The Emir's B&B

To look at a distance on a map versus actually traversing that space is quite humbling. We assume by our US sensibilities that traveling 1,500 miles should take about 24 hours of determined driving or 30 hours by Amtrak. But of course Aktau to Bukhara is not I-95 nor the Northeast Corridor. It has roads from the age of Marco Polo and Soviet-era tracks. It took 72 hours of determined shared taxi driving (4-5 people crammed into a Korean-made "machina") over roads that sometimes disappeared into craters and lumbering, sitting, lumbering, sitting...KAZ trains (in the desert). 

This is how people move in this part of the world. No one is comfortable. No one is relaxed. But if there is beauty in this shared experience, it is born from the kinship and genuine affection that is formed with the people around you. Communicating only by experimental Slovak/Russian, hand gestures, context, and your eyes, you can still all laugh, eat together, learn about each other's families and jobs, and look out for each other. 

When it was time to depart, we were surprised by the hugs, long handshakes, and hand over the heart waves we exchanged. 

Now we are in Bukhara! The legendary Silk Road oasis. We are staying at a bed & breakfast that used to be one of the Emir's homes in the 18th and 19th centuries. We arrived at 1 AM excited and in awe. 

Below is the courtyard garden. 

Aziz, the B&B manager gave us a tour of the Emir's dining room. The small height of the door is to remind people and especially the Emir that any greatness you achieve can never match the awesomeness of Allah so you must always be humble and bow to Allah (or suffer a blow to the head!). 

Below: the view at breakfast where I am writing. Bread, honey , beef salami, salty cheese, hard- boiled egg, grapes and Nescafé with cinnamon-spiced milk. A group of French tourists share petite dejune.