Trekking the Silk Road-the ancient history of Uzbekistan

by Robert Davis
US$1 equals 29,816 Uzbekistan som

While the Republic of Uzbekistan may be a relatively new country, its cities and people have a history dating back more than a thousand years.

I had read where Marco Polo pitched camp in the Ferghana Valley while on hunting trips with Genghis Khan. And Alexander the Great crossed the mighty Oxus River so he could challenge King Darius to battle. And more recently, the race for empire in Central Asia brought a handful of English explorers to the ancient cities of Bukhara, Samarkand, and Khiva. What attracted these men? That is what I wanted to find out.

Joining me on my trip was explorer, writer, and frequent lecturer of Asian History, Harold Stephens. Our exploration took three weeks and brought us across a vast land that included the legendary Silk Road and into the Ferghana Valley. We traveled by coach, train, and a 4-x-4 jeep before our journey through Uzbekistan was finished, loaded down the whole trip with maps, reference books, and trekking shoes.

The U.S. dollar goes a long way in Uzbekistan. We exchanged money and carried off bundles of som (Uzbek currency). Our first stop was to Tashkent, the capital. I marveled at the mammoth Russian-built avenues, busy with the traffic of buses, trams, and trolleys.

"Built wide enough for Soviet tanks," the taxi driver joked, displaying a dry, sarcastic humor.

In the center of the main park-Pushkin Park-stands a statue of the general, Amir Timur. Mounted on a black stallion with a mighty fist raised in victory, Timur, known also as Tamerlane, is a national hero to the Uzbek people. The history of his life is colorful-he conquered Persia, captured Baghdad, and led expeditions to Anatolia and India. He also resurrected once-famous cities using the labor of slaves and artists captured during successful crusades.

Uzbekistan, literally Land of the Uzbeks, is a melting pot of races. The Uzbeks are predominately Turkish, but they have been significantly influenced through the immigration of both Persian and Mongol races.

Mountains of heaven

We left Tashkent for the drive to the city of Namangan, nestled deep in the heart of the Ferghana Valley. We were told the drive would take six hours, maybe seven. Travel in Uzbekistan is easy and inexpensive. Trains and buses are the most common form of transportation, but since we would be making frequent stops, we decided to hire a car and driver.

Under a full moon, we drove in silence through the barren Kuramin hills. My thoughts were filled with what it must have been like here centuries ago. Some of the most savage conquerors came and ruled these lands. Alexander the Great set up at least eight cities in Central Asia before the caravans began traveling through the Silk Road, after China opened its border to trade. Huns and Turks came from the west and brought with them a new religion-Islam. Most of the cities were destroyed during the invasion of Genghis Khan.

The car continued to climb, and we crossed between the Syr Darya River and the Tian Shan mountain ranges just as dawn broke. Nothing could have prepared me for the vast vista that opened up before us. With the windows down, the crisp cool air of the snow-capped mountains made the drive exhilarating. I understood why the locals call the Tian Shan "mountains of heaven."

"This very valley was a popular route for traders and conquerors as they entered through the Khodjent Gates to the west," Steve explained.

As we drove deeper into the heart of the Ferghana Valley, we were surrounded by neat rows of buckwheat. Potato and onion fields cropped up, and apple orchards appeared amid thick forests of birch trees. Our progress slowed as we shared the road with flocks of sheep, their shepherds riding alongside on horseback.

Entering the city of Namangan we made our way to our hotel. Two bellhops dressed in Tartar-style uniforms bowed and took charge of our bags. The owner of the hotel, Oleg, dressed in a colorful silk robe and matching skullcap, greeted us in the traditional manner-right hand placed across the heart accompanied with a slight bow.

Steve and I followed the bellhops down long corridors, kept dark by heavy, velvet curtains. Portraits and paintings lined the walls and chandeliers with their lights dimmed low hung high from the ceilings.

My room was divided into two smaller rooms and sparsely decorated. It reminded me of a Tolstoy novel. A sitting room kept warm by a samovar, and the bedroom, which had a large icon hanging on the wall above the bed.

We had recovered from our day and were making plans for the evening when a chambermaid brought up chai (hot tea) and sweet cakes. This didn't satisfy our hunger, and Oleg suggested we eat out for dinner.

In the footsteps of Marco Polo

Following Oleg's advice, Steve and I decided to try one of the many outdoor restaurants that line the streets and are scattered about the parks. Finding one was easy, and as the hostess escorted us through a dense grove of birch trees, we had little idea of the feast that we were about to be served.

We were surprised to find that we would not be eating at a table, but rather on a raised wooden platform. And we didn't sit in chairs for our meal, but on cushions and carpets.

We tried to sit comfortably while pots of black tea and hot, round bread were brought out. The custom is to pass the bread around the group, each person politely tearing off a small portion.

The table was filled with bowls of a thick broth simmered with leeks, sprigs of rosemary, sour cream, and chunks of beef. The soup was followed by potato dumplings, rice, and lamb kebabs roasted on a skewer with apples and onions. We washed it down with vodka-served in bowls, peasant style. For dessert, fresh strawberries were brought out.

With the wind rustling the branches of the birch trees, it was cold eating out under the stars. But the vodka kept us warm, and as the smoke from the charcoal burning grills drifted like a hazy fog through the night air, we relaxed in the light of torches. Much like the caravans must have done centuries ago, when Marco Polo made his way through this land.

It wasn't long before the first notes of a folk song rung out. Handclaps encouraged a peasant who had begun to dance to the delight of an audience.

Steve explained, "At its prominence, the Ferghana Valley was home to an empire, learning, and trade. The people maintained trade and cultural relations with the people of China, India, Iran, the Arab countries, the Mediterranean area, Eastern Europe, the Caucasus, and Siberia."

The Ferghana Valley became a popular stop on the Silk Road, due to its' rich abundance of wild game, fresh apricots, and pomegranates. Here we drank cold glasses of apple juice, claimed by many as the best in Asia.

One of our stops in the Ferghana Valley was the city of Andijan. It was here that the Mogul Dynasty of India was borne by Zahir Bobur. Bobur, a descendant of Genghis Khan, is not only known as the founder of the Mogul Dynasty, but as a prominent poet. His historical work, Babur-Nama, describes vivid pictures of the people and customs of the Ferghana Valley. It still remains an important resource for historians and archeologists today.

Ancient history

We spent a week in the Ferghana Valley. But time was at a premium and we still had to visit Samarkand and Bukhara. We flew to Tashkent airport from Ferghana and went straight to the train station from there to buy tickets to Samarkand.

The train station in Tashkent was of typical Soviet design with large, arched ceilings and wide halls. Train travel is the easiest and most reliable form of transportation in Uzbekistan. Our seats were large and comfortable and as the train left the station I took out my notebook and reviewed my notes.

Samarkand, Bukhara, and Khiva were located on the ancient Silk Road, the trading route between China and the west. The route took its name from silk, the commodity most in demand in Europe from China.

We arrived in Samarkand just before sunset. Our hotel was located deep in the old city, and just behind the Registan. We were told we could watch the sun set from the roof of the hotel. What a sight -mosques, minarets, domed observatories, and other majestic buildings rose before us. Samarkand can claim to be one of the most ancient cities in the world -included with the likes of Babylon, Athens, Rome, and Memphis. The history of this ancient city is overwhelming- from raids of Genghis Khan to the even bloodier raging hordes of Tamerlane.

Vibrant Uzbekistan

One of the highlights was a walk through the local market just on the border of the old city walls. This was Uzbekistan! Vibrant and full of life… everything imaginable was up for sale. Carts full of sweet melons, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, and a variety of root vegetables were packed neatly, while Uzbek women with brightly colored headscarves and gold plated teeth were in constant motion, shining their produce. During our visit we drank glasses of warm mare's milk, chewed pistachios, and dipped fresh bread with butter into bowls of honeycomb.

The day nearing an end, Steve and I retired back to our hotel. Just like the previous nights, we watched the sun set on Samarkand from the roof of our hotel.

We left the next morning for Bukhara -the crown jewel of Uzbekistan. A city that in its prime was so coveted that many daring men risked being thrown into the infamous bug pits and other forms of horrific torture just to breech its' walls.

Entering Bukhara we found that we were not the lone visitors as had been the case for most of our journey so far. Tourism is beginning to blossom here, with most tourists coming from Germany and France. They come to Bukhara to marvel at the mosques, minarets, madrassahs, cult complexes, and the Samanid mausoleum. They come for a glimpse of the Silk Road. Or they come for the world famous carpets. And they are not disappointed. But they all leave with one thing-a sincere appreciation for a land that has been ruled through both cruelty and kindness since time immemorial, and endured to share its' magnificent history. IL