I’m awake at the crack of dawn and head back to the Registan complex in the hopes that it’ll be partially lit up by the sunrise. A couple other photographers have the same idea and we’re standing in a line with our tripods set up patiently waiting. I return to the mausoleum and along the way meet four women in the park who are having a breakfast picnic and when I greet them, they ask where I’m from and offer me a stool to join them. They all have black painted eyebrows joining the brows in the middle at a point which is traditional in the Uzbek culture. They’re wearing colourful dresses and head scarves tied at the back, wrapped around buns at the base of their neck. They share slices of apple, biscuits and tea and I provide some nuts while chatting. One of the women speaks a bit of English and says she has four daughters in the US near Niagara Falls.
I thank the ladies for the picnic and head back to the hotel for second breakfast before visiting more sights with Ismat and the group. We wander through the bazaar where I could sit for hours and people watch. There’s stalls containing literally anything you could ever want to buy including produce, bread, meat, cheeses, nuts and dried fruit, bicycles, hat racks, clothing, souvenirs, household supplies, etc. I chat with a few of the shopkeepers and they let me sample some of the food.
The group splits off for free time and Melissa, MK, Rosalie and I find a place for lunch before exploring the Jewish Quarter. From what I read online the area is walled off from the tourist zone as it’s not deemed as beautiful as the tourist sights so kept hidden. What a shame because this is where all the character of the city is. We find an open door in the wall and immediately upon entering it’s quiet, with no tourists and just a few locals walking the streets. The homes are hidden behind gated walls so we nosily peak between the cracks in ajar doors to get a glimpse of what’s behind. Some of the homes have an outdoor garden space with tables and chairs or an area to park their vehicles. The locals are really friendly and everyone says hello. There’s no tourists which makes it my favourite place in Samarkand so far. The narrow street’s gutters are carved into the centre for portions of the road and then deep open ones beside the sidewalk which you could fall into if not paying attention. Vehicles are parked on the side of the road straddling the gaping gutter.
We come across a small mosque and the caretaker invites us in to take a look and climb the small minaret. He then motions for us to go with him to his friend’s curio shop. The small shop is multileveled with every inch crammed with items such as USSR pins and medals, vintage jewellery, a bust of Stalin, farm implements, traditional Uzbek robes and hats and a TV that I’m pretty hasn’t worked since the 60’s. I see a tiny room in a lower level and don’t want to intrude, but he leads us inside and we find more vintage jewellery on display. His living area is 10’ x 6’ with a lumpy couch covered with a sheet, a few pieces of his clothing on hangers on the wall, a kettle, a two burner stove and a small black and white TV that’s playing an Uzbek soap opera. He clearly lives a very simple life but seems happy enough surrounded by his artifacts and proudly showing us his shop. I find a beautiful, old bracelet with colourful gemstone and get it for a bargain of $6.
We continue wandering and notice that a lot of the buildings are falling down and decrepit with signs stating that they’ve been deemed “historical”. Some of them look to have been beautiful back in the day so it’s a shame they’ve been reduced to almost rubble. We find a synagogue hidden behind a carved wooden door that’s guarded by two young policemen. I chat with one of them and using Google translate explain that I’m also with the police and he peppers me with questions. His brother has lived in Toronto for the last eight years and he could’ve gone, but chose to stay in Samarkand. He asks my salary and when I tell him, his eyes get big and he says now he wants to come to Canada. I give him my last Canada pin and he gives a big smile.
We continue walking the streets and kids yell out “Hello” and asking to have their photo taken which I find interesting because they don’t ask to see the photo. They pose and then run off. Some of the parents push their kids in our direction when we say hello as if to encourage them.
It’s our last evening in Samarkand and Ismat arranges for us to have dinner on a terrace with a view of the Registan Complex. It’s gotten chilly so we’re all bundled up in our down jackets and blankets while we eat. After dinner we visit the Registan Complex to see it all lit up and Ismat very nicely offers to purchase me a ticket to enter so I can take photos when there’s very few tourists in the main square. Despite the chilly temperatures, I end up spending two hours taking photos and enjoying the quieter atmosphere.
