Central Asia XVI: More Bukhara

As we traveled throughout Uzbekistan, looking longingly at the beautiful crafts, Abdu urged us to wait for Bukhara, "where the best things are."  On October 23, 2021, we spent a whole day in Bukhara, savoring the charm and historical monuments of this old, old city, but also reveling in our buying spree.
 

We first visited the Ismail Samani Mausoleum.  The little mausoleum was buried under centuries of sand and not discovered until the 20^th century.  It was a cube with a dome on top, with sixteen different types of brickwork--absolutely beautiful.  Ismail Samani was the founder of the Persian Samanid Dynasty, in the 800s.  Persian poetry fused merged with court Arabic as Bukhara's library expanded to become the most famous in the Islamic world.  Bukhara grew to 300,000 residents, at a time when London was a village.

We stopped at the nearby shop of a master of brass work, where I bought a large tray.

We visited the Chashma Ayub Mausoleum, which was supposedly the place that the Biblical prophet, Job, struck the ground with his staff, and water immediately bubbled up from a spring.  It is hard to believe that Job traveled from Israel to Uzbekistan, but who knows? God can do anything.  

We next visited the Ark Citadel, the ancient fortress and seat of government for the Emirate of Bukhara for over one thousand years.  It is now a collection of museums and mosques.  We wandered through outdoor throne rooms and reception halls, as well as museums which include photographs from the 1800s, when the emir of Bukhara was a vassal of the tsars.  There was a touching photograph of the young heir to the throne, awkwardly dressed in Western clothes, next to his father, in an Uzbek caftan.

We also stopped by Zindan Prison, with its infamous “bug pit” where two British spies were brutally imprisoned as part of the 19^th century struggle in the Great Game between Britain and Russia for influence over this strategic oasis town.  We peeked down through a grate into the pit where scorpions crawled about and cow manure was shoveled in each day.  The two spies were eventually hoisted out, made to dig their own graves, and then beheaded.

MIR added two special events to our lunch and dinner.  At lunch, held in an attractive restaurant, the former Bukhara city architect talked with us about restoration activities in Bukhara.  He is now working for private clients, and he showed us his plans for a residence to be implanted within the old city, matching the style and planning regulations for the old city.  He also showed us a photo of one of the city’s mistakes, pushed through by a rich developer.  It was a red house with a red roof, right next to the Chor Minor Madrassah, with its four slender blue-topped minarets.  We later tried to take a picture of the madrassah, but couldn’t take it without including the red house!  The architect spoke French, and Michael did a good job of discussing architecture with our guest. Abdu took care of some ambiguities in Russian.

Here's the Chor Minor Madrassah.  Note the big red house to the left of it--a city planner's nightmare!

MIR arranged for a pre-dinner concert that was one of the highlights of the trip.  Three musicians played a mixture of European classical selections, American jazz selections, and Uzbeki classical and popular music, using a piano, a Uzbeki-style guitar, and Uzbeki drums and triangle.  It was mind-blowing to hear Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nacht Musik, played on Uzbeki instruments!   The final song was Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five,” played with that Uzbeki guitar and drums, as well as the piano!

And, of course, there was an elegant dinner at an Old Bukhara restaurant.

We enjoyed visiting the synagogue in Old Bukhara, the last vestige of a formerly large and prosperous Jewish community.  I think of Central Asia as uniformly Moslem, but Christians, Jews, and Buddhists have come and gone through this ancient metropolis.

Abdu led us from one craftsman's shop to another.  This artist made intricate dolls and puppets.

I could choose from dozens of designs for my bread stamp, to imprint my mark in the middle of a round "non" loaf.

The most irresistible shops, for Mike and me, were the ones carrying dozens of hand-embroidered "suzanis."  Mike bought a large one for his wall and a smaller one for his Uzbeki bathroom, and I bought several for table runners.