Samarkand

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When we woke up, we came up with a plan. Ruben was going to stay in the city and take care of some things for us there. Book train tickets. Check out some local souvenirs. That sort of thing.

I took a cab back to Bulungur and met up with the family who had stored the Caboose:

The police had apparently called them a bunch of times, asking questions about us. I didn’t stay for tea. No need to attract any more attention.

So I said thank you and good-bye and got back on the road:

Rain, I thought, great!

Passed a monument:

Passed a broom:

Passed a large assembly facility for German trucks:

It seemed as though the whole town depended on this:

And then I was in Samarkand:

At first, it was just a bunch of roofs and the silhouette of a mosque in the distance:

Then it was this canal:

Then a Jewish cemetery:

The Caboose and I walked down a quiet road that penetrated deep into the city:

And then, after a hill, we saw it:

I even asked some cops if this was the Registan:

“Sure,” they said, “Registan, Registan.”

And they waved at me from the base of the building they were apparently guarding:

So I walked up to this giant ensemble of ancient buildings, and as I got closer I almost totally lost my mind:

I was so excited.

The Registan, I thought, the Registan!

But I was wrong.

This video explains how I found out once again that I am indeed an idiot:

I found the real Registan eventually:

And oh my fucking god:

It was so beautiful…

Here’s what a happy idiot looks like:

Ruben came over and joined me for some pictures:

And then we walked the rest of the way to the hotel.

It wasn’t far.

Well.

Actually.

Nothing.

Was.

Far.

Anymore.



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