More notes on Samarkand

ruined caravanserai between Bukhara and Samarkand

Our second night in Samarkand, we visited the workshop of a clothing designer for a showing of her traditional costumes amidst a graceful dance performed by 5 women who work for her.  We had dinner in her beautiful garden afterwards, a balmy night after a scorching day.  Good food, decent wine, beautiful ambience.  She has created a small paradise in the midst of the city, quiet and peaceful.

Valentina's showroom

 Valentina is a woman of about 55.  She lost her daughter at age 25 when she was struck by a car crossing Samarkand’s main thoroughfare.  Her son lives in Samarkand, with his wife and daughter.  Valentina’s daughter also had a daughter, so she has 2 grandchildren.  When her daughter died, she dove into her work to try to get through the tragedy.  I don’t know if that has influenced the incredible vibrancy of her colors and designs, but they are so beautiful.  Though her sadness is clear, it seems that she has also embraced the women who work with her and is very proud of them.

Valentina's costume front

Valentina's costume back

 Earlier in the day, we visited an enormous tomb that Timur had planned for himself.  Lucky for the architects that he died before he saw it finished because it soon collapsed of its own weight.  The dome was way too heavy for the walls to support and the walls themselves couldn’t sustain their own weight.  The government has rebuilt part of the structures, which look to me to be as tall as some of the huge Egyptian temples (like Karnak), but there are very large cracks in the walls that don’t look like they could sustain one of Tashkent’s major earthquakes.

large crack inside Timur's mosque

collapsed rooms of Timur's first tomb

inside Timur's partially collapsed mosque

On the way to Samarkand from Bukhara, we stopped to see the ruins of one of the many caravanserais that served the Silk Road caravans.  They were set up every 40 kilometers because that is how far the camels could go in a day.  These were huge buildings, with courtyards for the animals and niches around the courtyard where merchants could sleep, eat and sell their wares.  I remember reading Isabel Bird’s description of staying in a caravanserai in the late 1800’s which noted that the courtyard was knee deep in manure and mud.  I’m sure these were welcome stopping points, but comfortable, doubtful.  Each one had a large cistern to capture whatever rain and snow runoff there was in the high desert.  Water was then, as now, a life and death issue and in short supply.

caravanserai gate

caravanserai's cistern