A train ride took me from Bukhara to Samarkand – from the train station, a taxi ride to my hostel where my roommate was a jolly Aussie guy who spoke fluent Russian due to family heritage. (Was definitely great to be out and about with him as he chatted up the Russian-speaking elderly Uzbek taxi drivers.)
Madrasas, mosques, mausoleums, and mystique – Samarkand is full of them, and I spent several days checking them out. The most famous of them all is of course, the Registan. And while I mentioned that seeing these majolica mosaic-filled structures starting to get old, the Registan still commanded a level of awe due to its size and intricacy of its décor. To be fair though, this beauty was due to a lot of restoration – if one googles “old photos Registan”, one would see how decrepit they were up until the early 20th century. I suppose I was appreciating the restoration work done (humans are amazing when they apply themselves correctly) and the idea of what it was supposed to be more than anything.
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In these parts of the world, the name “Amir Timur” (or “Tamerlane”) is revered – basically Uzbekistan’s own fearsome version of Genghis Khan. He did his conqueror/ruler thing for a while and you see a lot of statues of him around – but I especially wanted to visit his final resting spot (as well as some other famous/infamous Uzbek rulers over the centuries) at Gur-E-Amir Mausoleum.
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