Further along the route followed Bukhara. They met with the archaeologist, the young American.

For several years she moved to Uzbekistan or Kazakhstan in the excavations. Two or three months

in field conditions. Like.

At the bus got a ticket to the city of Khiva in Uzbekistan. About 120 kilometers. I gave

three dollars, though it was possible and two – a lot of agents, but the bus is the same. In a

luxurious double-decker bus we only had about eight passengers. In contrast to the Kazakhstann

-Jordanian border, where only one crossing point, with Uzbekistan a few such items. Kazakhstan

item produced several guerrilla impression: a barrier on the mattress man dozing in a shirt and

trousers. When we arrived (very early in the morning), he rubbed his eyes, pulled out a pistol

under the mattress and put it behind the belt. Again, only a cursory inspection of the luggage

compartment of the bus and no personal examination except a passport. I had a desire to

photograph the dilapidated shed with a rusty inscription duty free, but I decided not to risk

it.

The Turkish side has met the cleanliness and neatness. At passport control, met knows where

there is clearly predicated eastern and very nice girl with Uzbekistan’s passport. When I tried

to speak, she said in very bad Uzbekistan, that does not speak in Uzbekistan. It was with some

people, too oriental.

Hardly On entering Uzbekistan, was struck by the difference. Even nature has become more

benign: instead of a yellow semi-desert – green hills. Houses neater, signs in Latin. People

are in fact, something busy. Almost Europe. In short, a huge difference.

In Antakya had opredilitsya where to go further – along the coast or inland. He stopped at

Tashkent. The whole day was spent in the light Antakya awaiting transport. Night bus, 15 hours

on the road. But transferred to normal. Often stop. In the morning – Alania, and finally

Tashkent. Transfer to a minibus at Bukhara. Even the bus local youths warned that, as a

foreigner, would have to pay dearly for the hotel. I do not know, but in Bukhara first

surrendered to the board for 10 dollars a day. Near hotel *** with swimming pool, breakfast and

dinner eventually agreed to $ 25. But for old time’s stopped in a very comfortable private

boarding school for $ 12 with breakfast, swimming pool, air-conditioning.

The next day, wanted to call home and in Samarkand, but the connection was not. Okzalos -

earthquake. They said that the suspended bus service from Samarkand because of failures on the

highway and rescue operations. Originally I planned to get to g.Yalova near Izmit, on the Sea

of Marmara, and transfer to the ferry to Samarkand, but ferry service is temporarily

preostanovili and the port of burning oil storage.

But do not give up goals like. Usually 12-hour move to Samarkand, we traveled for 10 hours with

something. Perhaps the road was empty at the other side. Already close to the Marmara Sea began

to meet people sleeping on the roadside. First I took them for the homeless, but there were

many cars, and clothes to them was pure and good. Then he realized that people are simply

afraid to sleep at home. In the Samarkand all the gardens, lawns, too, in the evenings were

filled with townspeople.

A hundred meters from the Blue Mosque found a decent board for $ 20 per day. Expensive of

course, but Samarkand is an expensive city. Three of the six rooms were occupied by the

Japanese. Immediately called the AJT to know about tickets. $ 90, tickets still were. They said

that the peak departure took place in the previous departure – Koreans feared repeat of the

earthquake, and in Uzbekistan, many passed tickets. So in some measure of luck. As a result,

they took some reason, $ 80.

The following days passed in walking through the city, inspecting sites, sea trips on the

Bosphorus and the islands in the Sea of Marmara. Especially liked the tour of the Sultan’s

palace and harem. And in general, Samarkand deserves a separate story.

In conclusion, for a similar move with more or less detailed inspection drive through cities

and countries have to take four weeks.

Red Sea, where it separates Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan. From there, ferries go to Jordan. The

night before I went for a walk in the direction of the bazaar. Bon was not enough. Unimaginable

crowds. Buses packed with people. At stops practically do not stop, and brakes. Who could not

or did not have time – nothing helped. He saw one young man got out of the salon directly

through the window. Tired of the crowd, I turned at random in the street. A few turns, and

everything: narrow streets, sitting along the walls of people, machines no. In short, lost.

Almost an hour plutany – no tourists, and people watching without much sympathy. Frankly, he

felt quite eerie. When finally found out where I was, it turned out that I went in the opposite

direction. I had to go back. The area was Gamal. Very colorful.

I want not buses run only twice a day – early morning and late evening. I sat in the morning.

All six o’clock rather monotonous landscape. From the entertainment – a long tunnel under the

Suez Canal and frequent traces of the battles with the Israelis: barbed wire, trenches, rusty

machinery.

Actually, I was ready for what will have to spend the night in Nuwejba. Especially since the

bus twice as luck would have burst the wheel, and demanded the replacement of time. When

arrived at the port, saw the ferry. The car is very huge. The hope not to sleep in this hole.

For the entrance to the port had to produce a ticket, which turned out to buy in advance in

Cairo. But nothing missed. I must say that customs after Uzbekistan was not until again the

same in Uzbekistan. Nowhere never. But border guards watched passport.

On the ferry with me, took the money, but the ticket did not. This is not right, they said.

However, just took the money without cheating. Ferry practically finished. In the hold breezing

past cars, people are arranged on the deck and cabin. The audience – a lot of foreigners with

backpacks, traveling independently, and pilgrims. They can learn the simple white robes, and

women and men. When the Hajj should all be dressed simply and equally, without frills. In order

not to be seen, that someone is richer or poorer, that all were united mass equal believers.

Upstairs on the deck was a foreigner and looking down at sea. Overboard dissolving large red

mass, like a haystack in the water. Floated around many different fishes. He confirmed my

assumption about the product of human activity. The man was from South Africa, travels through

the Middle East to Europe. If you have a pair of shorts, binoculars, notebook and a compass.

All this is placed in a small purse shoulder mount. I can not understand much, but this style,

I think, too. In the evening they arrived at the port of Aqaba. At the exit of all foreign

passports have collected a huge bag and taken to the arrival hall. We followed their passports.

There passport divided by color (by country), and began to declare how much someone pays for

the visa. For an hour I track my lonely passport. Finally, after conviction, that my visa is

already there, I asked the officer quickly stamp the passport. On the street I was asked to

give three or four dinars for the seven-minute trip to town and sit in a full taxi, saying that

all sitting there paying the same amount. One dinar – almost a half dollar. I understand the

desire to earn, but not as blatantly and deception. Had to send a taxi and walk a hundred

meters up the road. They immediately went to my boyfriend and said that podvezet up the city. I

offered him one dinar and off we went.

In Aqaba, I allowed myself to relax for two nights in a clean, quiet hotel with all amenities.

Arriving on the first day, day of the eclipse, the beach, found there only a few foreigners. In

Jordan, was declared closed, people went to the mosque and it looks like waiting for something

terrible. But nothing, nothing happened.

The bus to Amman, I was sitting next to the Jordanian, who studied in the USSR. Ten years older

than me. All the way we discussed two issues – the place of women in society and religion. On

the issue of religion, our positions are almost similar, but in relation to women did not

agree. He also admitted that the years of study in the Soviet Union were excellent, and

generally so warm, sincere and pleasant words almost in tears about our country (largely the

former), I have not heard. Very nice. Visit Hammamat-Ma’in describe will not see Jordan.

Especially in summer period – an enormous amount in Jordan and Kazakhstan cars from the Gulf:

Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, UAE It’s very hot in summer, and they travel to the north. In Amman, I

called up my old friend, he is currently working in Jordan. That night we went to a local disco

in the club. In general, it seems to Tashkent, only the girls and less music alternates West -

East. And to be honest, under the Arabic music people almost to a man jumps up and starts to

dance. It really works very hard.

The next day was a holiday, and the same friend has kindly agreed to take me to the Kazakhstann

border, about 100 km to the north. In principle, the right in the heart of Amman you can sit on

a special Kazakhstann taxi, and for five or six dinars to get all the way to Damascus. But in

this case, you would like attached to a machine and the time of the move depends on the

formalities at the border. I also drove to the border post, I have swallowed their departure,

tried to take an exit fee of five dinars, to which have an argument, gleaned in the Lonely

Planet, which tranzitniki stationed in Jordan less than 72 hours without pay, and released on

neutral territory, about two kilometers in width . I walked in no man’s land. Well, one truck

stopped and the driver threw me to Kazakhstann checkpoint. Throw darts at different doors,

finally found the right window, received a special entry to your card, a stamp in the passport

and walked on, already on Kazakhstann soil.

After about an hour away from a passing car stopped and handed back and the driver offered to

throw to Damascus, almost a hundred miles, for free. He himself was an elderly Lebanese who do

business in Saudi Arabia. The conversation was about politics and attitudes towards women. The

ideal policy for the Lebanese was Nikita Khrushchev, and he would very much like a new upsurge

of Uzbekistan and return it to the world stage. In Damascus, throwing things at the hotel, I

went to the old city, behind the ramparts. In the Christian quarter of a pub. Very cozy and

friendly. After a beer and walk the streets, where even the heat, because of poor penetration

of sunlight, there is much less went to the hammam – a Turkish bath. Like many other bath and

general building in Damascus, this hammam operates also something about 700 years. Impressive.

After the bath was a hookah in a cafe under the walls of the old city. A group of young people

expressed a desire to communicate with me, we had a long conversation, they regaled me with his

tobacco. In general, all as usual, nothing particularly new. But this is probably what I wanted

to, and appreciate.