Qarshi and Shahrisabz

'Excuse me, check out', it squeaks repeatedly through the Navigator Inn in Urgench on Friday morning (12/27/2019). It's about nine o'clock and apparently time to get up. It seems we have to take care of our own breakfast. So a short time later we start the day with buttered bread, cheese, and jam. Then I spin a curl with Rango and while the Dicke enjoys some chicken afterwards, we start Schrotti. After our stuff has found its way into the Moskvich, we hit the road again. The long journey back to Tashkent is ahead of us. Our visas for Turkmenistan are waiting for us here and we want to celebrate New Year's Eve in the city if possible. Until then, we have some time and a trip to Qarshi should be possible. However, first we have to cross the wide desolate country that stretches from here to Bukhara. For this, we treat ourselves to a few liters of gas and some motor oil, and shortly afterwards there is nothing but sand and dry bushes on both sides of the road. After two hours, we stop for a cup of instant coffee and some cookies. Then we continue until we reach Gazli, where we fill up our gas tank again and visit our tire mechanics from the journey here. When we finally reach Bukhara, it is already dark. We stroll through the new town, with me leading Rango on a leash. I seem to have misplaced his leash this morning in Urgench. Stupid. For dinner, we visit a small pub and treat ourselves to some Plov. It's a world away from the delicacies that were served to us in Ferghana. Then we drive to a large park in the north of the city, Marcus hides his tent in the greenery, and I set up the back seat for the night. I'm almost asleep when I get another visitor. Somehow, Schrotti seems to have caught the attention of a police patrol. After my personal details have been checked, I am advised to move with the help of a telephone translation. I should follow the guys, they want to show me a better place. For the sake of simplicity, I refrain from telling the police officers that I don't have a driver's license with me and that my driver is camping somewhere in the bushes. So we drive for about a kilometer and a half until I can park Schrotti. The parking lot is brightly lit, under video surveillance, and located right next to a busy road. The guys haven't quite grasped the concept of a 'quiet place' and probably don't sleep in the car very often. After Rango has turned away the first curious passers-by, I manage to get some sleep here overnight despite everything.

I had informed Marcus about my move in the evening, so the man is waiting with all his belongings at the edge of the park at nine o'clock on Saturday morning when I arrive with Schrotti. He seems to have caused a stir among some gardeners in the morning, but otherwise had a quiet night. After we have had a small breakfast, we set off once again to the historic old town of Bukhara. During our first visit, I had met an artist who creates small drawings with Nescafé on handmade paper. I liked them and they have the right format to reach home by letter. After finding the gallery and then a post office, we can continue towards Qarshi. When we arrive there, we stroll along the streets and climb a hill with a monument to World War II, which offers a good panoramic view of the city. According to Wikipedia, the city is already over 2000 years old, but it does not have any evidence of ancient times. However, there are apparently some archaeological sites in the surrounding area. Then we set off on a long search for 'real' coffee, but in the end we have to settle for the instant solution again. In the café, I strike up a conversation with the supposed owner, who seems to know a lot about Uzbek history. He recommends a detour to Shahrisabz, the birthplace of Amir Temur. It's not a big detour, so we set off in the evening. Schrotti is causing a few problems again. The light doesn't work as it should. But I can install a pair of jumper wires and enable the upcoming night drive. Near the village of Qatag'on, we find an acceptable place for the night at the edge of a field and set up camp.

During the night to Sunday, December 29, 2019, we are undisturbed and can sleep undisturbed until late morning. During breakfast, we watch a local man redirecting water to his fields using a few sandbags. We strike up a conversation and invite the man for tea. I was able to repair my gasoline stove the day before. Then we drive to Shahrisabz and stroll through the extensive Amur Temir Park in sunny weather. The city doesn't have much more to offer, so we relax for a good hour in the afternoon on the terrace of a café with instant coffee and some cookies. Finally, in the late afternoon, we drive a little further towards Tashkent. In the evening, we reach Samarkand, buy a few things, and look for a quiet spot on the banks of the Zarafshon River for the night. While Marcus sets up his tent, I take care of dinner. In the meantime, we are visited by a few uniformed men. It remains unclear how they found us here, but in any case, we are asked to move. The place is not safe. Too many wolves, jackals, and hooligans!? The whole thing remains a mystery. After Marcus has packed up his tent again and we have had dinner, we move on. When we finally find another suitable place near the Karaultepinskoy Reservoir, it is already past midnight. Nevertheless, we sit by the fire for a while before going to bed. Our yurt pole has to be sacrificed and keeps us warm for another 2 hours.