Wednesday, 23 September 2026

 

Start: Silk Road Hotel in Kokand (UZ) 14:30

Arrival: Silk Road Hotel in Kokand (UZ) 19:00

 

Total: 2 km walking

 

 

At dawn the next morning, it was clear that I was not better. For the first time, I was seriously worrying how my sister would be getting back home without me. What had I gotten her into! "Call a doctor, please", I begged her. The first time in five decades that I was asking for medical assistance on the road.

 

In less than 10 minutes, a paramedic arrived. He checked my pulse and blood pressure. 77 beats per minute, 100/70. "You are fine." I was definitely not fine! Mere minutes ago, I had been worried that he would force me into an Uzbek hospital, now I was shocked to hear he intended to do nothing at all. The doctor explained something in great detail to the hotel employee who had come up to translate. Sonia and I waited with bated breath. After a few minutes, the employee translated: "He says, you are ok." "I can't keep food down, I can barely stand, I'm so weak I'm shaking. This has been going on for six days now." The employee translated my words. The doctor repeated: "100/70 is fine." "Maybe some medication to help me, some electrolytes?" I asked, desperate. The paramedic nodded, said something more in Uzbek and made his exit.

 

Sonia was furious. "So as long as your blood pressure is not too low or too high, it's ok to have food poisoning or yellow skin, you're fine? What kind of a quack is he?" Ten minutes later, the hotel employee arrived with a sort of Uzbek Gatorade which he'd bought for us at the pharmacy next door. Sonia paid him and asked for the paramedic's bill as well. The young man was surprised: "It's free. City hospital." Wow, so in Uzbekistan an urgent house call was entirely for free, even for foreigners?

 

The ORSA concoction was actually quite disgusting. I took a couple of sips from the salty watery solution every few minutes, ruminating about the paramedic's reasoning. I was weak and exhausted, but physically fine. Basically, he'd said: "Pull yourself together." Sonia looked out the window. "There's a tiny old lady hobbling across the street. Lugging a huge bag. She's a lot worse off than us." And she probably was. I sat up in bed. "Let's go down for breakfast." Sonia's eyes lit up. "Seriously? Wait, I'll help you get dressed."

 

 

We slowly made our way down to the breakfast room. I sat down and whispered: "A chocolate muffin. Watermelon. Milk. No coffee." Sonia went to fetch us the food. When she came back, she looked worried. "They know it's your birthday. There's a surprise for you. Just look alive, they seem so eager." I steeled myself, just in time for the guard of honour to arrive: four waiters, beaming at me, the video played Happy Birthday wishes and they presented me with three beautiful white chrysanthemums. I was moved to tears. After reading countless birthday wishes on the breakfast room screen and hearing Happy Birthday music playing for five minutes, I said to Sonia: I think I'd like a coffee now. And we took a picture of me, 54 and alive. :)

 

 

Back in our room, I set my phone for 3 pm. "We'll go out then, no matter how I feel." Half an hour before the alarm, I was ready to brave the world. Sonia took another picture of my beautiful flowers. Then we called a YandexGo and in just three minutes, the cab deposited us at the entrance to the Khudayar Khan Park.

 

 

The park was a delight. Tiled walkways, gulleys with gently flowing water, grass, trees, birds. A haven of peace and quiet, the trees shaded you from the afternoon sun, the water and leaves provided a welcome breeze. A true Persian garden. In the Persian language, such a place is called "paridaeza", and that's where the word paradise comes from. Luckily, there were benches everywhere, so I could pace myself. Two minutes walk, five minutes rest. No hurry. After all, it was my birthday.

 

 

When we reached the entrance ramp to the Khudayar Khan Palace, I was ready to pose for another pic. Enchanting blue tiles, turquoise domes and Arabic calligraphy - we'd made it to the fabled Silk Road.

 

Other than a group of German tourists, we had the palace almost to ourselves. A series of interlocking courtyards lead to about two dozen rooms that can be visited. The throne room was impressive. White and blue tiles framed the throne all the way up to the brightly painted wood ceiling. The atmosphere was sumptuous, solemn. I imagined the khan sitting on his throne, welcoming foreign visitors to his realm.

 

 

The palace is not a building from the Middle Ages, as I had originally thought. It was build by Khudayar Khan in the mid 19th century, when the Khanate of Kokand had reached its zenith. Back then, the Turkic khans of Kokand ruled over the entire Fergana Valley and their culture, which was mostly Persian, produced beautiful books and handicraft, which were on display in the next rooms.

 

In fact, the palace served as the splendid backdrop for a history of the khanate. Each room explained a new facet of the local culture: from prehistory and the medieval flourishing as a major transit hub on the Silk Road through to the times of Khudayar Khan. It was the perfect museum to pace yourself: learn something new about one aspect of their culture, admire the dozen exhibits, head back out into the courtyard for another break.

 

 

Pomegranates hung ripe on the trees in the yard, the chatter of mynah birds (they truly were everywhere in Central Asia) the only thing breaking the silence.

 

The last rooms detailed the fall of Kokand, its incorporation into the Russian Empire and life in the 20th century. There were pictures of the local football teams from the 1930s, photographs and costumes of actresses from the 1950s and even snapshots of the present-day descendants of Khudayar Khan.

 

 

When we left the palace, the sun was low enough to be pleasant. We strolled through the rest of the park, which seemed to be a favourite spot for the locals too. Teenage girls drinking at the water fountain, families picnicking, people just sitting in the shade, enjoying the evening breeze. The palace and park truly deserve their reputation as the pearl of Kokand.

 

 

"We should have come here yesterday", I said to Sonia. "It would have been better than just sitting in our room, feeling sorry for myself." But this way, I got to spend my birthday in paradise. What more can one ask for.

 

At the far end of the park, a kiosk was selling burgers and coke. Welcome to Central Asia. Actually, there was a local touch to the coke. Can you spot it in the picture below?

 

 

I could have sat here forever, but we were getting hungry and I longed for another chicken broth from our wonderful hotel restaurant. Unfortunately, we had not bought a SIM card yet, so we needed a wifi connection to call a cab. We could of course have asked a local to just give us a hotspot, but for some reason we thought it more opportune to head across the street to a café called Muffins. Just 50 meters down the road, and there it should be, according to the map.

 

 

So like Adam and Eve, we left paradise, and found ourselves back in the land of Nod. A noisy avenue, surrounded by yet another construction site. Cement, dust, rubble. We climbed over half-finished pavement, wandering around with no clue where to go. "I can't", I whined, but of course I could. You always can, if the only other option is none. We walked around a closed-down building and on the other side, we found the Muffin Café! I had honestly not held out any hope for it. We ordered a coffee, asked for wifi, called a cab, got back to the hotel and had dinner in the garden. I could have spent this day on the Uzbek-Tajik border. Instead, I had seen one of the best places on this trip so far. Wasn't life a blast.