Buchara, bathing in the past
As the train crosses the steppe, I stare out the window and can imagine the caravans that exchanged valuables and insights between East and West centuries ago. I am on my way to Buchara, an Uzbek city on the Silk Road. An oasis in the middle of the steppe. I am still impressed by the splendour and history of Samarakand, another city here in Uzbekistan. A gem, which Alexander the Great already spoke of with high praise. It is foggy when I arrive in Buchara. The railway station, like the others I have already seen in this country, is a feat of bombastic Soviet architecture. It is still a long way to the city itself. Because when the Russians built the Trans-Caspian railway in 1888, there was so much protest from the local administration that the station was built 10km outside the city. It is misty and grey. Buchara's sand-coloured buildings form some kind of uniform mass, accented by the blue tiles with which the entrance gates of the madrassas and mosques are lined. The histor