Yurt camp

After three nights in Bukhara, we're all feeling slightly monumented out. It's quite similar to Thailand where you become templed out. Don't get  me wrong, the  monuments are fantastic but there is a common theme of blue tiles and domes.

A quick mention  for Cafe Wishbone, set up last year by a German tourist who visited Bukhara last year and couldn't find a decent latte . So she went back home, so the story goes, sold up, and returned the following summer with a huge chrome coffee machine. I can honestly say she has
cornered the market and  the coffee was delicious!
So we're on the road to Samarkand. Thankfully not such a marathon as our last trip through the desert

The yurt camp turns out to be way better than we feared. We're 4 to a yurt and the only group staying. Mind you it was a close call there are 90 French tourists staying tomorrow!

There's a restaurant block and a toilet block which are relatively permanent, while the yurts are dismantled for winter. After dinner, the staff build a campfire and we gather round while one of the locals digs out his banjo and obliges with a few folk songs. Thankfully he stops soon. Most people retire to bed about 10:30 and it's surprisingly comfortable and warm. Next morning, after breakfast, it's time for the threatened camel ride. Despite vowing never to sit on a camel  ever again, I give in to peer pressure and decide to give Emma a bit of moral support. I can honestly say that 20 minutes is more than enough and whoever suggested a 3 hour trek to the lake must be bonkers. Can I just go on record now to say I am never going on a camel again?

So we drive to the lake and just six of us decide a swim is in order. As usual, it's a bit chilly at first but fine once you take the plunge. After a half hour of this we head back up the beach to dry off. The grumpy staff from the camp have managed to prepare a picnic lunch despite their misery, and it's not bad. God help them tomorrow -- lunch for 90 Frenchies!

Bukhara

So, after a gruelling drive from Khiva, we're in our third Uzbekistan city, Bukhara. The old part of the city isn't so well defined as Khiva because the city walls have gone but there are many old buildings to see around the centre. There are certainly many more tourists here, which is evident when walking around the town and when trying to  book a place for dinner. I haven't managed to figure out why, but it's very popular with both French and German tourists, better marketing perhaps.

Many of the buildings and monuments are in remarkably good condition and whatever restoration has taken place has been done to a high standard. We've seen mausoleums, mosques, minarets and madrasas!  There are many more shopping opportunities here which pleases some members of the group. Thankfully the locals aren't too pushy.

I'm in a different hotel from the others, apparently because I was the last one to book. Apart from the lack of WiFi , it's not  a big deal. So, a short post tonight and  I'm off to try and borrow some bandwidth.

Khiva

I think I drew the short straw but maybe I'll reserve judgement. I was the last one to book this trip and apparently the normal flight across to Khiva was full so they booked me on the early one instead. Then the airline shunted the mid  morning flight to 1pm, so the rest  of  the group won't be here till after 3. So despite a distinct lack of sleep and a 5 am alarm call, I've had a leisurely lunch and a couple of hours soaking up the atmosphere.

It does look stunning and I only hope my photos do  it some justice.

A quick view of Tashkent

To be blunt that's probably all you need. Don't get  me wrong, it's not a bad place but I haven't seen anything that really stands out. We're told that it can be viewed as  the old city and the new city. The trouble with that is that anything really old has long since been flattened in once of the fairly frequent earthquakes. And anything new was built in the Soviet era, or the post Soviet era, so lots of glass and concrete.

If that sounds unduly negative, then to redress the balance leery me day that the impression I'll take away is of a very green city. There are lots of green spaces between the buildings and many trees. What they describe as Independence Square is really Independence Park. We saw it in the heat of the afternoon but it must be a pleasant place to stroll in the evening.

I found the bazaar disappointing. How can so many  stalls selling socks exist so close together?  Or come to that, potatoes? But no open air cafes or coffee shops. This could definitely be the next big opportunity for Costa!

Early start tomorrow, off to Urgench and then Khiva . WiFi permitting, I'll report more tomorrow.

Hotel Uzbekistan

A few photos from a brief walk around the block.

You definitely have to put  "Soviet era" before the hotel name!  Buildings close by are more modern and the park is cool and shaded.

Arriving in Tashkent

Possibly my worst airport arrival experience ever. And let's face it, that's saying something.

The arrivals hall its just totally decrepit and chaotic. The bus from the aircraft drops you at the entrance door then there's just a mad rush for one of the four passport desks. There doesn't seem to be any difference between passport nationalities so I pile  into the scrum  and hope foe the best. It's 4am local time, I haven't slept and I'm not my usual sunny self. Kids start to wail, after half am hour I'm ready to join them. We're inching closer and I'm still going I'm in the right queue - I imagine getting to the counter to be sent back to some unseen "foreigners" line. A Russian woman in shades and a leather coat makes a determined push and elbows me aside. She's talking excitedly to a much smaller, shriveled husband who follows in her wake. I mutter "ignorant cow" fairly safe that no one will comprehend. It is the right queue, I'm through finally and on to phase 2.

By now the luggage is appearing. The belts  are way too small and have a series of sharp corners where the bags either jam until they fall off, or just fall off anyway. My bag isn't on the belt, no teal surprise there, but when no new bags appear, I start to worry. After all, I do have history with lost bags. 30 minutes later I find it, upside down, of the end of the belt and splattered with something horribly sticky. Sigh. Better that than not at all I suppose.

So  to phase 3 of the endurance test - customs. First challenge is rip complete yep copies of the customs form which  is printed in Uzbek only. Go back a stage. First find two clean, blank forms. Obviously these are rationed and they have used today's allocation. After all it is now 5am. Eventually I find once blank and a second with minimal scribble and manage to complete them using the tiny sample glued  to the wall. Towing my sticky suitcase I join one of the scrums for the customs officials. I use that word in the sense of officious. If anyone crosses the red line in front of his desk, he halts the whole process until everyone takes a step back. Not ready to comply when you're being shoved, elbowed and having your ankles assailed by luggage trolleys. The Czech guy alongside me is the first person I've managed to speak to. He has lost his bag but is smiling. Actually he has a fixed grin, kind of demented. There but for the grace. ........ Leather jacket woman approaches from the left side but I'm ready for her little tricks this time. Further top the left someone is yelling at the officials but I ignore it and head for the finish line.

I'm there!  Two minutes, lots of stamps on forms and visas and a friendly "welcome to Uzbekistan".

Only two and a half hours, what could be simpler?

On the way to Tashkent

I've not been through Moscow airport for a while and it's had a makeover. The restaurant used to be like a canteen  with tough looking dinner ladies, serving potatoes and mysterious soup from a cauldron. Now we have Coffee Mania.

I've got a 3 hour  stopover then another 3 hours to Tashkent, should get in about 4 am. Thankfully I have a full day to recover before the others arrive - think I'll need it!

I've made all my plans, as usual, to update my blog. I may well be thwarted by a lack of Wi-Fi. So, watch this space.. .....

Day trip to Frankfurt

Well almost a day trip.
Flew out on Wednesday afternoon, on a mission of mercy to replace some failed equipment. But last minute trips are so much more difficult to arrange, I should know that by now. The only flights which made any sort of sense were a mid afternoon out on Lufthansa, then an evening return next day on Swiss. Via Zurich, but what the heck, only an hour longer. So, book the flight first, then think about a hotel. After all, how hard can that be?
Well, very. There was some sort of convention going on in Frankfurt and not a room to be had. I lie, there were a few at 400 Euros a night which is probably a bit steep for makers of brake pads and wheel nuts. And a bit steep for my boss. So I handed the problem over to someone else with the request "find me a room". After a lot of searching we finally settled on a small B&B in a little village called Bickenbach, which is where our German dealer has their office. About an hour after making the reservation, the agency e-mailed asking for my arrival time. Would I call the hotel and confirm. So I did and spoke to the nice lady on reception. I couldn't figure out why she thought it was such a bad idea to stay at her hotel for my meeting in Frankfurt next morning. Until, after much confusion, I understood that there are at least two Bickenbachs, and this one was three hours drive from Frankfurt. Luckily there was no cancellation fee but it did take an awfully long time on kayak to finally find a room right at the end of the S-Bahn line, 1 hour from the centre.
So, a late arrival Wednesday, early start Thursday and I finally made it home around 11 p.m. But I have sort of got the hang of the S-Bahn now!
At Zurich airport I couldn't help noticing the couple waiting by Gate D38 with two carry on bags each, sacks full of Duty Free, iPads, BlackBerries, expensive coats.......... I thought then, "whoever's on the same row will have a struggle to find space in the overhead locker". And yes, I did. I sat with them in 24 - my bag was in row 12. Just to rub it in, he suggested I might find space for my bag further forwards - thanks mate!

But there was one small consolation on the flight home - the Hawker Siddeley 146. Now that might not mean a lot to you but it was the last civil airliner built on the UK before we gave in and left it to Airbus. We don't make planes any more, just wings and engines. But it was a good note to bow out on, a compact little commuter jet that flies like a jet fighter. I've flown in them many times before but they're becoming rare in Europe now, too old, too thirsty. Most of the remaining ones will end their days in South America, Africa or Indonesia so who knows, maybe I'll get another flight one day.

H H Dalai Lama

So as planned we had an early breakfast and drove down to the temple in lower Dharamsala where the Dalai Lama had been teaching for 3 days. Apparently his timekeeping is idiosyncratic -- it's quite common for a lecturer scheduled for 10 am to be in full swing by 9:15. There's a short of grapevine so that everyone gets notified. So it was by several phone calls and texts that we knew when he would leave the temple / conference centre and had back up the hill to his residence. We bagged a spot by the roadside in front of the temple gate and tried to look inconspicuous! Imagine that........

Leads of Indian security; they recognise him as equivalent to a head of state. After another 15 minutes the lead car appeared, ready to clear a path through the crowd. Next his limo and we had picked the right side of the road because there he was, just three feet away smiling benignly as ever. I was alongside Philippa, who sometimes leads the tour and who knows him. So I think it's perfectly reasonable to say that we both waved and he smiled and waved back.

After that, the rest of the morning was inevitably an anti-climax! We wandered round the complex, Tibetan craft workshops, and the nunnery then finished with a leisurely lunch in the gardens.

Dharamsala

It's Thursday afternoon and we arrived in Dharamsala yesterday afternoon. It was a real wrench to leave the Judge's Court but Jeremy insisted. A fairly leisurely drive with a stop for a picnic lunch at a temple hewn out of solid rock. Now where have I seen that before?

Towards the end of the die we passed through a village where a fair was in full swing. There was the usual fairground rides for the kids, loads of stalls selling sticky treats and the highlight -- wrestling. Yes, men in pants, brawling in the middle of a dirt arena. At first we hung about at the back of the crowd but the chief referee spotted us and insisted that we were his guests and we must come and sit in the grandstand. The women in our group were quickly reclassified as "honorary men" for the next half hour. The wrestling action got progressively more serious as they worked through the qualifying rounds and approached the final. Some serious money was changing hands by this stage and the little four man marching band increased the tempo. It was hard fought with some bone jarring throws and a final body slam which the crowd didn't approve of but the ref decided to allow. So the not so popular winner did a quick lap of honour while we headed back to the bus.

Our hotel accommodation has now returned to the usual Exodus standard. Or possibly that's the Indian standard - doors that don't quite shut, bathroom that floods after a shower, tv remote held together with sticky tape, need I go on!

We're actually staying in McLeod Ganj which is further up the hillside and quite busy and touristy. The streets are narrow and there is lots of traffic buzzing round way too fast.
The region is the centre for Tibetans in exile: there's a library, schools, parliament in exile, museums, monasteries and nunneries, and of course, His Holiness the Dalai Lama. He has been teaching at the nearby Tibetan cultural centre but will be returning to his residence after breakfast on Friday. That's our breakfast, not his - I can't claim any inside knowledge on his breakfast routine. We do plan to try and wait by the roadside as he leaves the temple, watch this space..........

Raj Mahal Palace Hotel, Mandi

Easter Sunday and we're in a small market town called Mandi, en route to Shimla. The hotel really is the former palace of the erstwhile Raj, who is 81 years old and still running the place along with his son. It's delightfully shabby, all faded paintwork, huge dining rooms and hovering waiters. My room is just enormous, a dressing room with a huge tv, a bed which would probably fit four without too much drama and for the first time this week a shower with an actual shower curtain! Shame we're only staying one night......

At the Judge's court

We're staying for two nights at a country house, converted to a boutique style hotel. It's almost like being a house guest for the weekend - and there are more staff than guests.

The judge, Justice Jai Lal was the first Indian to be appointed as such by the personal warrant of King George V, and the framed certificate is hanging by the staircase. The house is still in the family, we believe it's now run as a hotel by his great grandson. Belfast is served nest to the pool alongside the overgrown tennis court, dinner is as at the back of the house on the rather magnificent lawn.

Today has been a very relaxing day: a late start and then a gentle morning walk into the many village to see some of the old houses. Some are well preserved and still lived in, others are in a state of decay but it's still interesting to see the different styles of architecture.

Well it's cocktail time, gin o' clock!

Amritsar

Arrived safely into Amritsar at 1am and after waiting what seemed like an age for my bag, was quite rely relieved to find my driver waiting patiently by the exit holding a little board with my name on it. It was about 20 minutes drive to the guesthouse and I was in bed 10 minutes later!

So I got up at 9 and wandered through the grounds. One of the staff spotted me and ran across to ask if I'd like some breakfast. Fresh fruit cocktail and cheese omelette later, I felt almost  human again!

The rest of the group arrived at lunchtime -- just 6 more, which was much less than I had expected, especially for Easter time. And, surprise, Cathryn from my Ethiopia trip was there! Three of us decided to do an independent trip to see the border retreat ceremony Waggah which is one more thing that Michael Palin did on his travels. What an adventure! Must have been 60,000 people there altogether on both sides of the border. It's quite scary actually reaching the location, you have to park about a mile away and walk with good natured but boisterous crowds to the grandstands. You're frisked 3 times and eventually corralled into a special foreigners enclosure. There's patriotic mystic playing at full blast and cheer leaders whipping the crowd into a frenzy. When the music pauses you can hear the other crowd chanting "Pakistan " from just 50 yards away. Then the soldiers and border guards start to march up and down, doing a short of John Clsese silly walk. After a lot of theatrics the gate is slammed shut for the night.

As if that wasn't enough excitement for one day, we went to the Golden Temple in the evening. Our driver didn't arrive so we found ourselves hurtling through the streets of a Amritsar crammed into a couple of tuk tuks!

Now it's Monday evening and we've had a busy day and a long drive. But hopefully more about that tomorrow.

On the road to India

Starting at Heathrow, or more precisely the Holiday Inn, Slough. Actually it's not as bad as it sounds, provided you stay within the hotel grounds.......
My flight leaves early tomorrow morning so I took the easy option and decided to stay close to the airport tonight. I arrive in Amritsar late Saturday night after an 11 hour f flight via somewhere ending in Stan. I think I'll stay on the plane while they refuel!
I've got two weeks on holiday then a few days on business in Delhi and Mumbai before heading home. The holiday takes in the north India plains and the foothills of the Himalayas. We go to some of the old colonial hill stations, tea plantations and take a ride on one of those toy railways which feature on all the travel documentaries. In the footsteps of Michael Palin!
The top is highly rated and goes off the usual tourist trail, apart from the Taj Mahal which believe it or not will be my third visit!
As ever I'll try to post something whenever I find a WiFi connection; I just don't know how often that might be!