An uncomfortable journey - to beautiful Bukhara

Sunday 29 April/Monday 30 April

When we first look inside our first class train “cabin” for the journey from Tashkent to Bukhara, we think – this seems fine – very similar to the compartment we had for our 3 day, 3 night journey from Moscow to Tashkent. However, this train has 3 major differences. First, our compartment is right next to the toilet, and the smell of stale urine is intense, even with our cabin door closed. Second, despite the really warm temperatures in the day, the night temperature plummets as the hours wear on, the bedding is inadequate, and we feel really cold. Reg ends up donning his fleece. Lastly, and most importantly, the train jerks and cranks and stutters and judders its way towards Bukhara, meaning that sleep eludes us both for most of the night. Reg has had a coughing, sneezing cold for a couple of days now, which doesn't help.

We've got the luggage transportation off to a tee now, with Reg donning his large backpack, me donning my small one and carrying his small packback in my left hand, and Reg and I together steering and pushing the atrociously heavy 4 wheeled suitcase (it's actually I discovered got 6 wheels, with 2 smaller ones underneath). This works really well until we reach stairs, when Reg takes the large suitcase and I take his large backpack – or we do it in two trips. The station platforms are usually quite good, though the Tashkent and Bukhara ones were made of paved brickwork which was tricky. Obviously fairly newly done – did the architect not give any consideration to the fact that people would be wheeling luggage along the platforms?!

Reg knows from his research that Bukhara will be beautiful, but nothing prepares me for Bukhara's spectacular pale sandstone ancient architecture (much restored to bring back its original splendour), and its restful atmosphere. The quiet pools of water, shady trees and practical absence of motor vehicles in the area where we are staying whispers in a soothing voice,

“Slow down, rest, relax, take your time.”

Our hotel (no hostels remember in Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan), is old and full of character, with a beautiful open courtyard in the centre, and the guests rooms being built 2-storey around it, meaning the courtyard with its pretty vegetation always has some sun and some shade. There are tables and chairs to relax in.

Over breakfast we meet an Australian and his wife and daughter, who are from Tashkent. They live now in the Netherlands, and tell us about the wife's difficulty finding a job there – she was a lawyer in Tashkent.

Our room is simple but comfortable, with ensuite toilet and shower. There's no wifi though, but we've spotted a couple of internet places around about, where tomorrow hopefully I'll be able to publish this blog posting. The first thing I need to do is sleep – and we've only just arrived. Our night train trip has taken its toll.

There are street traders selling local crafts – beautiful embroidery, wall carpets, pottery, bags, and skillful hand-done mini-paintings which are a local art, which tell a story. The prices are all quoted to us in dollars. The atmosphere is very arabic. One of the street traders speaks a little English and shows us a beautifully crafted and hand painted chess set which is a backgammon set underneath. We tell him we can't carry it and explain that we're travelling through central and SE Asia to Singapore. He jokes that we could post it, and that his goods are “almost free”! We don't ask how much, but instead ask him to recommend somewhere good to eat. He points in the direction of a small cafe about 50 metres down the road.

It's our hottest day so far – 27 deg c. We enter into the welcome dark space of the inside of the cafe. The owner immediately takes us into her kitchen to show us what she can offer us – soup, meat and rice balls, meat kebabs, boiled potatoes, salad. Reg and I both choose a sort of cabbagy soup with meat in it, which is delicious. Afterwards, there is salad and I have the meat/rice balls which taste a bit like faggots, and Reg has the kebab meat, which is served not on sticks but on a plate with boiled potatoes. Again, there are no knives to eat with, just forks. It's the best food we've had yet in Uzbekistan – in fact too much for me to eat it all. With a beer for Reg and water for me, it all comes to about £10.

We still haven't caught up on last night; as we make our way back to our hotel, we get talking to a |German couple who are travelling throughout Europe and Central Asia in a camper van. They plan to be away from home for another 18 months! We thought we were intrepid travellers!

We relax in the hotel courtyard with a cup of black tea, which here they serve very weak indeed. Not too bad though as we don't have milk. Everywhere in Uzbekistan so far, the crockery, ie plates, cups and teapots, has been the same- a deep blue arabic style pattern on a white background. The cups have no handles.

After a siesta, we take a leisurely stroll, soaking up the gentle atmosphere in the cool evening air. I am enjoying an ice-cream, especially as we haven't eaten since lunch. Reg sneezes, and a voice in the dark says, “Bless you!”

I laugh and say to the man,”Do you speak English?”

Then follows a half hour conversation with a man who is originally from Uzbekistan, but who has travelled the world as an artist, and has his oil paintings, he says, in several galleries all over Europe. It turns out he has a very good friend in Bristol who has invited him to England, but he's never been. He gives us his email address, and asks us to contact him, so that we can see his paintings on line – and he can give us his Bristol friend's address.

We've exchanged email addresses with quite a few people since we began our travels. Whether we will get in touch I don't know … perhaps it's just one of those things that seems like a good idea at the time.