We left the little slice of Eden behind and continued by train after entering Uzbekistan, a slightly more comfortable mode of transportation compared to the author of the book I’m reading. We were on our way to Samarkand. That name send shivers down my spine, it just epitomises that Silk Road myth, mystery and romance.
The Registan, I don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of seeing this! I always find it such a strange feeling when finally facing a place that I’ve dreamt of, a slight disappointment of not being able to dream about it anymore, and at the same time as being in awe of the grandeur and greatness of it all. The Ulugbek medressa (left one) is the oldest, built in 1420 and the other two were built in the 17th century.
This is obviously a popular spot for wedding photos. In my opinion, a building can only enchant you that long, until you turn to admiring the street life around it. Joen and me can sit and stare for hours and hours, and that goes for any city, village or hamlet that we have ever visited.
The men usually chill out in various places.
Whereas the women enjoy tea parties and a bit of conversation. I have never been to a place where tea takes such a central part, being an obsessive tea aficionado myself, I cannot think of a better way to spend my days. Sipping tea and people watching, it doesn’t get much better than that.
There are many local tourists in Samarkand and they are usually very dressed up for the occasion, like this little girl who has put on her favourite frock.
Some kind of prophet, with his followers, admiring one of the many beautiful mosques.
Others admire the women, I am not so sure of his flirting technique though…
