Steve travels #27: The bounds of Bukhara
Still overwhelmed with the number of possible things to see, I decide to focus on some monuments mentioned passingly on the map, but absolutely nowhere else: the gatehouses that surround the city. I’ll walk to the easternmost gatehouse, then follow the walls of the fortified city halfway around, then succumb to the city’s gravitational well and fall inward.
It’s almost an unmitigated disaster. The one mitigation is on the way I bump into apparently Bukhara’s most distinctive monument, Chor Minor. It is the quirky remains of a destroyed madrasa - a gatehouse with four cute little blue domes. While gazing upon its diminutiveness, I notice some tourists gazing back from its roof. But how to get up there?
A careful lap around the outside does not reveal any stairs. A souvenir shop fills the interior. So what gives?
A more thorough browse of the shop uncovers a tiny doorway down the back of some shelves, and moments later, up a ridiculously steep and uneven staircase I ascend to moderate heights.
But the quest to the eastern gatehouse does not go according to plan. I get to the point marked on the map, and…no gatehouse. A busy intersection, lots of shops, and an underpass. A great place to buy clothes and kebabs. But no sign of this grand building whose black and white photograph adorns the map. Locals have no idea what I’m looking for, even when I show the photo.
For that matter, there is no wall. Um. Closer inspection of the map reveals a tiny detail: the wall here is dashed, indicating “former location”. I see.
I never do learn what happened to the gatehouse since the photo was taken, despite some cursory internet searches. I retreat to a French cafe for a coffee, but the power is, fittingly, out.
Eventually I find myself back in the old city centre, beside what was a large public baths, and is now the battleground for an intense goose vs swan showdown. The waterside cafe becomes unexpectedly refreshing when a sudden change in the wind redirects fountain water jets onto the tables and there’s a mad scramble to switch them off. There are a few caged budgies, and I have to resist the temptation to go around telling everyone they come from my country.
Finally, it’s time for what my guide calls Bukhara’s “most popular, and to be honest, overrated” monument: The Ark. Low expectations are always so refreshing. It’s a citadel atop a large (heavily reconstructed) wall, which used to serve as the local rulers’ palace.
The wall is impressive, but it’s true that once up there, there’s not a heap to see. There’s some enjoyably bad taxidermy, a couple of quirky musical instruments, and some moderately interesting plaques about how the khan’s court was conducted. Every morning there is a grand greeting ceremony, and lots of sucking up - very medieval.
And then one more quick lap of the main monuments by daylight. I pop into a couple, but really, the main highlight is often the entrance and best seen from outside.
Over dinner, curiosity gets the better of me and ponder whether, as everyone has told me, train tickets to Khiva really are sold out. Khiva, far out to the west is on everyone’s itinerary if they have the time. But there aren’t many trains, and they sell out weeks in advance.
But maybe I should check. Just in case.