on a garage” as our friend the Lonely Planet described the hotel’s “distinctive” marker. It was hot, we were sweating, we were tired and we couldn’t find our hotel! AAARRRGGHH! It didn’t help that, stopping to ask for directions, my bike slipped and fell right in front of a crowd of onlookers… how embarassing! Fortunately, they were good sports and in no time, we were back on the search for the hotel.

FOUND IT! finally! But nobody answered the doorbell! We rang again. And again… no luck. By this time, we had ridden down these streets a few times and had spotted a few other establishments. We pulled over when a man with a friendly round face and large smile beckoned us over. “Your friends are here” he said.
“Friend?, what friends?”
“The other people with motorcycles”
“Ah… ok.”

We didn’t know these people, but the chap seemed friendly enough and the hotel clean enough. It was 15h40 and we were fed up. In we went. As it turns out, the other motorcyclists were 6 Swiss!

Shower, Shashlik and beer concluded the day, in the company of our new found acquaintances from the homeland.

After a warm night (we tried not to use the airconditioner) and a lazy breakfast, we headed out to discover the old town of Khiva together with a young francophone Canadian, Francois. As you can see from the picture above, Khiva’s old town is built entirely out of mud, straw, bricks, stones and wood. Not only is it beautiful, but the buildings are designed so as to provide coolness and air during the hot season and – so it seems – also to resist time. Some of these buidlings are hundreds of years old, and if regularly maintained (and not destroyed by any tyrans or wars), they resist quite well. People here live in such houses and they seem at least as happy as we do in our tall iron/glass towers.

This made me realize, how ignorant I am with regard to all architecture and  construction related questions, and in particular concerning the environmental impact of various construction materials… Why have we dropped traditional ways of “air conditioning”, isolation, etc.

Another thing, I will look into after the trip… Ciao!

Despite the luxury of only 200km to go, we headed out really early in an effort to beat the heat. After all, we knew the menu since we had ridden 80% of the road 2 days ago on our way to Nukus. The plan worked well… until 7h45 am. By the time an hour and a quarter had gone by, the air had already heated up, and we were kept “cool” by the warm rushing air hitting our faces… not the best option… if we had an option that is!

For the first time since we set out, we were riding the same road in the opposite direction. This proved both good and bad. Good: we were able to judge easily where we were and how long we had left. Bad: frankly, although the scenery once to our left was now on our right and looming ahead of us was what we were riding away from, the desert landscape is little different whichever way you look at it. Vistas were thus out of our mental picture, and we had to resort to good old fashion thinking and listening to music to while away the kilometers.

After stopping for a refreshing coca-cola (without wanting to advertize for them, I must admit that there is little better than a cold Coke in the blazing heat… ok… there is an argument to be made for cold beer, but we ARE driving, remember? beer is for the evening only!) we asked around for the road to Urgench and Khiva. It is a little baffling that, although one of Uzbekistan’s 3 biggest attractions, Khiva/Urgench is signposted NOWHERE! Moreover, the road is not exactly “well ploughed”. A small country path wound through the fields that got lusher as we approached the Amu Darya (present-day name for the Oxus river), finally petering out at a makeshift bridge, of which we have no photos because I was too concentrated on riding across to be able to stop and snap some. Urgench was easy to find (do all roads lead to Urgench?) but here again, the lack of signs for Khiva was surprising. Nevertheless, our lacklustre uzbek/russian was enough to get us onto the fantastic road to our destination.

We entered the north gate of Khiva’s old city around 11am, only to find ourselves lost in a maze of narrow alleys between mudbrick houses. I was assured that we were on the right street for the hotel, but still could not find it (later I discovered that there were 4 streets with the same name, all in the same neighborhood!). A little boy on a bicycle took pity on these obviously stupid foreigners and lead the way, winding through the close-knit houses. Needless to say that it was much easier for him than us! We constantly feared hitting the houses! Now normally this would be bad news for our bikes… not so here! My biggest fear was ripping nice large chunks out of the earthen houses. Happily no damage was done and the Islambek hotel proved clean, airy and welcoming, in short almost a palace compared to Nukus’s $#&-hole.

A shower and a change later, we were to be found in a restaurant whose atmosphere was distinctly better than the food. Still, we had made it early and were happy. The afternoon was spent lounging, napping and dealing with some administrative issues. And in true holiday fashion, we whiled away the evening drinking beer and fanta on the roof of the hotel with Matthias and Francois, 2 fellow travellers (we had already crossed paths with Matthias in Samarkand), while watching the sun set on a hot Khivan day (see photo above) and looking forward to tomorrow’s day of rest.

This morning, we tried to avoid the heat and left the hotel at 7am heading to Moynak, which used to be the second biggest harbor on what used to be the fourth world biggest interior sea, the Aral Sea.

In 1961, Moynak was a florescent fishermen village. Today, Moynak is just a desolate place having lost its soul. The reason: the sea is gone. It now starts 150km further north leaving a desert of sand and its ships skeletons. Why ? Because at the time of the Soviet Union, Uzbekistan and in particular Karakapalstan was designated as the place to grow cotton in, and the two main rivers which lead to the Aral Sea were diverted and exploited to irrigate the cotton fields. From 1960 to 1985, the Aral Sea had shrinked to such an extent, that marine life slowly came to an end. Even though Uzbekistan has abandoned the cotton monoculture and has diversified its agriculture trying to limit the damages, the efforts have not suffice to reverse the phenomenon, although it seems to have stopped the shrinking.

Originally, we had planned to stay in Moynak until the heat fades, ie late afternoon, but after an hour walking around the ships, we felt quite depressed. Sad to see where the lack of sustainable methods (combined with human greed) can lead, depressed by this village which seemed to barely survive, and dehydrated by the heat, we decided to drive back to Nukush despite the telling sun. When we left, an elderly man who seemed to live in a rusty caravane near the “view point” and who had been quietly observing us for a while, approached us and watched us getting ready. Without asking for anything, he was obviously hoping for something. Although communication was difficult, we figured he must have been a fisherman back then. If only we could give him back his sea… How sad must it be for him to look at this desert everyday from his caravan and remember the times when he was a kid or a young fisherman… The only gift we had was a pack of cigarette, and he almost cried when we gave it to him…

The way back to Nukush was at the same time sad and a relief. Sad of what manhood had done to the Aral Sea. Relieved to go back to a ”lively” city (compared to Moynak, Nukush is very entertaining…). We rode almost 1000km to come an see this desolate place. Would I come again ? Probably not. But one thing is sure: In memory of the Aral Sea and of this fisherman whose eyes seem to be waiting to see the sea again, I will use water much more sparingly than before. I hope you will do so too. Ciao!

(PS: due to some technical problems, we are currently unable to upload pictures, but will do so as soon as we can… stay tuned)

We had slept just as soundly as the blaring music from the neighbors’ shashlyk (local sausage made of minced meat) had allowed us to. Still full from last night’s ration of Non and meat, we politely extricated ourselves of the wonderous plov feast our lovely host family were trying to tempt us with for breakfast, determined to quickly put behind us the 200km separating us from Nukus, the capital of little-known and even less visited Karakalpakstan. Once an autonomous “republic” under the Soviets, Karakalpakstan was attached to Uzbekistan in 1924. It comprises the Northwest of present-day Uzbekistan, around the southern edges of the environmental catastrophy otherwise known as the Aral Sea.

With little distance to cover, we left at a leisurly 9am, by which time the heat was already telling. An hour later, it intensified, the rush of warm air failing sadly to cool us down properly, despite open jackets and a brisk pace. Nevertheless, I would choose this over the cold of Qinghai anyday! Fortunately, we reached Nukus just minutes past noon and checked into one of the 2 hotels here. Courtesy of its Lonely Planet fame , Hotel Nukus charges a whopping US$ 26 per night for a ratty room, where the bathroom has no sink, a leaking toilet and a shower that, if turned on, cuts the watersupply to the toilet… the Uzbek version of the 1001 nights palace. We had had a good mind to shop around for an alernative to the Lonely Planet’s suggestions, but given the soaring midday heat, we caved in, unpacked and headed to the Sheraton Cafe (not of Sheraton fame) for a decent salad and more essentially COLD beverages.

With food for the body taken care of, food for the mind was next on our list.(gees… we seem to be doing a LOT of cultural activities these days!) Happily, Nukus is the home of one of the more unlikely and astonishing collections of art in the world: the Savitsky Karakalpakstan Art Museum (www.savitskycollection.org).

Igor Savitsky, a painter by formation, having spent many years in Central Asia, became fascinated with the local Karakalpak  people, customs and scenery. The museum houses his works but also a hugely diverse collection of local painters and most interestingly many works of artists deemed un-sovietic by the high-flying cultural experts otherwise known as the communists. In a  masterful effort, Igor Savitsky was able to hide these works in Nukus, and as a result, amassed a very significant collection of works that neither of us had ever hear about. I would be very curious if any of you have (if you’ve been here before, you don’t count!). At any rate, although none of the artists bore familiar names, their styles -although varied- were recognizable. Clearly inspired by the western masters, it’s easy to see why the ignoramus russky commies sought to destroy these works. The 89,000 works are rotated through the museum, and the display is surprisingly decent. I doubt many of you will fly to Nukus (yes, you can fly here from Tashkent) just to see this museum -and nor would I recommend doing so- but if your travels take you to Uzbekistan, it is worth a detour. More significantly, work is being carried out to popularize the collection, and some of it has and will travel, so keep your eyes out for the names “Savitsky” and “Nukus” at a museum near you.

It is amazing how different this place is to the Uzbekistan we’ve been travelling through so far. While on the south side of the Kyzylkum desert (Bukhara, Samarkand etc) police-officers litter the  street, hardly is one in sight here in Nukus. Also, the smiling, jovialness of the Uzbek ethnicity is rather difficult to find here: not to say that the locals are unpleasant, but they sure smile less. The dress also seems different: there seems to be significantly more russian (i.e western) influence  in the choice of clothing: dresses and high-heels have replaced the sandals and flowing floral-patterned robes worn by women and the traditional male coat and oh-so-photogenic beard has vanished. The architecture is also staunchly soviet. Perhaps most significantly, we seem to be having more difficulty in communicating with people: it’s not that our non-existant russian skills have worsened, but likely that the drive to understand two nonsense-spewting foreigners is lessened: a sure sign that the prevailing culture has changed.

Tomorrow promises to be hot, as we take a day-trip to Moynaq, formerly the 2nd largest harbor on the Aral sea, which lies today, somewhat depressingly at 150km from the real shores. Stay tuned… for we will report!

As mentioned by Mark in his last post, when I got back to the hotel yesterday, a quick look on the shelve where our helmets were and I discovered a colony of ants. I first thought it was due to the mars and twix bars that I had left next to the helmets and I was already blaiming myself for it, but th eants  were not at all interested in chocolate. Instead, they had invaded they very inside of our helmets. I coulnd’t figure out what it was that attracted them, our sweat, a smell of grey cells, or – more likely – some kind of chemical inside our helmets. I first thought of rinsing our helmets, but had to drop that idea because of the earplugs and microphone which we built into our helmets. I then went to see the hotel manager, who was not at all surprised and explained to me that their ants are somewhat peculiar, they prefer plastic bags and chemicals to honey and other sweets. Luckily, the manager  still had a piece of “highly efficient insecticide medicine” (from China…), which I spread all over and inside our helmets. I figured I’d rather have a headache from the insecticide, than ants crawling down my neck while I drive… And more over, Chinese medicine is usually pretty natural. It worked miracles and this morning all the ants were lying dead outside our helmets (and no headaches).

After a great breakfast, we left Samarkand trying to find a gay station selling something better than A80 fuel. After a few stations, we found one with 91! Ready we were to continue our way to Budhaya and through the desert up to Nukush. Before starting our path through the desert, we even found A93 fuel and filled also our canister, you never know… The road through the desrt appeared to be nicely paved and straight forward, allowing us an average speed of around 70km/h, if it wasn’t for the police check points. The saying has it that the desert makes people crazy. Well, at least it seemed to have some impact on the local policemen. First of all, the police here does not stop us to check our papers, but rather to chat with us and check out our bikes. At the first police check point, one policeman even wanted to buy me… (Mark and me were at that time officially cousins and not husband and wife). At out lunch break, we met Inspector Elib, who after asking us about our relationship ( I this time opted for the husband-wife version(, played around with Mark’s cell phone and even called his own cellphone from Mark’s, requesting afterwards that Mark delete the log entry… He then played with Mark’s kidney belt and suggested we could give it to him as a present. Mark of course refused and the policeman accepted a cigarette instead. At the next check point, we were again asked to stop, but not for a document check, no, just in order to answer the question: “Uzbek Policemen, good?”. Of course! “Uzbek Policement very good!”.

At this point, we had been on the desert road for over 300km and still no gaz station… Mark’s warning light went on, and 30 kil later, still no gaz station, so we have to use our canister… Luckily, another 30 kil later, a gaz station selling 91 fuel crossed our path. We were saved and would not have to spend the night camping in the desrt. We rode another 70 kil to the next village and – not very optimistic about the existence of any hotels there – we knocked at the door of a family restaurant asking if we could spend the night there. We could. So we are now with a local family, although in a separate room. The only minus is the loud disco music played for the restaurant guests, but after  several hours riding through the desert, it will take more than some loud music to keep us from falling asleep. Ciao!

I was up early… real early: for the first time in a long time, I woke before my alarm went off at 4:30. Early? Sure… but catching dawn at the Registan is worth it! I watched the city from the top of the Ulugbek Medreseh as it slowly woke from a sweet slumber. Clouds and haze gathered at the horizon, “spoiling” the perfect sunrise, but soon enough, Helios stretched his warming arms and the golden rays bounced off the Registan monuments and the Bibi Khanum mosque. Be sure to check out the photos in the gallery for some pretty neat shots from my morning walk

After another great breakfast, we headed north to check out Il Bukhari, the final resting place of one of Muhammad’s diciples, said to have brought Islam to Central Asia, allegedly one of the holiest places in the Islamic world. Indeed, it did not disapoint: a very well manicured garden, peaceful courtyard and naturally exquisite architecture (again, photos in the gallery). 

Back in town, we took care of some routine bike maintenance before heading out to the carpet factory, where we learned and experienced why persian carpets cost so much. In short, everything is hand made. The factory, or more accurately worshop, buys raw silk (photo at top) from the government of Uzbekistan (the country grows very large quantities of it, which explains the ubiquitous mulberry trees, which actually produces delicious, sweet fruit), but everything thereafter is home and hand made. It can take anywhere from 6 months to 2 years to produce a silk carpet. This particular worshop is a completely ethical entreprise, employing many women from 18 upwards. The employees have 1 month paid vacation a year, work 8 hours a day with regular breaks, 3 years maternity leave etc etc. In short, a very good place to drop a few thousand dollars on a carpet if you wanted to / could do  (we would have liked to, but sadly it will have to wait till our respective coffers swell a little). In short, the message is: handmade carpets are expensive, but they take time, effort and a lot of TLC. Seeing these girls & women work, tying hundreds of nots every 10 minutes makes you appreciate what goes into these works of art. So next time you walk across a persian carpet, bend down, flip it over, look at the knots on the back and think that someone has spent hundreds of hours tying little pieces of silk/wool string together for you to enjoy the final work. Then flip the carpet back and walk on it (after all, it is a carpet, that’s what it’s meant for) with the respect and awe that is due!

Sadly, the workshop was all out of flying carpets, so we must resort to riding the bikes tomorrow, and therefore rest must be gotten. Moreover, Clarisse has just texted me to let me know that a colony of ants have made themselves a comfortable home inside our helmets… ouch… this must also be solved tonight!

Today, for once, we did not wake up too early, and enjoyed a generous breakfast before the guide picked us up at 9:30. The guide, Osman, a 27 year old Tadjik, who grew up in Samarkand, spoke perfect French and happened to be a true encyclopeadia of the history of Uzbekistan, and in particular of our friend Amir Temur. So, we started the visit with the Gu’ Emir (the tomb of the Emir), where Amir Timur is burried together with his grand son, his son and his spiriutal leader. We went then to the Registan, which is constituted of a complex of 3 Madrasas (coranic schools), one built by Ulugbek (the grand son of Amir Temur), and two others built later on. We then headed to the Bibi Khanum Mosque, which is the biggest Mosque in Central Asia and also built under Amir Timur’s order. We ended the visit with a complex of Mausoleums called … In short, we spent 4 hours walking from one impressive building to another, being told about wars, conquests and defeats we had never heard before. Although our brains were a little burnt out after this avalanche of historical information, we felt revigourated by the richness of Samarkand’s history and culture. These impressive buildings are really inspiring, they are beautiful, peaceful, imposing but not arrogant, and the history that goes with them worth a thousand tales… These buidlings, who were almost all fully destroyed by invasions, natural catastrophes, abandonment, are being reconstructed (the reconstruction started already in the 1920ies under the russians, and has been taken up in the 1940ies and since the 1990ies). Unfortunately it takes more time to rebuild and restore this treasures with today’s means, than it took at that time to build them, so that reconstruction is slow. This made us think about how stupid warlords, who ordered the eradication of whole cities and towns, had been, but I guess their (manly) ego was more important than the benefit of cultural heritage for future generations. Luckily, the reconstruction works are really impressive, and I can only imagine what Samarkand will look like in 10 years…

We then made our way to Ulugbek’s Observatory, or what remains of it.  In the 15th century, this guy actually managed to calculate the distance between the sun and the earth almost as precisely as we can do it today with all our technology. Were these people geniuses, have we gone dumb, or are we missing something ? I don’t know what it is, but seeing all these master works and minds was a really efficient humility treatment… I thought I was smart and everything, but honestly, compared to an Ulugbek…  i just have a prettier first name

We ended our cultural tour with the visit of the Afrasiab Museum (the ancient city of Samarkand, at the time of the Zoroastrians), and I then went for a nap, again. The evening ended in a trendy restaurant of Samarkand, together with some fellow travellers, where we managed to order something light! Youpi.

I am already looking forward to a second day of discovery of Samarkand’s treasures… Ciao!