One reason I chose the MIR tour of Uzbekistan was the small group size. On my tour there were just eleven of us: two trios (a couple with a woman friend), two duos (one couple, one pair of sisters), and me. Everyone was well-traveled, some had lived abroad, and several had used MIR before – one of the trios had met on a MIR tour of Iran the year before. Even better, everyone was friendly, and everyone was hyper-punctual. Only eight of us met up for introductions and lunch on the first day, as one trio was flying in from Seoul that afternoon, having chosen to avoid Istanbul.
Although there were only eleven of us, lunch, as with most meals, was at a tour-group-friendly restaurant (Taroma, in this case). Another group was already there, and an online check indicated that music and dance accompanied dinner. But I certainly couldn’t complain that we were underfed. The meal started with Indian-style samosas, followed by cream of potato soup, stuffed cabbage and peppers and dessert (which I mostly skipped). And bread, Central Asia’s other staple food, alongside plov. Not only is it a staple, it is treated with great reverence, and left over bread is never just thrown away. Cooked in a tandoor style oven, it comes in rounds, with a thick raised rim, the size and style varying with location. (One of the photos below is from Tashkent, and one from Bukhara.) However, it was always made from white flour, one of the bad carbs I was avoiding.
Sightseeing started after lunch, with a drive to the Chorsu bazaar. Chorsu means “four ways” or “crossroads”, and this area served traders even under the Soviets, who built the two-story dome that sheltered the main section, where meat, vegetables and spices were sold in clean and orderly surroundings. Less-favored vendors sat on the ground outside, and after giving us time for photos Abdu led us round the corner to a clothes section, offering both everyday gear and wedding finery.
The day was hot and getting hotter, but we pressed on to the Abu Bakr Mohammed Kaffal Shoshi mausoleum, which held the sarcophagus of a tenth century doctor, philosopher and poet, although most of the building dated only to the 16th century, followed by the Moyie Mubarek Library Museum which sheltered the 7th century Osman Quran, said to be the world’s oldest. The library held a number of other interesting Qurans, but unfortunately no photographs were allowed. More beautiful tiled buildings flanked the large Khast Imom square, including the residence of Uzbekistan’s grand mufti (think archbishop).
After this visit to old Tashkent (although a number of the buildings were new) we returned to the present day at the Crying Mother Monument. Built in 1999, it honored and memorialized the 400,000 Uzbek soldiers who died in WWII. Their names were recorded along the corridors leading to the weeping mother and the eternal flame. This was clearly not a memorial to heroism or glory, and I find it interesting that war memorials are becoming less grandiose. I was reminded of the memorial to the Russian dead from the Afghan war I had seen in Ekaterinburg, centered on a tired soldier leaning on his rifle. I found this memorial particularly moving.
We finished the day walking through Independence Square, where we chatted with some English-speaking kids, and were introduced to the storks I had noticed in the morning. A guard warned me off photographing one of the buildings, although I think I had already done so earlier. Then Abdu went off to the airport to meet the final three group members, one trio went off to the ballet, and the others returned to the hotel for food and sleep. I chose to go back to Bar Sylva. Since I passed on the home made wine this time (too sweet), the bill, with tip, was only 36,000 som (about 12 USD at the then current exchange rate, about 10 USD today).