A Day in Bukhara

Today I opt to spend on my own instead of Ismat’s walking tour with the group as I want to get out at sunrise before the streets are packed with tourists.  The skies start to turn a pinkish, purple colour as the locals are returning from morning prayer and setting up their shops.  I reach the Po-I_Kaylan complex containing a madrasah, mosque and massive minaret.  Other than one other photographer, I have the place to myself so I can take my time and enjoy the peace and quiet.  As the doors open to Kaylan Mosque I’m the first one through the doors and see the gold mosque sparkling in the rising sun.  Magical.

I visit another site and see the same photographer as earlier and I introduce myself.  She’s from the Philippines and visiting with a friend for a couple of weeks.  She shows me some of the photos she’s shot and they’re beautiful.  Clearly a professional.  I continue on my wanders and come across an elderly man with a full white beard, gold plated bottom teeth and a red kerchief around his neck.  He’s selling historic pins, coins, aviator caps and pocket watches.  Some of the pins are from the USSR days with the likenesses of Lenin, Karl Marx and Rasputin on them.  He tries to sell me a leather aviator’s cap from the 50’s for “very cheap” but I tell him I that unfortunately I don’t have much use for it in Vancouver.  I show him a Canada pin I have and offer it to him but tell him he’s not allowed to sell it.  He gives me an old metal pin from Bukhara in exchange.  It’s a fair trade.

I peek into a courtyard and see numerous craftsmen working on projects.  I approach a jeweller and find a bracelet style I like but not the right size or colours I’m looking for.  He offers to make me one on the spot and I have a seat to watch him at work.  He’s been to the US to showcase his work and teaches his craft in a small school set up in the courtyard.  I tell him about where I’ve visited so far and my impression of his country.  My bracelet is completed and I continue on to chat with a painter who is creating such a small, detailed painting that his brushes only consist of a couple of hairs and his nose is inches away from the paper.  He shows me the different powders that he uses to mix his paint and tells me the brushes are made from kitten hair (no kittens were harmed)!  He said it’s the best hair as it’s very fine and soft.  To paint a 5×7 portrait takes him approximately 7-8 days but he says he’s often commissioned for larger ones that can take up to a month.

I’ve missed breakfast at the hotel so I dig out a protein bar and some almonds before continuing on to the Ismail Samani Mausoleum.  Sitting on a bench across from it, I see two men playing what appears to be backgammon so I approach to ask.  They’re both friendly and the older gentleman sees my tattoos and then shows me two he has on his hands.  They look very old and I’m not sure what they are but he seems to  like mine and the other younger man interprets his questions to me.  I ask them who’s winning the game and the younger man says, “Me, of course!”  I tell them I play a version of it at home and the elder man gives up his seat and motions for me to play.  The younger man introduces himself as Avir and gives me a brief run-down of the rules.  We have a spirted game, which I win after much assistance from the elder gentleman.  This is the best part of my trip so far.  I love these kind of interactions with locals.  I share a Canada pin with Avir and he goes to his book stall and comes back with a package of twenty postcards from around Uzbekistan.  “Are you sure?  That’s very generous.” I say.  “Yes, yes.  We are now friends.”

I’ve been on my feet for seven hours and exhausted so I visit the Silk Road Teahouse to relax for a bit while editing photos.  The interior is cool and dim, with colourful carpets covering the walls and historic silver urns dotting the shelves.  I try a pot of mint green tea that has unlimited refills and various sweets, dried fruit and nuts to accompany it.  Three hours and two pots of tea later I realize it’s almost time for sunset so I pack up and go to a terrace overlooking the main mosque to meet up with Rosa, Melissa and MK.

We have a homemade dinner at the hotel served by the owner and his sons, while his wife is doing the cooking.  There’s a cauliflower salad and stuffed eggplant to start with and meat-filled cabbage, tomatoes and peppers for the main course.  It’s delicious and flavourful and once again, I’ve eaten too much and created a food baby.

Earlier in the day, I booked a scrub and massage at a local hammam for Melissa and I at 9pm which I’m slightly nervous about.  I read online reviews that were not flattering so I’m wondering what to expect.  Claudia, Lena and Matthias went earlier and say that it was an “interesting” but good experience .  Entering the hammam we’re greeted with the sight of half naked young Uzbek men in towels and bathing suits and a couple of tourists drinking tea.  We’re abruptly told to undress and put our belongings in the locker.  The changing area is in the lobby with a short privacy screen partially blocking the entry.  There aren’t separate changing areas for men and women but luckily it’s just Melissa and I at the moment.  We quickly remove our clothing and don our white sheets to cover the important bits and are pointed towards an interior room.  Immediately upon entering I’m greeted with a warm wall of steam.  There’s multiple dome-shaped rooms constructed of brick with marble floors and platforms in a dim atmosphere.  We’re guided to a hot, dark room and we stumble inside with arms outstretched, unable to see where we’re supposed to sit.  Other than a few nervous giggles we sit quietly, slowly relaxing and stretching sore and stiff muscles.  After 10 minutes I’m beckoned out of the room by a handsome young man wearing swim shorts.  He directs to the platform in the middle of the room and tells me to sit while he dons a shower glove.  Grabbing an arm, he scrubs fiercely while commenting on my numerous tattoos in broken English before switching to the other arm, then proceeding to my upper back and chest.  A big dollop of shampoo and he’s massaging my scalp which feels glorious after not washing my hair for the last week Large buckets of warm water are dumped over my head which leave me spluttering.

“Now lay down.”  Ok, so apparently I’m to be displayed like the sacrificial lamb while Melissa is in an alcove with a bit of privacy.  I’m on my stomach and he pulls down the sheet to expose my full back with just my butt covered.  I tell him, “No cracking please!”  He nods in understanding and says, “Gentle, yes?”  My version of gentle and his are apparently different based on the sounds my spine makes when he kneels on me.  A loud groan emanates from my mouth along with a couple of expletives.  “All good, yes?”  Um, not really but I’m here for the experience so I nod and give the thumbs up.  He massages my arms and upper back vigorously and then pulls each of my arms up behind my head and over to the opposite side.  “Relax, relax.”  Dude, this is as relaxed as I’m going to be when I’m laying here naked among strangers and you’re pulling my arms out of their sockets.  He moves down to my legs and I give a loud yelp when he massages my tight calves.  My feet are pushed towards my lower back and then to the opposite side while twisting my lower back.  Holy mother of Jesus.  I thought I was flexible but this is a whole other dimension.

“Turn over now.”  I flip over, being careful to cover my breasts, which was pointless because he pulls the sheet down to my waist while massaging my upper chest (Not my breasts!  It’s not that kind of massage!). I guess I’m just letting it all hang out for everyone to see as Melissa and I are the only females in the hammam at this point along with four male tourists.  I’m doused again with a bucketful of warm water and then he spreads a mixture of ginger and turmeric across my chest and shoulders.  I can feel the warmth already.  “Good for circulation” he says.  He motions for me to reenter the warm, dark room to relax while letting the ginger mixture heat up.  We chat with a young Brit and Spaniard who are also travelling in the area and it seems kind of surreal to be having a conversation with strangers in a dark room while wearing nothing but a towel.  We’re instructed to move to a cooler room and he douses Melissa with a large bucket of water.  She gives a low gasp and I ask her if the water is cold and she replies, “No, it’s hot.”  I ask the guy and he nods in agreement.  Liars!  An ice cold wave of water pours over my head and I give a shout in surprise.  I’m awake now!  My chest is still on fire but I feel refreshed.  An older gentleman enters the room and he introduces himself and asks where we’re from.  He’s originally from Kiev but lives in Boston now.  Most of his family left the Ukraine years ago and moved to either the US or Israel.  I mention that both Israel and Ukraine are difficult places to live right now and he nods in agreement.  

We’re shown back to the lobby area where we’re provided with tea and snacks while relaxing in our towels along with the two young guys we were speaking with previously except now they’re fully clothed.  We chat for a bit before returning to the changing area to get ready to head back to the hotel.  All in all, a unique and interesting experience!