Early in the morning we arrived in Bukhara, an ancient Silk Road city and important hub on this old trade route. The city had a very Persian touch; huge, brick buildings decorated with the recognizable blue mosaics. We stopped at the old huge fortress that overlooked the historical center. To our surprise there was an entry fee, but discounts were open for discussion. We didn't even try as our experience in Iran was the outside of these old buildings are the most impressive, and we contented ourself with this view. We snapped one picture with our community flags and said sorry to the sad looking camel that had to stand still all day for taking pictures with tourists.
Further making our way through the historical center, we met a duo of French cyclers, walking under cover through the streets. They came to us and inquired about our journey, after which they advised us to follow them to their hostel, as this is the cheapest place in town to stay. Some piece of important background information: in Uzbekistan one has to register within three days of arrival, and every three days henceforth. Why, you ask? Well, The government wants to know about your whereabouts during your stay in the country, and the punishment for not doing this is a huge fine of up to 600 dollars. Therefor, we decided to register in an officialy recognized ho(s)tel.
While Oli and Anton were sent from hot naar her in the busy beehive to obtain a local sim card, Stef sneaked, avoiding possible entrancefees, in the main historical buildings towering above the rest of the city and Yuri in turn explored the variety of shops selling all kinds of typical Uzbek handicrafts an souvenirs. After this short break, we followed our newly acquinted French friends towards the hostel costing us a five per night. Oli and Anton put themselves to some cooking, powered up by some typical uzbek Kagor, the local portwine, while Stef and Yuri visited the local knifeshop to find a new blade for Yuri and to sharpen Stef's Zanjan knife. After carefully picking a local souvenir from the many stalls selling local handicrafts, they went back for dinner with their friend cyclers.