Uzbekistan
Uzbekistan

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    • Day 21

      Samarkand

      August 18, 2019 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C

      Na al dat natuurlijk schoon in Kirgizië hadden we zin in wat cultuur (en stiekem ook in gezellige café's en lekkere restaurantjes). We zochten dit in Oezbekistan en werden niet teleurgesteld door het prachtige, historische Samarkand. Dit was de hoofdstad van het enorme rijk van Amir Timur in de 15e E en hij liet er kolossale moskeeën, madrassa's en mausolea oprichten.Read more

    • Day 25

      Bukhara

      August 22, 2019 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ☀️ 36 °C

      Bukhara leek wat op Samarkand, maar dan kleiner en gezelliger. In centrum kan je verdwalen tussen de vele mooie moskeeën, madrassa's, caravanserai en overdekte markthallen. Mooie uitzichten vanop rooftops en uitgebreid dineren bij de familie van ons guesthouse maakten het plaatje compleet!Read more

    • Day 35

      Samarkand für uns unerreichbar?

      August 30, 2019 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C

      Kurz vor der Grenze war angeblich eine UNESCO Weltkulturerbestätte. Leider war das ein Flop. Es war quasi eine große Baustelle und sollte später mal zu einer begehbaren Ausgrabungsstätte werden.

      Dann erreichen wir die Grenze. Bei der Ausreise aus Tadschikistan denken wir unentspannt an die komplizierte Einreise.
      Hier ist nicht viel los und der Grenzer öffnet extra für uns das Tor. Die Passkontrolle geht schnell und bei der Fahrzeugkontrolle geben wir das Zollpapier ab. Fertig! Das Ganze dauerte nur 5 Minuten. Außerdem gab es noch jede Menge Lob für Annis neues tadschikisches Kleid.

      Bei der Einfahrt auf usbekischer Seite müssen wir durch die Desinfektion fahren und 8700 Som dafür bezahlen. Wir versuchen uns dagegen zu wehren bis uns bewusst wird, dass das nur 84 Cent sind. Wir bezahlen und es geht weiter.

      Die Passkontrolle geht schnell. Währenddessen beobachten wir den Reisenden vor uns bei der Autokontrolle. Er muss gefühlt sein ganzes Auto zerlegen. Alles muss er ausräumen, das Ersatzrad durchleuten lassen sogar der Motorraum inklusive Luftfilter wird durchsucht. Den Luftfilter kann man währenddessen wenigstens gleich mal reinigen. Selbst eine Endoskopkamera kommt zum Einsatz. Den Rest erledigt der Hund. Was soll das jetzt nur bei uns und unserem ganzen Zeug werden? Müssen wir etwa das Ersatzrad abbauen?

      Wir haben Glück. Nur das Bett muss abgeräumt werden und der Hund wird einmal ums Auto geschickt. Nebenbei wird Anni auf Tadschikisch angesprochen. Jeder denkt, sie habe eine tadschikische Familie. Nach insgesamt 50 Minuten dürfen wir weiterfahren.

      Danach geht es gleich in das Stadtgebiet von Samarkand. Bei der Altstadt angekommen, erwartet uns der schöne Registan Platz mit seinen Gebäuden. Als wir näher kommen, sehen wir eine Bühne und Absperrungen um den Platz. Hier findet heute leider ein internationales Musikfestival statt. Deswegen ist der Zutritt gesperrt und wir dürfen auch nicht mehr aufs Gelände.
      Für uns ist das alles ziemlich dramatisch, aber auch ein Bitten und Betteln beim Einlass bringt nichts. Am eigentlichen Ziel unserer Reise sollen wir also darauf verzichten?
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    • Day 36

      Abreise aus Samarkand

      August 31, 2019 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C

      Wir schauten uns die restlichen Gebäude um den Registan an und bewunderten alles bei Tageslicht.

      Der Basar in Samarkand überzeugte uns nicht so. Unter einem größeren, fast industriell aussehenden Dach waren alle Stände untergebracht. Urig war dabei nicht viel. Ganz im Gegenteil zum Vortag in Pandschakent.
      Weil wir nun das Wichtigste von Samarkand gesehen haben, machten wir uns weiter in Richtung Buxoro. Die Zeit sitzt uns auf jeden Fall im Nacken.
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    • Day 4

      Days 4 & 5: Kokand

      August 25, 2019 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ☀️ 32 °C

      Sardor has arranged a taxi to take me to the southern railway station. Due to the wideness of the streets, the standard of driving is cavalier to put it kindly. Motorists straddle the lanes and when they do change lanes, they don't signal. They jump the lights while parked cars routinely open their offside doors without looking. When I start to attach my seat belt, my driver smiles sadly as if to say, belts are for wimps! In fact the concept of safety is quite different in Uzbekistan to that in, say, Brazil where one of the main topics is robbery. Here, besides the driving, it's about obstacles such as conduits running alongside the pavement or uncovered manholes. Fall down one of those and your injury could be much worse than my trip in the shower.

      Anyway, I emerge at the southern railway station unscathed for my first rail experience here. To save messing about at a booking office, all my tickets were purchased in advance through an agency based in Tashkent. Thanks to Advantour for that. In Uzbekistan the word for railway station is "vokzal" and It's no coincidence that this sounds like Vauxhall. A hundred or more years ago when Russian engineers visited Waterloo station in London for advice about how to build railways, they assumed that because so many trains were going to Vauxhall that that must be the word for station! Or so they say..... This place is busy but spotless. I am concerned that there is no platform indicator and all the announcements are in Uzbek but there are enough uniformed staff to help out. On the train, every carriage has its own conductor so finding the correct carriage is simple.

      The air conditioning doesn't start working until the train starts but it leaves on time and the seats in business class are luxurious. Vendors of snacks and drinks ply the carriages regularly. As we near Kokand four hours later, a young man strikes up a conversation to practise his English. At Kokand he is due to be met by his father, who drives me to my hotel before they set off for home. A good example of Uzbek hospitality.

      And what of Kokand? It's a city of about a quarter of a million and was an 18th century sultanate. The Khudayar Khan palace is a 19th century creation echoing the Timurid wonders I am to see later in the trip; a grandiose facade with every inch covered in coloured, patterned tiles, and courtyards bounded by pointed arches. Nearer my hotel there's a nice view of the square from a 3rd floor window, and an official building beside a fountain which seems to be Russian Art Nouveau. I am starting to find that people can be much more receptive to being photographed than in some Islamic countries and the curator with his young charge at another museum is happy to oblige. Not sure what the large group of young women was getting prepared for but they were also unfazed by a Western camera. And on another quirky note, spot the deliberate mistake on the Turkish T-shirt!
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    • Day 10

      Days 10 to 13: Bukhara

      August 31, 2019 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C

      As I proceed to Bukhara, afternoon rumbles into late evening. I have arranged to be collected from the station, 10 km. from the city centre. A young man is there to meet me. He is amiable but speaks no English so we have to communicate by Google Translate---phone in one hand, driving wheel in the other, in the dark, in 4-lane traffic! Furthermore the second language in Uzbekistan is not English but Russian which I don't speak either but I can decipher the signage. It is mostly in the Cyrillic script although the country has officially adopted the Latin alphabet. When words do appear in the latter, the spelling is often unfamiliar so Bukhara becomes "Buxoro". And Uzbek itself? It is related to Turkish and from a trip there many moons ago I recognise the numerals: bir, iki, uch are 1, 2, 3. All is not lost!

      On arrival at the guest house Kemol (for that is his name) collects my passport for scanning, to ensure registration of my stay with the police. He notices my suspicious look and says the proprietor of the guest house is his father. Later I meet him as well; again communication is by GT but he is affable and being a qualified chef, demonstrates his cooking skills. If anyone can do justice to the national dish of "plov" (mutton with rice) it is he and on Independence Day (1st September) he does us proud. Washed down with some Uzbek vodka.

      Inasmuch as there is a tourist trail in Uzbekistan, Bukhara is on it. There are a number of tour groups and thanks to the relaxation of entry requirements, independent travel is on the up as well. The mainly 16th century Ark (first image) is impressive from the outside but frankly underwhelming within. I prefer the 17th century Abd al-Aziz Khan madrassa, lent an informal air by the footballing kids, and the earlier Kalyon Mosque with its chimney-like minaret (seen at dusk with floodlights coming on as if it were aflame). For some reason these 7 Dwarfs (next image) figures are ubiquitous. Next I turn to weddings and photograph two bridesmaids who were looking upstaged and seem delighted to get some attention.

      After four days the guest house has become like home and I say so to Kemol (final image, with a nephew). It's a shame to leave but the railway calls.
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    • Day 207

      That's the reason Why!

      November 18, 2019 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ☀️ 10 °C

      For a long time I’ve been planning this trip, preparing as much as I could, figuring out the route, the visa and so on. And finally, you are there and commence to live the dream.
      And for me a dream it is fulfilling a desire I had for many years. However sometimes some other feelings make themselves heard as well, pops up and ask, “why am I doing this? “
      After travelling a whole day, and am totally exhausted and realise I only made 80km and the road conditions will not change for the next 300km…
      In every country you need new currency and to watch out you aren’t getting cheated, where to refuel the vehicle, how to pay, before or after, a new SIM card, that often requires settings to be changed and the list goes on and on.
      Or the really big things, like making myself understood in a language I don’t understand. Google translate? That can be very tricky, often translating utter goobledigook and might get you into trouble.
      So many new impressions that need to be digested, so many different customs adapted to, so many cultural differences understood and bridged. I just need a break. But then cannot find a spot to rest for a few days. Or you get chased away by military or police, need to get out of the country due to visa limitations.
      When I travel by myself I might not be really talking to somebody for days, only smiling myself through conversations, so I sometimes dread being addressed by another local.
      When again my car is in the workshop and I have to trott around the industrial estate with Rex for hours on end.
      And probably harder than this travel weariness: sometimes you really miss your friends and family. Shouldn’t bother me that much, I’ve lived far away for the last decades. Still…
      But then there are those many moments, when the view around is of stunning beauty, the village life so picturesque, I drive through the villages and the people wave at me, I have another “conversation” with some woman at the waterpump, at the shop, the street crossing…
      When people realise I am travelling by myself the women putting their hands to their hearts with a big smile on their faces, old men giving me the thumbs up.
      When i again drive through one of those far away villages, the streets teaming with men with long beards, colorful skullcaps and long robes, women dressed in their long colorful, glittery dresses and skillfully arranged headscarves finding their way through cows and calves, sheep and goats and donkeys carrying their load or pulling a cart. It reminds me of something, causing me to suffer from a deja vu until Co traveller Christoph solves my puzzle: it is like a "Krippenspiel", a Nativity Scene. That's it!!!
      When against any doubt I manage the Dushanbe rush hour traffic. I have since realised there is no such thing as traffic rules, there is only everyone for themselves and god against everybody else and, Insh 'allah, he guides me home unscathed.
      When the girl finally understands the difference between “was” and “were”.
      When I am invited to a school to talk to the children about myself, my journey and Australia and am perhaps able to inspire one of them to achieve what is important to them.
      When I meet co-travellers that leave a deep impression and give me the feeling of home.
      When again I have a meal in the circle of a local family.
      When this man comes to me and presents me with a croissant. Just so.
      When during the prayer after the meal my hands unintentionally fold themselves in the Christian manner and everybody bursts out laughing.
      When I can glimpse little snippets of the daily lives and customs of those people I get to know and talk to.
      When again and again and yet again, these total strangers, whose language I don’t speak, whose country I hardly knew existed a few years back, who went and are still going through so much hardship show so much generosity, hospitality, give their time in the attempt to help, offer a bed and a meal – this is touching beyond words.
      These are the moments that make me ashamed of our western way of treating strangers. But this are as well the moments that make my heart hurt from happiness, these are the moments that never will be forgotten. But most of all these are the moments where you say aloud, THIS IS WHY I AM DOING THIS!
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    • Day 216

      Samarkand, du Schöne!!

      November 27, 2019 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ⛅ -1 °C

      Oh Samarkand! No name incites more the flavours of oriental fairy tales, the scent of spices, the rustling of silk and the glimmer of treasures in me than SAMARKAND.
      And what a pleasant surprise this city was from the moment I drove through the gate! Wide boulevards constructed during the UDSSR aera but without that Soviet union "flair". Clean, everywhere those broom ladies fighting the dropping autumn leaves, and, I can hardly believe it, the Drivers aren't by far as as pushy as in Dushanbe.
      But then of course there are the cultural highlights. The splendor of the Registan, the Bibi Khanym comlex and many mosques and many mausoleums more...... i was totally mesmerized. As you do or might not know I have this middle eastern thing going so this was right up my alley.
      As it was my luck, on Wednesday's they have a huge light show at the Registan, and I just happened to drop by on my evening walk with Rex. It was spoken in chinese, so I can only assume a chinese tour group ordered it as we others had to watch from further away but for free.
      Today I had to say good bye to SAMARKAND, but before leaving I had to get a health certificate for Rex before to enter those even more bureaucratic states of Turkmenistan and Iran.
      A little side note: I was there alresdy yesterday but found the opening hours to be from 8-11. So when I left I wanted to turn in that little alley. Alongside every road there is a ditch and i am quite panicky about those. And when doing my three point turn, pointing my noise towards the MIDDLE of the road, suddenly kabbummmm, I am in this ditch with me left front wheel. Right away there are two men and after putting in my 4WD they are pushing me out of trouble again. They told me they do this all the time because this ditch has broken in and now runs into the middle of the road. (Nobody thought of getting this repaired???) Piuhhh!!! Now I have sunk intro 2 ditches and broken through one canal lid.
      So I went to the veterinary services with Rex to get that certificate that he is healthy and all vaccinations are current.
      Thinking they will check the dog I take him with me. When entering the it doesn't look anything like a vet practice but more like an office. Two elderly men sitting on desks and a woman asks me for my concern. I tell her what I need. Nobody speaks English so google comes in handy. Long conversations ensue. Where do I come from, where do I go to, where did I live on Samarkand, when did I go where ... has Google translated googledigook again? What had this got to do with the health of my dog? In the meantime I am told my dog cannot be in the office. I thought you need to check his health?? No, only stamp. I mean this is fine buy me, but I need a certificate. Yes, wait for specialist
      So Rex and I are moved into a room that looked like a classroom and the not English speaking lady keeping me company. How exciting! And we are waiting and waiting. 1 1/2 hours later I am told I need to go to another town closer to the border, that's where I get my stamp. Really??? You needed that long to tell me that? But I have to swallow my frustration, he doesn't understand a word I am saying anyway.
      This inefficiency in these countries can be extremely frustrating. They have rules eg for us travelers, that nobody knows what to do with. In Tajikistan for instance you get a 45 day visa, your car however only 15 days. So you need to go and get this permit for the car extended, but not at 14 days and if it is later than 15 days you might get a fine. So you go to that office on the 15th day and they haven't got a clue what to do. Or are they waiting for some bakshish? Who knows.
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    • Day 220

      Mirror, mirror on the Wall

      December 1, 2019 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ☀️ 12 °C

      The verdict is still out, as tomorrow I will arrive in another one of central Asias treasure boxes, Khiva.
      The sights of Bukhara were again overwhelming. Lots of mosques, Madrassas, carvanserais. Bukhara as well as Samarkand were quite comfortably visited with the dog, quiet streets, pedestrian only areas and parks and hardly any tourists around filling the streets. Being here in the off- season is definitely an advantage.
      We first admired the outside of the buildings together, there are not as many cultured dogs around, and then I looked at the inside without the Rexelby.
      When arriving I meet again friends that already were here for a few days; staying on the car park in front of the Ark I got to know Paula and Finn. We declared the carpark our home: Paula cut my hair whilst Fin attempted to fix my reversing camera and in the evening we had some wines and dinner when some other Co travelers arrived who are on the same circuit as I am. It's the 3rd time we bump into each other. It is so wonderful to meet these people again and again, it makes you feel a bit at home on the road.
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    • Day 196

      Es blüht!

      March 25, 2020 in Uzbekistan ⋅ ☀️ 15 °C

      Wie gesagt: Nach dem ganzen Flug-Chaos ging alles sehr schnell und ich konnte und wollte kein SightSeeing mehr machen. Allerdings war spazieren gehen erlaubt.
      Ich drehte also meine Runden jeden Tag. In Taschkent hatte es in den 2 Wochen zwischen 20 und 30 Grad. Fabelhaftes Frühlingswetter also und alles blühte!

      Wie ging es weiter in Sachen Heimreise?
      Die Regierung von Usbekistan wollte uns ausfliegen.
      Am Sonntag (also eine Woche später) hieß es, wir sollen zum Ticket-Office kommen.
      In der Früh solle ein Flieger starten.
      Als wir ankamen wurde uns mitgeteilt, dass die Regierung ihre Meinung vor einer Stunde geändert habe. Wir machten uns wieder auf den Heimweg.
      In der Nacht kam eine Mail: Bitte am Montag Vormittag noch einmal erscheinen. Der Flieger startet am Abend.
      Am Montag konnten wir dann auch tatsächlich die Tickets kaufen.
      Wir packten unsere Rucksäcke bzw. Koffer und waren schon so halb auf dem Weg zum Flughafen. Da kam die Nachricht: Das Abflugsdatum wird auf Donnerstag verschoben.
      Das Schlimme an dem Ganzen war das ewige Hin und Her. Es kostete Kraft und Nerven.
      Wir stellten uns alle darauf ein. dass alles noch dauern würde. Als das Flugzeug am Donnerstag tatsächlich abflog, konnten wir es immer noch nicht ganz glauben.
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    You might also know this place by the following names:

    Republic of Uzbekistan, Usbekistan, Uzbekistan, Oesbekistan, Uzbɛkistan, ዩዝበኪስታን, Uzbekistán, ازبكستان, Özbəkistan, Узбекістан, Узбекистан, Uzebekisitani, উজবেকিস্তান, ཨུཛ་བེ་ཀིསྟཱན།, Ouzbekistan, Ӳспекстан, Wsbecistan, ཨུཛ་བེ་ཀིསི་ཏཱན, Uzbekistan nutome, Ουζμπεκιστάν, Uzbekio, ازبکستان, Usbekistaan, Ouzbékistan, Ozbèquistan, Oezbekistan, Úisbéiceastáin, ઉઝ્બેકિસ્તાન, Uzubekistan, אוזבקיסטן, उज़्बेकिस्तान, Üzbegisztán, Ուզբեկիստան, Úsbekistan, ウズベキスタン共和国, უზბეკეთი, Uzibekistani, Өзбекстан, Uzbekistani, អ៊ូហ្សបេគីស្តង់, ಉಜ್ಬೇಕಿಸ್ಥಾನ್, 우즈베키스탄, ئوزبەکستان, Pow Ousbek, Uzbecia, Wuzibekisitaani, Uzibɛkisitá, ອຸດເບກິສະຖານ, Uzbekija, Uzibekisita, Uzbekistāna, Ozbekistan, ഉസ്ബെക്കിസ്ഥാന്‍, उझबेकिस्तान, Użbekistan, ဥဘက်ကစ္စတန်, उज्बेकिस्तान, Ozbequistan, ଉଜବେକିସ୍ଥାନ୍, اوزبکستان, Uzbequistão, Uzubekisitani, उजबेकिस्थान, Uzbekistäan, උස්බෙකිස්ථානය, Uusbakistaan, உஸ்பெகிஸ்தான், ఉజ్బెకిస్తాన్, Ӯзбакистон, ประเทศอุซเบกิสถาน, ʻUsipekitēni, Özbekistan, Үзбәкстан, ئۆزبېكىستان, Ŭzbekiston Respublikasi, U-dơ-bê-ki-xtan (Uzbekistan), Lusbekän, אוזבעקיסטאן, Orílẹ́ède Nṣibẹkisitani, 乌兹别克斯坦, i-Uzbekistan

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