potatoes and pomegranates

I had two objectives today: escape the tourist bubble that surrounds central Bukhara, and also find out when I can catch the mini bus or shared taxi to Gijduvan. After four hours of wandering this morning, I still don't know how to get go Gijduvan, but I've watched Bukhara as it comes to life for the day.

Children on their way to school and adults to work were dodging puddles and mud slicks from yesterday's rain.

 The numbered minibuses waited at their accustomed places and vendors began what appears to me to be a tedious daily task of setting out their wares-so much is sold on the sidewalk or in a big open marketplace, it requires a lot of schlepping morning and night.

There are not a lot of buses in Uzbekistan, outside Tashkent. Most public transit is via either minibuses or shared taxis. This means you first have to know where the vans and cars gather for a particular destination. Once a car or van is full, it departs. You are guaranteed close personal contact for the duration of the ride.

I came across a sprawling bazaar (bozor), and shopped unsuccessfully for some clothes. Huge bolts of fabric were stacked or piled, bejeweled and riotously colored, half mannequins sported half an outfit, or sometimes none at all, but none had a head.

Apples, pomegranates and potatoes are in season, grapes and melons petering out. Meat hangs on hooks, soft cheese is stirred and restirred in buckets, and bricks of cheese and tubes of salami-like meats sit out. One area had honey vendors with comb still on the frame, bees who were harvesting, and tubs of what looked like creamed honey, some with the detritus from an extraction, beeswax, and of course containers of honey, including re-used plastic water and soda bottles.  Nothing much goes to waste.

I bought some samsa (similar to a samosa), nan, the ubiquitous round bread that you see everywhere, including on the back of a bicycle. A vendor sold me bananas-she laughed that I wanted only three.

I passed these drinks, and wanted to try them, but given my stomach issues yesterday, I refrained. You buy your drink, and consume it standing there. There are no plastic cups, plates or forks and spoons in use here.

I found myself at an outdoor table at midday, listening to the noon prayer and sermon(?) from a mosque.  It is Friday, the holy day for Islam.  While roughly 95% of Uzbeks would identify themselves as Muslim, very few are actively observant, a lot like many Americans would say they are Christian but do not attend church or observe other rituals.  For whatever reason, the mosque has a mystique for most tourists and travelers, and I am not immune.