Tashkent tour

I was rudely awoken just before 7am by by a serious rumble of thunder. Then rain began to teem down in monsoon proportions. I really hadn’t bargained on rain of that scale (if at all). It just got harder and harder - when I eventually went over to open my curtains my feet got soaked where the rain had leaked in through the edge of the window frame. Four star hotel huh! Could I really be bothered  to join some of our group on a tour around Tashkent? Would it be worth getting soaked for? Did I really travel all this way to then waste a day sitting around at the hotel? FFS man, get a grip, get out there and stop being a big softie! a less polite version was the real thought.

First things first; the utterly tedious routine of repacking my rucksack. So many little bags full of various things - medical kit, cables and plugs, washing kit, practical aids, covid testing kits etc. This is when I miss Cate, as normally we share these between us, making sure we keep the same bags throughout, making it easy to find things. So many bloody turquoise bags!! The problem is that some need to be kept in my day sack, and some travel in the main bag - first world problems! How will I feel after 9 days of the unpack and pack routine??

Bloody bags!

So at 9, I join our guide Richard and the four Americans from our group. Richard has sensibly decided that we'll do the Metro stations tour first, in the vain hope that the rain will relent by the time we need to do the above ground stuff. It's only 200 metres to the Kosmonavtlar Metro station, but we still get a huge dowsing. My new, über-expensive, Montane rain coat stands up well to its first test, but my legs are soaked! Scheiss!

And so we travel along the Metro lines, getting off at each station along the way. By the time we get to the last one before heading up to Chorsu Market, it's dawned on me that we've done exactly the same route as I did yesterday, but in reverse! However, I didn't get off at every stop, so I did at least see a few new stations.

 

 

In line with repeating my exploring from the previous day, we head to Chorsu Market. Another good call by Richard as it's still raining, but nowhere near as heavily. Even though I brought my raincoat with me on this trip; because that we Brit's just do (it's like a reflex action isn't it?), I never even contemplated the concept that it could actually rain. After all, we didn't even have a hint of rain when we came to the Stans for 3 weeks last year. The market was splendid; as markets always are. It was great for people photography, and an assault on the senses. Although I have to say that the stench of some of the meat was not for the feint-stomached!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then we're picked up by a minibus to head to The Centre For Islamic Civilisation. This place is just being being completed, and when it is done it will be the biggest Islamic building in the world, allegedly! Now, if there's one thing the ex-Soviet Stan's like it's an entry in the Guinness Book Of Records; invariably for something beginning with the word "biggest". The minibus stops rather suddenly, and then Richard tells us we have to get off here - we can't get any nearer, as the roads near the building are being re-surfaced ready for the grand opening in a couple of weeks time. Hey, and guess who is opening it??? None other that renowned cuddly teddy bear and lover of all things Islamic, Vlad "the psycho" Putin.

We walk up past the Centre - it's is bloody huge, but looking a good way off completion. Whichever way you look at it though, it's a very impressive building.......

 

 

 

Just beyond it is the Hazrati Imam Mosque Complex. Unfortunately we couldn't visit the main Mosque, as Friday Prayers were about to begin,. Nevertheless, we did get to see the Muyi Muborak Madrassah, Barak Khan Madrassah and Mausoleum of Saint Abu Bakr Kaffal Shashi.Well worth the walk to get to.

 

 

By the time we emerged from from the Mausoleum, the rain had started again. Yet again we got pretty soaked during the 20 minute walk back to our minibus. Nevertheless, the expensive coat continued its impressive debut. Let's hope it holds up for our 8 day walk into Rome later this year. To complete the full set of repetition from my previous day's jaunt, we called into Amir Temur Square. Old Amir remained on his huge plinth, and the Hotel Uzbekistan had retained all its brutalist charm. I took great heart that some things just don't don't change in this ever changing world!

 

Last up, we took in the Monument of Courage, a rather cleverly designed statue to commemorate the victims and survivors of the horrific earthquake that struck the city in April 1966.An estimated 80,000 homes were destroyed, and virtually all significant building in the city were wrecked. The only significant building to survive was the the Navoi Theatre, which ironically had been built by Japanese POW's. Incredibly, the death toll was put at between 26 and 200.

 

Back to the hotel to freshen up before heading off to the station to catch the overnight train to Khiva, near the Turkmenistan border. On the way to the station we loaded up on snacks, mainly of the unhealthy variety (so don't tell Cate!), as Richard strongly advised against eating anything from the train's restaurant car.

Tashkent Station

Our compartment after we'd tidied it a bit

The train was predictably old, but the compartments were a shade short of being disgusting - pretty filthy, with stacks of rubbish left by the previous occupants. I shared a compartment with a very genial Aussie call Jeff. He turned out to be a Pathologist; but more importantly, he had  a vast experience of travelling the world, including North Korea, We chatted the hours away as the train slowly chugged its way southward towards Samarkand, and the turn westwards to Bukhara and Khiva. All of our group had a compartments in the same carriage so it proved to be pretty social. I, and others bought a can of beer from a bloke hawking various drinks along the carriage. A couple of hours later Richard came scurrying along in a state of anxiety to warn us that we were not allowed to drink alcohol in the compartments, as we'd get fined. We had to take them to the restaurant car. Seconds later a fascist in uniform followed! A close call, but why allow someone to sell alcohol in the carriages in the first place?

A patrolling fascist!

DIY bedding

The night drew in, and Jeff and tried to settle down. Who would win the great ashes of Snoring??? If the plucky Brit, renowned for his very poor sleeping, could settle properly surely an open top bus parade around London awaited??