My first full day in Samarkand began when I woke up to the call to prayer at 5:30am. I was eager to get out and explore the city that I’d waited so long to see.
I rushed down to the hotel’s breakfast room, which decorated with beautiful examples of Khan Atlas fabric shot through with gold threads.
Immediately after breakfast, I set out on my own for a walk in the vicinity of the hotel. I soon came to a traffic circle where I found a statue of Temur (aka Tamerlane) standing regally in the center, overseeing the steady stream of cars.
Despite Temur’s well-deserved reputation for savagery (slaughtering entire populations of cities he conquered; dreaming up novel ways of executing his enemies; piling up mountains of human skulls to deter resistance), the people of Samarkand seem to consider him something of a hometown hero. During my time in the city, I learned quite a bit more about Temur and was able to view him a more nuanced manner.
Temur was born near Samarkand in 1336. The city had become part of Genghis Khan’s Mongol Empire in 1220, when the legendary leader of nomad tribes conquered the city. He and his army totally destroyed all traces of Samarkand’s ancient history which went back to the 7th century BCE. By the 14th century, Genghis Khan’s vast Mongol Empire had split into four khanates, each ruled by one of his descendants.
Temur, who was a member of a Turco-Mongol clan, had grand ambitions of his own. He wrested control of Samarkand from the Mongols in 1366 and set out on a series of conquests that rivaled those of Genghis Khan in both brilliance and brutality. Since tradition reserved the title of Khan for direct descendants of Genghis Khan, Temur took the title of Emir (sometimes spelled Amir).
He made Samarkand his capital and during his reign, it became an important cultural and scientific center.
Temur’s quest for more territory never ended. He died while marching with his army to wage war on China in 1405. Samarkand remained under control of his various descendants until it was conquered by the Uzbeks in 1500. Today it is Uzbekistan’s second largest city, with a population of over 600,000 people.
Samarkand is a popular destination for tourists because it contains a wealth of architectural treasures. Both Persian and Indian influences can be seen in its many mosques, madrassas, and mausoleums. Nowhere is this more apparent than at Registan Square, which is often called the heart of Samarkand. Registan means “sandy square” in Persian. For countless centuries, this location served as the city’s main trading area, complete with a caravanserai that provided lodging for merchants and their camels traveling on the Silk Road.
Three grand madrassas, all inactive today, dominate the square. At one time, they were institutions of higher learning that provided instruction to students from across the Islamic world in the three main languages of the region: Persian, Arabic, and Turkish. Batir asked us to look carefully at the towers. He pointed out that they tilt outwards, so that if they fell, they would not crush the buildings.
Each madrassa is really a complex of buildings rather than a single structure. The Ulugh-Beg Madrassa, which stands on the left side of the square, is the oldest of the three. Founded by Ulugh-Beg, a grandson of Temur, it dates back to 1420. Ulugh-Beg ruled the Timurid empire from 1447 to 1449. He was more renowned, however, as a scientist and made important contributions to the study of astronomy. Star-like elements are featured on the majolica tilework above the entrance.
Batir explained that the geometric designs that decorate the façade and the towers is not purely ornamental. The designs are actually words from the Koran written in stylized Kufic script. In the interior of the madrassa, we visited a tilemakers workshop and saw a tile with the name of Mohammed.
I admired the gorgeous tilework that covered surfaces throughout the complex. The brilliant blues and greens dazzled against the cloudless sky.
In the courtyard, we chatted with a couple of Uzbek visitors and checked out the sundial.
There was no time for shopping but I peeked into many handicraft shops that were tucked into alcoves.
The two other madrassas were built in the 17th century, about two hundred years after the construction of the Ulugh-Beg Madrassa. The Sher-Dor Madrassa on the right of the square faces the Ulugh-Beg Madrassa. Its name means “lion” in Persian. Batir pointed out the distinctive tile work above the entrance which depicts two lions (yes, they look a bit like tigers) chasing deer. There are also images of suns, a reference to the pre-Islamic Zoroastrian religion, combined with Mongol-like faces.
Similar motifs were repeated in the beautiful courtyard where we found the shop of a musician and instrument maker. The shop was filled with an array of unfamiliar stringed instruments, flutes, and drums.
The center building, the Tillya-Kari Madrassa, was completed in 1660.
From its interior courtyard, you enter a gorgeous blue and gold mosque with a flat trompe-l’oeil ceiling that appears to be a dome.
We broke up the morning of sightseeing with a stop for tea and cake at the Bibi-Khanum Tea House, located in a former caravanserai.
Once again, I looked longingly at shops displaying their colorful scarves and gowns when we strolled down the long avenue near the tea house.
Next, we visited the Bibi-Khanum Mosque, which is within walking distance of Registan Square. With a capacity of 10,000 worshippers, it is the largest mosque in Central Asia. Its construction began in 1398. The design of the mosque was inspired by the Taj Mahal and much of the material used in its construction was imported from India. According to legend, the building project was directed by one of Temur’s wives who wanted to surprise the ruler when he returned from his military campaign in India. Construction was rushed, resulting in structural problems that were never corrected. Restoration work has been going on since the 1970s.
The dome is particularly beautiful.
We had to do a lot of walking through a park-like area with the sun beating down at midday. Fortunately, I was able to hitch a ride with a group of local ladies.
After a lunch break, our bus brought us to the Ulugh-Beg observatory. This was where Ulugh-Beg conducted his research until he was murdered by his son (!) in 1449. Not much remains of the original round building but we were able to peer down into a long, angled shaft that was part of the structure. I really regret not understanding more about how this worked.
In the museum on the site, we saw a model of the original observatory building and I learned that Ulugh-Beg invited the astrolabe, an instrument used for celestial navigation.
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| A 17th century astrolabe |
After a visit to the observatory, our long day of discovery continued with a bus ride to the Shah-i Zinda necropolis, which was located next to the entrance to the Jewish cemetery. There has been a Jewish community in Samarkand for centuries. Although it is much reduced in size nowadays, at one time it numbered several thousand. When I got home, I did a little research and learned that the first Jews probably were artisans, carpet weavers, silk dyers and merchants from Kurdistan and northern Syria who were brought to Samarkand after Temur conquered their cities.
Shah-i Zinda is a memorial complex built primarily in the 14th-15th centuries. The mausoleums are known for their dazzling Timurid-era tile work. Among those interred here are relatives of Temur, famous scholars, and military commanders. According to legend, a 12th century shrine contains the grave of Qusam ibn-Abbas, a cousin of the prophet Mohammed, who brought Islam to Central Asia in the 7th century.
In addition to looking at Samarkand’s historical sites, we ventured into the countryside outside the city to get a look at rural life. We arrived in the village of Ohalik on a sunny Saturday morning. Agriculture is the major economic activity in this area. The people who live here have cows, goats, gardens, and orchards. They heat their homes with coal, wood, or cow pies. Propane is used for cooking. Nearby mountains provide good spring water. Many of the local women work in large poultry farms which produce eggs for export while the men usually work abroad and send money home. We spent most of our time hiking up into the hills.
One of the highlights of our time in Samarkand was home-hosted dinner. The family we visited was fairly well off, as evidenced by their spacious complex that housed three generations of the family.
Before we left Samarkand, we finally had some free time for shopping. I’ve always loved Persian and Mughal miniature paintings and I was delighted that to discover that this art is still alive in Uzbekistan. At a painter’s workshop, I watched the next generation at work and purchased a small painting of a pomegranate tree, known as “the tree of life.”
It will be a beautiful reminder of my visit to Samarkand.
