Can the Stans handle the Merck girls?

October 1: Around Samarkand

Ok, so I have had a couple of requests for food shots. The food has been really good. The bread seems always to be homemade and the salads have been amazing. Here’s today’s lunch but will ensure I capture more in future!

Today we travelled in a motorcade of 4 six-seater cars (a bus would not have been able to navigate the roads). We essentially drove over the mountains to get to the other side. Along the way we stopped at an interesting food market.

The white things in baskets are called kurut. These are made from strained sour yoghurt (sometimes mixed with a little salt) that’s shaped and sun-dried until all the moisture is gone. The result is a hard, chalky, tangy product that can last for months — even years — in dry conditions.

And people often suck or nibble on the hard balls, especially during travel or herding (which I’m sure is familiar to all of you!) Or they can be dissolved in hot water to make soups or sauces, or used as a flavouring, or dissolved in water to make a refreshing salty yoghurt drink. (Not being a yoghurt fan, I didn’t like them at all, but Marg and Lisa were impressed)

And here is the view from the top of the mountain, which overlooks a valley traversed by Alexander the Great.

And here’s the remnants of a Russian bus shelter, which looks like it’s having an each-way bet on whether it wants to be Russian or Middle Eastern

Today our destination was Shahrisabz — whose name means “Green City” in Persian. It  is one of Uzbekistan’s oldest and most historic towns, located about 90 km south of Samarkand. It sits just across the mountains from the Zeravshan Valley.

The city is best known as the birthplace of Amir Temur , the one I told you about yesterday (and I am assuming you have all been paying attention). He transformed Shahrisabz into a royal residence and a showcase of his power. It is impossible to convey how big the royal residence was (apart from saying that it took us about 15 minutes to walk its length).

Called the White Palace, it was built by Amir Temur and was once an  enormous, glittering palace with blue and gold mosaics. Only the monumental entrance portal survives today — 38 meters high, decorated with intricate tilework and a Persian inscription reading “If you challenge our power — look at our buildings!” Here I am standing at the front of the surviving entrance, and then a view from the back.

And here’s another view about half way along its length (in the middle they had an Olympic sized pool.)

In order to get World Heritage listing from UNESCO, they had to clean up the place and have built expansive gardens, reflection pools and some strange objects.

And of course, there is a huge statue of Amir Temur

This was where Temur wanted to be buried, but he died in Samarkand and the snow was too thick to get through, so instead they just have his empty crypt.

There were some nice trees to stand under, particularly the one I am standing next to, which is 800 years old!

We were driven to lunch in these extended golf carts, and lunch was in a former caravanserai.

A hairy drive back to Samarkand in our motorcade and tonight we went to view the lights of the Mausoleum and the Registan.