Khiva - desert outpost

Khiva itself is amazing. It lies in the Khorezm oasis of the Kara-Kum Desert and was the capital of the Khivan Khanate, ruled over by a branch of the Astrakhans (a Genghisid dynasty) from 1592 until the Bolshevik take-over in 1920. Nobody seems to know exactly how old this ancient city is, although it was first recorded by Arabic travellers in the 10th century. The story goes that Khiva was founded by none other than Shem, the son of Noah (of “and the Ark” fame). At the very least, the city dates back to the 7th century, and probably much earlier. Despite its seemingly romantic history as a Silk Road oasis, the city became most notable as Central Asia’s biggest slave trade centre.

Khiva is split into two parts. The outer town, called Dichan Kala, was formerly protected by a wall with 11 gates. The inner town, or Itchen Kala, is encircled by brick walls, whose foundations are believed to have been laid in the 10th century. The crenellated walls seen today date back to the late 17th century and reach 10 metres. Although quite touristy in the centre, just outside the city walls you are back in the world of butchers with VERY fresh meat (the legs with hooves attached stacked up) and anything under the sun - all being sold by local Tajik women with penciled in mono brows (a great sign of beauty) and a full set of gold teeth.

One thing that struck me was the traditional local craft of wood carving. All the doors and pillars in the city – from the ancient crumbling ones guarding the entrance to a shed, to the brand new doors at the renovated hotel, are intricately carved in a filigree style using Islamic images that are incredibly detailed. Absolutely beautiful and showing an exceptionally high degree of skill passed down through hundreds of generations and still being practiced today.

The B&B we stayed at was a typical mud brick courtyard house and hidden down a back alley within the city walls. In order to find it; from the town centre you walk past the camel (known as Micha and tied under a tree for the ubiquitous photo calls), turn left at the goats, right at the bath in the street, left at the wash basin in the alleyway and straight past the bedstead with children climbing all over it – and its at the end of the road….But if anyone moves any of those objects we’d have been stuffed!

It was run by a young Uzbek chap called Mohammed who told us of his quest to learn English, which he has to do using 3 dictionaries, translating everything from English to Russian to Uzbek, as he can’t find an English/Uzbek dictionary. At least he’s determined. Mohammed was about 19, a gangly youth with features suggesting an ancient romp with members of the Golden Hoard. He was very open and accepting, explaining that he had failed the exams for entry to university and was likely to have to go off to military service (not a barrel of laughs in Uzbekistan). In the meantime, he was running the B&B for an uncle and clearly took pride in this responsibility. Daily, he produced enormous breakfasts for us, ignorant of their unusual composition… We got used to cake for breakfast (rather tasty) and tons of green tea, but were rather perplexed by the instance of cold oven chips and rice pudding….

We also met a new random at the B&B, a nice Russian chap called Sergei from San Francisco and who gave us a few tips of places to eat and where to see the sun go down over the old city walls. He liked the ubiquitous plastic slippers so much that he arranged to buy a pair from Mohammed and wore them as much as possible. Mohammed was slightly confused, and probably considering the potential for exporting shiny plastic slippers to California.

Just wandering around Khiva was great fun. It is a compact citadel of masjids, minarets, madrassas and maqbaras (tombs). A child of the desert, its bones are bleached by the sun and scoured by the sand; but surrounding you are blue and green iridescent tiles and Arabic script surrounding towers and set into the buildings. They stand out in the arid desert with the sand coloured structures and reflect the starling blue of the sky and the lush green of the oasis. In such a hot environment they are strangely cooling and bring harmony to a place that was the wild west of Central Asia.

Khiva is also a bit of an eccentric shopper’s paradise. There are stands throughout selling wonderful woolly hats – made from tightly curled Astrakhan wool (the fleeces of newly born lambs from Astrakhan on the Caspian Sea) that look like round afros. Seem too daft to be real – but we are assured they are actually worn in the winter and have seen photos to prove it. We also ventured outside into the locals’ bazaar to have a look around and found the equivalent of Saville Row (but outdoors, with suits proudly displayed all over the front of the stall) and all sorts of household goods. There were far fewer tourists here than in the city but everyone was very welcoming, although they did tend to laugh at us. When The Aussie and I misunderstood the price of water and gave the stall holders too much money they laughed and insisted on giving us the money back – you wouldn’t get that everywhere. The women dress according to Islamic tradition, not showing the shape of their bodies and covering their hair, but in quite a relaxed way. Married women seem to wear a loose headscarf and all ages wear tunics with coordinating harem pants underneath, finished off with very fetching plastic slippers (worn with socks of course!). These tunics can be very colourful and vary from leopard print (not just found in the Middle East!) to a zig zag stripe of all sorts of purples, greens, yellows and cream that bleed into one another along the edges of the colours.

We also found the equivalent of the local department store, housed in the dome that was once used for the slave market. You can still see the recesses in the walls where the slaves were chained up for inspection – the most valuable being healthy Russians captured from the Russian frontier by local tribesmen. If you ever want to furnish a house in the worst possible taste – this is the place to go: gaudy chandeliers, melamine furniture, vast and awful wardrobes, not to mention the displays of simply appalling wedding dresses. Somehow I worry that when The Aussie gets her own place she will be decorating it Khiva-style.

This blend of old and new is complemented by the ancient mosques and medrassas. However the atmosphere is somewhat diminished but the lack of the call to prayer, which is banned in Uzbekistan. So many mosques, many of the used, but lacking something….like having churches at home with no church bells ringing out – it felt odd and a bit disrespectful.

One night we had a meal at another B&B (hidden in the family’s back room as they had a party next door ) – good food, if unidentifiable and tons of delicious almonds that I was gorging on. Walking back was rather magical as most people had gone home and you couldn’t see any signs of modern life in the dark. The long echoing passages and tall intimidating mud brick buildings gave us some idea of what the place was like in its hey day and enabled our imaginations to run riot about what a colourful, if dangerous place it once was.