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. Although I was in bed by 10.30 the previous night I slept well and promised myself that I would rise early and get into Khiva central early and hopefully see the sun rise.
I suppose the rising sun would be more apt as after exiting the hotel and meeting this lovely old man the only people up and about were Japanese tourists and the street cleaners.
The streets are immaculate all through the day and just about on every turn was a small posse of sweepers with their little area of responsibility. Hunched over their little plaited brushes they sweep rhythmically forward gathering just about nothing but dust. Even the children as young as 9 or 10 are augmenting their parents’ income by helping and thorough they are too. I now understand that this they complete before going to school.
Now back to the old man. I saw him yesterday praising Allah and wishing us well with his left hand on his chest. This time he caught me unaware as I came round the Mausoleum. He grabbed my right hand and shook it and held it as he said a few words through his toothless grin. His face was of someone who hard either toiled hard in the sun or some other exposure. He was no more than 5’ 2” with a stoop at his shoulders. The skull cap he wore was dusty and stained and he wore a loose robe over a couple of other layers. I thanked him and he moved into a pray position with both palms open upward and began to recite something from the Koran. Again faultless like the gents we met at Bukhara he completed this by again shaking my hand. I went tot my pocket and pulled from the wad the first note I could find. The 500 cum pleased him immensely and he smiled, said something regarding Allah and kissed my hand. It really was a beautiful moment as I felt I was being blessed.
It was this old man I think that made the ‘sun rise’ for me as the sun rose in the east the orange light set across the monuments was a sight to be seen. Between the shadows it penetrated all the open areas and slowly as if fighting with the shadows of evil it began to overcome all of them. The Ark was hit by the orange and whilst taking in the glow I could see the groups of Japanese up on the watch tower. It was still only about 6.30. People were slowly entering the city now through the great gates. The bathhouse wasn’t open but three elderly dusty old men sat outside looking like they needed it to open quickly. The camel was still tethered in its post behind the Tourist Information Office. Slowly chewing away at nothing but leaving an odorous pong. The town was almost alive by the time I got back to shower and breakfast at the Lolita.
Our bus is on its way on time and heading for the forts that are the other side of the Amadarya river. This bus is slightly smaller and exits Khiva and its gates with no bother. There is a driver and a mate on board as well as our local guide and Anwar. Not sure of the purpose for having a driver’s mate on board as so far we have not had that option on any of the other trips and this is just around 300 cum a trip.
The river is in front and a bridge does not exist, instead a huge pontoon spans the river in sections joined at each corner and anchored either on land or in the water. The issue we have to face is that the river is so low that the section from land to the pontoon looks almost 45º which based on our axle distances the bus is going to bottom out. The driver up to this point has been making frantic calls on a mobile or walkie talkie. It just has rather a strange aerial.
We depart the bus with driver and guides to view this obstacle which will either slow us up or stop us in our tracks.
This is some sort of Michael Palin event that happens to him. “We are stuck with a number of options, either wait for the river to rise which is asking a chance as the next tide in full flood is in July. Back up and head to the next crossing which is 100kms downstream back to one of the dam crossings which would mean we would miss our connection; no seriously we would just miss the sites. Or the last option is for the gradient to be reduced which I suggested as an option using some of the piled timbers. Well it seems that the theory is correct as we are now waiting for a truck with soil to lower the gradient.
Meanwhile we have all gone walkabout on the spits between the old boats that are grounded and those still floating but I cannot say whether they should.
It seems that one of the men squatting on a boat has been roped into assist and thinks he may be selling some ballast out of the first pontoon. This it seems is enough to suffice an attempt by the coach to descend the gradient. Edging forward the front wheels are clear and the body of the bus looks like it will just clear. As the bus reaches the base and levels out the rear of the bus, the tail bar touches the ramp and there is a huge jarring scraping noise. This is resolved by the driver’s mate placing wooden blocks under the rear wheels and as the bus goes over these the tail bar clears. That seems all OK, we just have to get off at the end. We all walk across the pontoon and discover the gradient is too severe and we are waiting for ballast to reduce this. Whilst we waited back at the start, before the attempt a truck has been organised with soil which arrives after about half an hour. The guys on the truck put reeds and small cut trees at the base of the ramp and then start shovelling earth on top. This is going to take some time so I head up to where Marcus has gone, to discover him sipping tea with the police at the river crossing. Only he can find tea in any spot. So join him for tea happily smiling with the police only to be awoken by the sound of sirens as a police car, police bus pass through heading for the bridge which they are desperately attempting to repair. The police now jump to attention almost dropping tea around us as they don their strange hat and all salute. Immediately the vehicles had passed they sat back down to complete their tea.
The coach is up and all intact with a few sweaty people. Anwar and the driver’s mate following the lumps of wood. It seems we have probably lost an hour on quite a tight schedule but advised that all is in order and we will make up the time.
The first stop is an impressive fortification built around the 1st Century as a string of forts by the Sorastrons. Then that believed in four elements or even worshipped. Earth, water, fire and one other that slipped by. These fortifications are impressive and although a small element has been restored it is to ascertain exactly how they lived. We are now clambering over the ruins probably assisting in the ruination gain. This great monumental structure has been challenging time for 2 thousand years and yet stills the outlines of the bastions, towers and streets as well as the rooms are visible. Niches carved in the walls are erasable and these hold paintings and carvings of the time of these people. It is a wondrous and powerful relic. Here you can now see the other forts spread across this desert.
The second fort lies east and this is to where we head whilst lunch is prepared from the picnic that Anwar has brought, we head off on foot through the fields and along and over canals. The dirty water is apparently clear and the wide fast flowing canal is dirty. This is as clear as some of the seas in the Pacific and is visible to its depths of twenty feet. The water flows fast and few people could cope with the speed and would be in difficulty quickly but more importantly, it came off the rice fields where it remained months so has become stagnant and is the breeding ground of millions of mosquitoes and midges.
The walk takes us through barren rice fields with no crops and instead wirey camel grass grows. Fine if you have thick trousers but muggings removed the lower parts of his trousers to turn them into shorts and now the weeds, camel grass that is with its barbarous edges and whipping action is almost lacerating the legs. Oh well that’s life. It is smaller than the other fort but has a noticeable flat floor with huge dips in which turn out where the roof has collapsed into the apartments below. Some are still visible with the brick arches that have managed to support the roof. Here you can see into but know that this was the living quarters of the soldiers based in here. Food and eating are part of the pattern of the day with structured stops and food all round – now I am tiring of this and have started to ignore the meat dish and stick to the soup and salads. From here we now head off to another fort which we will need to be away from and on our return leg in haste if we are to meet the schedule. The bridge weights heavy on my mind that this could delay us again.
In the distance a ridge of mountains can be seen, only small but the road and distance probably deceives the eye. Now I can see the fort on a mound set forward off the main mountain but this is not our destination because as we skirt this widely the makings of a structure can be seen on the ridge of these mountains. This track is designed for 4 x 4 yet the bus ploughs on over the dried out streams and avoiding the potholes.
Upon the ridge to the left are four Yurts used for Camel trekking and for periods in the desert. Monstrous proportions are these fortifications with the huge remnants of the battlements still standing with arches below. The centre of the fort is almost flat and resembles a school boy’s fort. The centre must be 100 square metres. From up here we can see the more recent fortification built by the Arabs and the canals and a large lowland fort for cattle and crops. The towers exist as an extension of your imagination although the remains of one stands whereupon you can see in all directions to the horizons. This made an excellent watch tower for spotting raiding parties and armies.
Back on the bus Sergei the driver has his foot down and although we get off and walk the pontoon, he is across before us. Either the water has risen or the repairs have continued.
After a quick check out it is off to the airport and once again avoiding the wretched children and their woven socks. The whole hotel staff has come out to wish us off. I do not know why but creating a good impression with Anwar is probably key to them as he and Asia Travel have not used this hotel before. At the end of a long day I settle into a hot bath in the Le Meridien Hotel appreciating the clean towels and sheets. Not that Lolita was filthy but a tad worn and not well washed is my opinion. Little Lolita should spend more time cleaning rather than waving and flirting with the tourists.