After another rough night of sleep, we rose just after 6am to prep for our day. I had read online that one should treat the train stations in Uzbekistan like an airport since there is a security checkpoint. This is according to some guy’s blog named Dan. So, we arrived just over an hour ahead of our scheduled train. The security checkpoint took maybe 30 seconds. Dan, you worthless tramp. I suppose it’s better to have time to kill than miss your train, but if I can’t complain about just about everything on this blog, then what else is there?
There is a faster train called the Afrosiyob that looks all sleek and modern, but they sell out fast several weeks before their scheduled dates. I think tour groups must book them up. We were able to purchase seats on the second best option — the Sharq. While the name may imply shark-like characteristics of speed and cunning, it’s just an old Soviet train whose name translates to “east.” The seat diagram that one uses to book tickets online appeared to not apply to our actual train car. It would have put Nicole and I across the aisle from each other instead of together. This seemed to be an issue for everyone getting on the car who looked confused. We decided to sit together anyway and sent the Uzbek babushka with seat 25 to the better seat by herself across the aisle. She was very pleased with this and FaceTimed a few people to show her off her new throne.
The train departed on time to the minute as if we were in Japan. A tea service came around and I initially grabbed a cup, but then the guy just stood there. Like do I have to pay? Because nobody else had to. He said something in Uzbek while pointing to the other cup on his tray. I guess I took the wrong cup of tea. There was so much confusion, I just ended up putting mine back on his tray and told him I no longer wanted any tea. I still have no idea what the exchange was all about. Nicole said it was like in the Princess Bride where one of the cups was poisoned and I apparently took the wrong one. Dan didn’t talk about any of this in his blog.
We arrived at Samarkand’s station just a few minutes behind schedule. The taxi hawkers were on us like vultures. We tried all different tactics. Nicole started speaking Spanish. I went with Portuguese. This didn’t seem to faze anyone. Now for my beef about Yandex. It has designated pickup spots that it shows on the map. I have been ON TOP of the pickup points pretty much every time, but the drivers don’t seem to ever stop at them. At the train station our driver just sails on by, and starts his timer for the wait period while he’s still driving away from me. We begin to walk in the direction he drove off in. He does an entire lap around the train station. So now we then have to double back and find him again where we originally were — all while we’re getting charged a “waiting fee.” So I guess that’s all part of the scheme? I mean, when our fare is like $2.75, and the waiting fee is like $0.17, I guess I shouldn’t complain, but this practice gets a little annoying. Oh! One more complaint. And you won’t hear Dan talk about this. The language thing is confusing. There is a bit of a cultural reckoning as of late over the usage of Russian in Uzbek society. Almost everyone seems to understand Russian, but having not used it myself for more than 20 years, my Russian is admittedly a bit weak. The problem is, many Uzbeks also seem to think they can speak English to meet us in the middle. Here’s the thing — outside of the hotels, nobody can speak English. Both Nicole and I were spoken to in some sort of bizarre nonsensical combination of made up English words followed up with, “What? No English?” And we’re just sitting there unsure what to say or if we should just reinhabit our Iberian alter egos once more.
Ok, no more complaining! We checked in to the Hilton Garden Inn, where Nicole was given many accolades for her Hilton Honors Gold status. We were upgraded, granted early check-in, reminded of our free breakfast, and received a box of nuts and dates, and a handwritten thank you note. After dropping off our bags, we hopped in another Yandex over to the Shah-I-Zinda necropolis. It is said that one of Muhammad’s cousins is buried here. It housed various other figures of local and Islamic history over the course of 8 centuries. Remarkably, as they continued to build, the overall style and motifs remained the same.
It was quite crowded inside the complex as numerous tour groups clogged the main passageways. I say that for two reasons. One, we all know Bricole don’t like a crowd and will remind you of it at any opportunity, but two — note that it is in fact quite popular to go on a trip to Uzbekistan. After the necropolis, we continued down to Bibi Khanym Mosque. It was initially built in the 1400s, but fell into ruin after various weather events and earthquakes until the Soviets helped restore it to its original glory during the latter half of the 20th century.
From there, it was a fairly short walk to Registan Square — a sort of ancient city center area that served as a meeting area of commerce and public events in the past. Now they just charge foreigners a steep fee for entry — the equivalent of about 11 Yandex rides. Nonetheless, it was a very interesting looking place with mosaics and design patterns that were pleasing to the eye when they weren’t blocked by another tourist’s head.
Registan marked our final destination of the day before hopping in our last Yandex back to the hotel. Samarkand’s traffic is almost as bad as Tashkent’s having also not discovered the left turn signal. After our return, my eye caught a small description while riding the elevator that spoke of a self-service laundry. Wowsers clean trousers! Nicole often brings her own detergent with her, so we paid nothing. The Hilton Garden Inn Samarkand is likely getting rave reviews on TripAdvisor from one, Nicole.
We grabbed dinner at the hotel’s restaurant where I had some chicken curry and Nicole had another margherita pizza. Tomorrow we’re riding another sharq to Bukhara. We elected to spend more time there than Samarkand as it is apparently smaller, more intimate, and hopefully more relaxing. Samarkand with its majestic domes and Islamic architecture is impressive, but it is also a big city. We are hoping to find a more peaceful version of this experience over in Bukhara. And while we’re excited about our upcoming reservation over there, it may be hard to top the Hilton Garden Inn.
Also, every hotel here seems to have invested heavily in pools, saunas, and hammam. As such perks are also included with Nicole’s Hilton Honors Gold status, I made a trip to the hammam to help clear out my sinuses. Then to dry off from the humidity, I popped into the sauna for a few minutes. This is my identity now. I’m one of those bathhouse people. My apologies for looking extra haggard below due to lack of sleep and lack of shaving. I’ll attempt to atone for at least one of these sins by tomorrow.
passports & pepto bismol 