night falls in Bukhara

I leave Bukhara tomorrow morning on the train, bound for Tashkent. The end of the Uzbek leg of this journey looms. I went out on an errand at dusk, and then sat drinking coffee at a shop on an outdoor patio that was raised above the courtyard in front. A lone sheep stood tied by a thick rope to a tree below, seeming disoriented or perhaps lonely, if sheep do get lonely? A group of boys played soccer (football here), vendors gradually packed up their wares, and a group of Germans chatted around me.

After dark, which comes so early now, I walked home in the warm night. Once past the turnoff from the shops, it grew very dark, as there are no street lights. The only light came from cracks in the walls or an occasional light over a gate. Fortunately the puddles are mostly dry now. I hated to turn in at my gate, it feels like the end of something.

I'm sipping a beer in the inner courtyard of my hotel on the theory that the internet connection is better here than in my room. Also, as I left earlier, I got caught up in a tour group that was also going out. One of them accosted me, wanting to know where I was from. They are from Denmark, and with my blond hair, she was wondering if I was too. She seemed disappointed to find I am American, but maybe I imagined that. I would be interested to observe the group's recessional if they don't stay out too late.  Little things amuse me.