The Golden Road to Samarkand

Leaving Tashkent bound for Samarkand. Woken by minor birds clattering on my window sill with their ungainly gait. The melodic sound a curious contrast with their bold persona. Swallows were already up swooping, dipping and calling to the morning. There was fresh pomegranate this morning and bowls of magenta peonies in bowls in the lobby.

So we leave. I have wanted to go to Samarkand since 1973 when I sat eating juicy fall melons in the shade by the ribbed dome mosque in Herat. It was firmly under the USSR wing then and difficult to visit. I was told that the only other ribbed dome mosque in the world was at Samarkand about 30 miles away. Today I can visit Samarkand, Herat is no longer the peaceful Afghan city of my memory. (I am not sure that these are the only two ribbed domes, but it fired my wanderlust and imagination anyway)

So we leave shady Tashkent. Follow James Elroy Flecker who wrote the Golden Road to Samarkand. I am full of anticipation. I hope it does not disappoint.