A flat mosque (no domes, any one been noticing a lot of domes?) with old old wood from elms. The columns smell spicy and like a wooden beach shack in the salt and sun.
Domes.
A knitting madrassa (tell me that is not a sampler on that tower)
One of the symbols of eternity.
A boy trying to sell us postcards. He took me to see his friend who had an SD card, got me to put it in his camera and take another photo of him.
Domes.
Minaret (are they all starting to look same same to anyone else?)
We are sitting on one of those bed/table things at the Hotel Kheyvak. They have good food and excellent wifi. I thought I was managing the heat, but it is four in the afternoon and the temperature is still going up. I am struggling. For all that, life seems too good to endure. (to borrow a phrase from F. Spencer Chapman, I have been reading his Lhasa: The Holy City and Helvellyn to Himalaya)
I found a rumour on the internet that there is a hotel with an ATM here in Khiva, so I am going to go try my luck. After that, all I need is trucksnacks and I am ready for the drive into Turkmenistan. The internet may be limited in Turkmenistan, but Iran has streams of internet running from its lakes of pomegranate turkish delight alongside rivers of honeyed bakalava and pistachio icecream.
I met and fell in love with a carpet today, but I don't have $2,500 to exchange for its indigo and silver glory and nobody is interested in buying one of my kidneys. They are good kidneys. It is a good carpet.
1 comment:
I don't think a carpet, no matter how glorious, is worth one of your kidneys. I am sure they are very fine kidneys, however.
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