Samarkand

• We were up early to catch our 8 am train to Samarkand. As it turned out, we had time aplenty at the Tashkent rail station to stare through the windows and scrutinize our unusual transport:
  

  

  Developed in Spain, the Afrosiyob is capable of speeds over 150 mph and, in theory, could get us to Samarkand in two hours. For no apparent reason, though, the trip took considerably longer as the train crawled along at 25 mph for quite a stretch. On the plus side, that enabled me to take a decent photo of the passing scene:
  

  

  This part of Uzbekistan might be a stand-in for the early American west, complete with bison look-alikes.
  
  Eventually, our locomotive rested at the Samarkand rail station:
  

  

  Except for the unexpectedly long ride, the trip had been a comfortable and pleasing experience.
  
  After hotel check-in and lunch, our new guide and driver began our tour. First stop was the mausoleum of Amir Temur:

  

  The mausoleum was intended for Temur’s beloved grandson and heir-apparent who died suddenly in 1403. However, two years later, Temur himself was dead at 69 years of age. At the time, he was leading a 200,000 man army against China during a winter that turned out to be the coldest on record. In time, he was succeeded by another grandson, Ulugbek, who completed the mausoleum and effectively turned it into a family burial site.
  
  

  

  The entrance archway above, framing Patty and Jennifer, is ornamented with a peculiar style found in Islamic architecture:
  

  

  This pendentive decoration goes by several names, most commonly “honeycomb work” or “stalactite work.”
  
  Inside, we studied the visage of this man named Temur in an artist’s rendition:

  

  His name is also spelled Timur or given as Tamerlane. For the most part, he is unknown in the western world compared with, say, Genghis Khan, who lived two centuries earlier.
  
  Nevertheless, Temur shook the world of his time with his conquests. A brilliant strategist, his boundless ambition drove him to plunder and sack cities throughout central and western Asia, from as far south as Delhi to as far north as Moscow. Samarkand, his imperial capital, grew spectacularly wealthy from the spoils of war and the work of his slave-artisans. Temur went beyond simply creating an empire, for he was sadistic, cruel, ferocious and barbaric. His horrifying exploits left an estimated 17 million people dead during his 40-year trail of destruction!
  
  Standing inside the mausoleum and checking out the interior from top to bottom, you would see richly decorated surfaces, enveloping the crypts below:
  

  

  

  

  These are the crypts of Temur, two sons of his, two grandsons, two unnamed children and his favorite teacher. Temur’s tomb is the dark one made of jade. One of the two grandsons was the heir-apparent whose early death initiated construction of the mausoleum. The other was Ulugbek who ruled Samarkand after Temur but was more interested in astronomy than in governing. Eventually, that would lead to his downfall.
  
  Before taking leave of this remarkable mausoleum, we walked around to the back for a closer view of its fluted dome:
  

  

  
  The mausoleum, it turned out, was just a warm-up. The main attraction in Samarkand was next on our agenda. As far as man-made structures are concerned, this attraction presents one of the most spectacular scenes anywhere:
  

  

  This is the Registan, composed of three magnificent and gigantic structures. They were completed, from left to right, in 1420, 1660 and 1636. All three were madrassas or religious colleges.
  
  By good fortune, we were able to stand at this stunning viewpoint not just in the afternoon but again the next morning. The sun brightened parts that were in total shade the day before ...
  

  

  ... and even illuminated some foreigners:
  

  

  
  Considering the three structures in their chronological order, the one on the left is called the Ulugbek Madrassa after the ruler who ordered it built. Fittingly so, because his love for mathematics, astronomy, medicine and theology drove him towards all things educational.
  

  

  The madrassa housed at least 100 students under the tutelage of the finest scholars of the day in both Islamic and secular sciences. It is said that the ruler lectured here personally on astronomy, his greatest passion.
  
  Not surprisingly, the splendid building we see today, nearly six hundred years old, has had substantial help in surviving to this age and looking this good. The photo below, taken in the 1920s, speaks volumes as to its then dilapitated state:
  

  

  
  Similar photos of all three madrassas depict leaning towers, domes with gaping holes, crumbling facades ravaged by time, wind and centuries of neglect. In the 1920s, the first attempts at stabilization were made, namely, straightening leaning towers before they fell. Beginning in the mid-1960s, restoration accelerated and continues today. Much of the effort was funded and directed by the Soviet Union prior to 1991. The motivation must have been to create more income from tourism, a very long-range goal. The impressive nature of these monuments was recognizable even in their ruined state.
  
  More than 200 years after the Ulugbek Madrassa was built, another was constructed facing it. The Shir Dor Madrassa was a match in size and beauty:
  

  

  In a break with the Islamic taboo on figurative art, its facade bears a stylized representation of animal life:
  

  

  The name, Shir Dor, means “lion-bearing.” During restoration, the inscription in the rectangular box above the figures was so eroded it could not be deciphered. Hence, it remains blank.
  
  The next two photos really capture the stupendous size of this madrassa:
  

  

  

  
  We were able to enter a room under the dome on the building’s left side to admire its ornamentation:
  

  

  That room is shown here in an Internet photo:

  

  Due to many workers in the room, we could not have stood where that picture was taken nor would my camera have encompassed that scene.
  
  Below are two photos of this madrassa in the 1920s. The animal figures on the facade are barely discernible:
  

  

  

  
  The middle madrassa, Tillya-Kari, was completed a scant 24 years after the second:
  

  

  To enclose the square with pleasing harmony, the architects made this madrassa considerably wider than the other two.
  

  

  
  Today, none of these buildings are used for their original purpose. If there is a mosque still open and functioning, we did not see it. Many of the former student cells are now souvenir shops. Regardless, the restored buildings are vivid reminders that people in central Asia were capable of erecting enormous and beautiful structures, even centuries ago.
  
  Before leaving the Registan, we must comment on the “street sweepers”:
  

  

  Mostly older women, this army of workers seemed to be everywhere. If the clean streets and monuments are because of them (and we believe that is largely the case), they are very effective.
  
  After the Registan, anything would be anti-climactic. However, we had a fascinating spot to visit next that really peaked my interest, the ruins of Ulugbek’s astronomical observatory. To really appreciate it, a bit of background on this Mirzo Ulugbek would help.
  
  

  

  Like Temur, his name is spelled various ways, including Ulughbek and Ulug Beg. More importantly, for nearly 50 years after his grandfather’s death, he ruled a Samarkand that continued to blossom, developing a reputation for learning and culture.
  
  After completion of his madrassa in Samarkand (and others elsewhere), Ulugbek ordered an astronomical observatory built. Finished in 1429, it contained the largest sextant in the East, a circular arc with a radius of 118 ft, spanning 90 degrees. Most of it was below ground but the upper end reached to the top of his three-story observatory. Its scale ensured unparalleled accuracy and made Samarkand the stargazing capital of the 15th century. It was his crowning achievement and his path to disaster. The model below is believed to represent the observatory:
  

  

  
  With his circle of experts, Ulugbek plotted the coordinates of 1,018 stars, devised rules for predicting eclipses, measured the sidereal year to within one minute of modern calculations and determined the Earth’s axial tilt as 23.52 degrees (which remained the most accurate measurement for hundreds of years). All of this was done without optical instruments. In mathematics, he wrote accurate trigonometric tables of sine and tangent values correct to at least eight decimal places.
  
  Sadly, Ulugbek’s scientific expertise was not matched by his skills in governance. In fact, he spent as little time as possible in public affairs, preferring instead his beloved astronomy. He made several tactical errors, militarily and politically, antagonized the clergy by implying that science would outlast religion and gained the adamant opposition of radical clerics. He was seen as a weak and ineffective ruler (which he probably was). On a pilgrimage to Mecca in 1449 to make amends for his “errors,” he was assassinated on the order of a sharia court.
  
  In the immediate aftermath, all of his observatory above ground was destroyed. All evidence of its location was obliterated and the population forbidden to mention his name.
  
  The whereabouts of the former observatory lay wrapped in mystery for centuries. It took a persistent, fully-committed, Russian archaeologist named Vyatkin years of painstaking research before he found it in 1908. Today, the hill in Samarkand on which the observatory stood is attractively landscaped, there is a small observatory museum and a statue of Ulugbek. The only relic of the observatory that remains is the underground portion of the giant sextant:
  

  

  
  All of Ulugbek’s work was not lost, however, despite the extreme measures taken by his opponents. His closest colleague managed to escape Samarkand with Ulugbek’s star catalogue and bring it to Europe where, after translation, it created a sensation. Consequently, Ulugbek is now well-appreciated in his homeland and in the circles of astronomical history, ranking on an equal footing with Copernicus, Galileo and Ptolemy. In the museum is this tribute by the current President of Uzbekistan:
  

  

  
  Our last stop with our guide was a necropolis named Shah-I-Zinda, difficult to appreciate with only this one late-afternoon shot:
  

  

  The necropolis consists of a row of mausoleums lining a corridor up the hill. Each is different; all are colorful; most are from the 14th and 15th century. The Internet photo below is added because it shows the corridor along with a few of the mausoleums.
  

  

  It was obviously taken at a different time of day.