I am standing on a dusty red dune in the middle of the desert between Samarkand and Bukhara. The desert wind is soft on my skin and everything glows in the light of the nearly full moon. There must be a goat nearby because the is the gentle tonk tonk of a goat bell.
It is a night for whispering secrects. Even the stars are pale and quiet in the wash of moonlight.
I don't know how to walk about Samarkand. It is the first time I have been to a city that has lived up to the romantic ideals I held about it. It was like stepping into a childhood story. I was enchanted, my heart was taken on the first day and part of it will always remain with the turquoise and indigo splendour of Tamerlane's city. On the second day I was as sick as a dog and didn't get out of bed, which put a serious crimp in my souvenir buying, but didn't damp the fire in my heart.
Today was hot and unrelenting. A few of the excessive personalities on this leg got a little much during the day and five of us (including the two drivers) ended up seekng evening refuge on the truck.
There has been no wifi but, when there is, expect to be inundated with blue and symmetry.
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4 comments:
neat
I dream of visiting Samarkand. I was most assuredly with you in spirit.
Oh Mo! I wish you were here.
So much do I wish I were there! And it's not just because I'm writing finals at the moment.
I am trying to think of it as having you scope out all the awesome places first so you will know where to take me.
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