All the pomegranates you could ever need
Shared taxis are a very popular mode of transport and as a train looks well-nigh impossible from Khiva we decide to take one to our next stop – Bukhara. Things start well, we are picked up at 8.30 and speed down the dead straight road to Urgench for 9am.
Then everything stops – the driver needs 4 passengers before its worth his while so we wait….and wait…and wait. There are plenty of other drivers there too who would like a fare today but our guy already has us so that’s half a carload and that puts him in a favourable position.
Just as I imagine their ancient equivalents, the camel drivers of the Silk Route did, they display plenty of jostling for position, shouting, squaring up, and gesticulation, but unlike them, they are constantly on the mobile. Whenever a potential passenger appears they circle like hungry wolves – Bukhoro? Bukhoro?
Finally an old lady turns up – after some haggling, her bags are whisked into the boot and now there are three of us. No matter how much she complains, this taxi won’t go without another passenger so she’s off for a bowl of tea. People turn up with parcels to be delivered in Bukhara, money changes hands, phone calls are made, but still no more passengers appear. A couple of the smaller parcels are probably cash. The largest note available in Uzbekistan is 1,000 som (about 26p.) which means that carrying a reasonable amount of money around involves a holdall. No wonder they prefer dollars!
The view from our taxi
At last – after an hour and a half – there’s a phone call. Someone is waiting at the next town down the road and taxi driver is now eager to be off, so old lady has to be hauled out from the chai shop. Now we are suddenly racing at top speed out of town and past fields of wheat, apple trees but mostly cotton plants which will be ready to pick in a month or so. Cotton is huge here and everyone, including school kids, has to get out there and pick it. It’s water for cotton which has reduced the Aral Sea (between Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan) to a tiny trickle of its former self.
Our first obstacle is the Amu Darya river (called the Oxus in olden times apparently) which is huge but must have been absolutely enormous once. There is a super new bridge being built but in the meantime we have to drive onto pontoons and bump along on the dried up river bed.
We pick up the final passenger – an old chap in typical Uzbek head gear but problem… he can’t possibly get in the back seat between two ladies – he might touch a bosom (this is acted out by taxi driver) so Jim has to get in the back between us (presumably a foreigner doesn’t count)
Never mind the state of the road: just remember - it's the Silk Route!
We’re going as fast as we can and there’s some pretty spectacular driving going on to overtake the procession of huge lorries. But it’s slow going what with the police road checks and the braking, swerving and weaving that has to be done to avoid the enormous pot holes and the cracked up road surface. But hey! We’re on the silk route.
After 5 hours, we emerge hobbling and stiff for a chai stop and old lady plies me with food – dipping great chunks of bread into her extremely greasy soup and not taking “No” for an answer! Before she gets back into the car, she pulls a couple of embroideries out of her bag. There was me wondering if I’d made a mistake not buying embroideries in Khiva, especially the one with pomegranates on, and here are embroidered pomegranates galore!
Diane and Istat with one of her embroideries
So she’s an embroiderer and seems to be taking a pile of her work to Bokhara – possibly to sell? Although her accent is pretty impenetrable, we understand enough for her to get the idea we might be interested, so when we stop for petrol, the whole bag full comes in. So there we are squeezed into the back of a taxi trying to look through her stock of suzanis large and small. We agree a price for three and after we’ve counted out all the notes, she throws in another one – were we a bit generous? As we get near to Bukhara, she rummages around in her purse, pulls out her teeth, puts them in and gives me a big grin. She’s one happy old lady.
“How much did you give?” asks our taxi driver after we drop her off. “Hmm very expensive” he says. “Yes well, you’ve never tried buying a suzani in Khiva mate!” I mutter to Jim.
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