“Wherever you go becomes a part of you, somehow.”  
~ Anita Desai

The first nine days of September were spent chasing dust bunnies hiding in dark corners, cleaning out the fridge/freezer, and opening up drawer space for my quinta sitter. In preparation for Michael’s visit in October, I had to also place orders so that deliveries could be done once I returned from my trip to Uzbekistan, which I started planning in January, but dreamed about visiting for much longer.

Now, back on the quinta, I find myself in that liminal space between travelling and reintegrating myself into my normal routines and life. I am grateful that the cats are happy to have me back. That the birdsong sounds extra cheerful. That autumn weather has set in with the first tentative rain. That the silence is soothing to my senses which were often overwhelmed during my three weeks of constant movement.

It was one of the most amazing journeys I’ve ever been on. Not just because of the incredible architecture, landscapes, and deeply layered history, but also the many wonderful encounters with both locals and fellow travellers. The countless interactions and impressions will take a while to absorb into my soul, but that is part of the process of visiting far flung places and cultures that I love almost as much as the actual journey itself.

It is a country in which tourists are still being treated as honoured guests, and I pray that the big groups and rude individuals won’t ruin it too soon. In Khiva, when arriving 10 minutes early at one site, I was beckoned in with a smile to where the workers were finishing their breakfast. My ticket was checked, and a chunk of bread pressed into my hand. The young Uzbek guide, who confessed that hugging in his culture is only reserved for family members, didn’t hesitate to give me another big hug when I bumped into him a day after our tour.

In Samarkand, when the young barista found out that I was from South Africa, not only were Yvonne Chaka Chaka’s Umbogoti soon drifting out into the early morning light, but he insisted I share their breakfast, and was thus introduced to bogirsak (a deep-fried bread reminding me of South African vetkoek), eating it ‘Russian style’ with him and a friend.

I was accosted by wrinkled old ladies with golden smiles, as well as young university students for selfies and photos, and my asalaam aleikum was always returned with a smile or a hand on the heart on my early morning walks through sleepy neighbourhoods, where old men gathered in clumps after their early morning prayers, women briskly walked home with fresh produce bought at the market, or cats accosted me to play or curl up on my lap.

As always for me, it will be the people who will stay in my heart and memory much longer than the thrill of exquisite buildings and landscapes.

If you are curious as to what I saw, here is whittled down compilation of the 4000 photos I took in slide show form. (As I no longer blog about my travels this is the only glimpse you will get.)

One of life’s little surprises was the amazing Light Show at Registan Square in Samarkand. They have various options they rotate, and the one evening I decided to venture out to see what it was like, charmed me enough to motivate me to buy a ticket for my last night in Samarkand to go inside the square, instead of viewing it from the outside. Wandering around the buildings all lit up was completely different from visiting during the day, and when it was time for the light show, I decided to film a bit of it, but boy oh boy was I in for a surprise. If you have roughly 20 minutes, and can stomach the fact that my camera was hand held and I was looking at the show instead of staring at the little screen of my camera (which is why it doesn’t stay level all the time), click on the link below to experience something, I thought was amazing. (The first two minutes are the worst, but the quality is surpringly good overall, which is why I am sharing it.)

Registan Square Samarkand Light Show