Do I want to see Tashkent or do I sleep more? It is just past 8.00 and I decide that as I have read so much about the famous Tashkent Metro I will attempt to use it.

From breakfast I pack and decide to check out remembering to get the hotel registration slip. Today will not be easily forgotten.

The local Iman woke me this morning with the early call to pray. It is quite a melodic muffled sound and sometimes barely audible but at 5.30 in the morning not at lot moves. It is also the call sign for dogs and cockerels to wake and once they start there is no stopping them. Normally I am fast asleep and hear nothing of all this.

I am not sure I can take in any more Madrassahs or Mosques as we have seen just about everyone there is in Uzbekistan. Not entirely true but in 2 weeks I reckon I have been in over a hundred Mosques and Madrassahs. Khiva will be on foot today, no buses or coach or taxis. Founded 6th Century BC by a shepherd who found a spring where the water was so sweet he praised it Khiva (water so sweet) and here starts the tale of much history to the city of Khiva.

We are now well and truly in the Kyzylkum desert. Heading west with our driver who looks part Turkish as he holds his thick bushy moustache on his rugged face. The desert journey is nearly 8 hours and broken by very few events. The passing of a Yurt with camels and sheep and their shepherd in attendance I rather disappointing as the image on celluloid would have made an interesting composure.

The sites were of little interest and even though we went out to see the main Sufi Mosque and Mausoleum they were sadly being renovated by hundreds of builders and it was difficult to get around. The Sumar Palace of the Emir which was built by Tsar Nicholas for the Emir in early 20th Century I found of no interest and really was a waste of time but it all fits the jigsaw that is Bukhara.

For the minute I was introduced to our guide to Bukhara I immediately knew this was to be no easy day. Dark duty complexion, she reminded me of a school headmistress. She carried a few extra pounds and only very slightly she waddled. Later I was to find out that no matter whether she was big or small she cracked a pace when we went on our trip.

Today we are on the road to Bukhara away from the 3* proclaiming 4* hotel in Samarkand by 8 a.m. Sergei joins us for the last part of Shakhrisabz the birthplace of Timur or at least the closest city to whence he came from. The land begins to lose its green lushness and becomes sparse with vegetation almost running to a desert. Dotted along the road, which is almost straight, are small villages and keeping on our left are the mountains.

Up early and out of the hotel by 6.30. I passed by the Registan Square and headed towards the bazaar. Yesterday I felt quite satisfied only in the sense that the bazaar was well under way and beginning to close up in some parts.

Now I am here early and people are arriving with trucks, vans, cars, porters with trolleys and donkeys.

Waking at 6.00 I was out of the hotel by 6.30 and within minutes walking up towards Gur Emir Mausoleum that of Timur/Tamerlane whatever you wish to call him. The same Mausoleum I was at yesterday. Today I get the opportunity to visit Rukhabad Mausoleum which has had little renovation but stands proud and brown in this early morning light.

Allah be praised for he has delivered us from a great torment – Elspeth’s luggage is waiting at the airport for us. I am beginning to warm to her. Noticeably the rest of the group are beginning to distance them from her politely, or so it seems. Our group wimp, poor old Guy, has had doctors and nurses out to the hotel, their services costs 17,000 cums ($17.50), cheap and yet he gets a full enema and injections for that.

Guy is really ill as we board the bus to head for the last city in the Ferghana Valley – Kokand. What is really memorable about this day is from the city of Kokan we are transferred to three taxis. I opt for the two ladies and me in the front; me thinks we one the good taxi group competition.

Tim is away with Elspeth to the synagogue early in the morning that Anwar pointed out to them, we have now to start an hour later, pick them up once Bilso has got us. Anna’s compatriot at reception speaks perfect English so to get laundry done is not an issue.

Up at 6 a.m., I thought this was a holiday. Quick shower and I am with the group for breakfast, rather on my own table, as the group have filled the table. Acceptable standard with an omelette I reckon will set me up for the day prior to our departure for 7 a.m. to the airport.

It’s time to fly again and from Terminal 2. It’s only a day ago that I came through Terminal 2 on my way back from Saudi Arabia and I have I just spotted a fellow English traveller on his way to Uzbekistan – me thinks so.

Dry, very dry and almost brown is the South East after quite a hot spell this year.