Simoon Travel Blog

Libyan street art

Clare — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 14:21:33 +0000

I have been fascinated by much of the new street art and graffiti that has sprung up all over the country showcasing some brilliant artists, and the Libyans wry sense of humour. They joke that throughout the Arab Spring, Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen and Syria have chanted ‘Irhal’ which means ‘Go’ or ‘Leave’ whilst the Libyans have chanted ‘Jainag’ which means ‘We are coming to get you…’

The country used to be covered in green – a reference to the only national flag in the world that was a single block of colour. Gadaffi had it prominently placed at every opportunity – great green blobs of colour together with his portrait on billboards, restaurants, shops, hotels and businesses as a matter of law. The new national flag is now the previous one from the time of King Idris and the colours of red, black and green dominate.

A lot of the artwork, particularly in Tripoli, makes reference to Omar al Muhktar, the legendary Bedouin freedom fighter who fought a fierce resistance against the Italians during their occupation from 1911 until King Idris declared Libya’s independence in 1951.

He rode a horse and hid out in the Green Mountains in Cyrenaica surviving on very little with a ragtag group of followers who outwitted and infuriated the Italians on numerous occasions. Eventually he was captured in the oasis of Kufra in southern Libya and bought back to Benghazi where he was quickly tried and hanged in front of 20,000 people. He instantly became a martyr and was immortalised with his face on every 10 Dinar note. His strength, courage and resistance are qualities that the Libyan people are proud to assert, and his image, often displayed next to a lion has now been resurrected once again.

Not only is there art but also music and this has really made me smile as we drive along with people blaring out new rap about Gadaffi, poignant songs about the martrys, and many simply dancing in the main square. This would never have been allowed previously.

Omar’s stories

Clare — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 11:53:12 +0000

Nuri and I left Misrata on a Friday – the start of the weekend for all Libyans. I didn’t want to leave and he didn’t either for there is so much more to hear, and we had barely scraped the surface. Omar invited me for a typical Libyan breakfast with his wife Fatima and their three children.

We sat outside in the sunshine dipping pancakes into date syrup and drinking cardoman coffee and blood orange juice. Omar and his family have been through so much – you only have to see the extent of the damage that his house has sustained; the exterior is peppered with bullet holes and shrapnel and for the entire time Misrata was under siege, the family lived in utter fear. On one occasion, Omar had rushed outside his home because his eldest son (aged 6) had managed to escape outside to play. They crawled back to the front door on their bellies but not before a shot had been fired that missed his head by inches.

During the most intense periods of bombardment Omar moved his family, his wife’s family and other close relatives to a safer place on the outskirts of the city. There was one room for 18 women and children, with no facilities and the children were not allowed to go outside yet Omar had to leave them to fetch food, sometimes queuing for many hours. And he has some stories…We went for a drive around Misrata one afternoon and he talked whilst we visited many of the worst affected neighbourhoods where buildings had collapsed, a mosques’ minaret had shattered, and the main hospital and clinic left unrecognisable…In fact a journalist friend imagined Misrata to be a cross between Mogadishu and Dresden and it sums it up quite well: Omar and Amelia inspecting war damage to a house, Misrata March 2012. At the start of the insurgency, Gadaffi arrived with lots of tear gas and word got out that the best immediate relief was pouring Pepsi cola into your eyes…So, on a desperate search Omar went to find some in the city but everywhere had sold out. Late that night he and a friend drove to the Albaraka hotel (the one I was staying in which at that time was closed up), and managed to prise open the doors. Knowing Gadaffi’s troops were a stone’s throw away they crept through every room in darkness and took all the Pepsi out of every fridge and filled the back of the car with cans. They then drove to the hospital and deposited them. His office got away fairly lightly; a bomb dropped onto the roof creating a gaping hole where rain soon got in and destroyed most of the office files (‘…but not The Four Seasons one’ he said laughing to me).

Luckily he had managed to hide and bury much of the other valuable office equipment and was able to salvage most of his work. When he wasn’t risking his life for his family and friends on the frontline delivering food and equipment, he spent much of it in Tunisia helping the hospitals with the logistics of compiling notes on the wounded and dead coming in from Libya.

Leptis Magna and Sabratha

Clare — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 19:00:59 +0000

It was a perfect day for Leptis and pulling into the car park nothing seemed any different – in fact it seemed like only yesterday I was there. Only the billboard displaying the martrys who had perished in Khoms stood as testament to their part in the war. We met with some of the guides who were all in high spirits and busy reading through their notes and waiting for people to take around the site…There were very few – one UN vehicle made up the total number of foreigners but otherwise only a few Libyan families who had come for a day out. Nuri and I wandered around the site in glorious sunshine trying to remember the historical facts and figures as we walked and talked.

There has been no damage at all to the site (and a careful extensive investigation by teams of European and Libyan archaeologists has certified this) which is remarkable given the fighting and damage to the town so close by. The museum was still closed – the doors had been welded shut and nothing had been touched. Birds sang and all the spring flowers were out in great patches of yellow and purple. We sat in the theatre contemplating the view out to sea feeling quite smug that we had the site to ourselves. And it was a similar experience at Sabratha – another stunning Roman city that sits on the coast an hour’s drive west of Tripoli.

The town of Sabratha itself had been mostly a Gadaffi stronghold and a lot of his troops had based themselves there; photographs of soldiers equipment, clothing and boots littered the site but have now been cleared. Because of this, no one mounted an attack for fear the site would be damaged and again, the museum door was welded shut and many of the local community distributed some of the most valuable statues and objects around their homes, hiding them in cupboards and under beds etc. Only one bit of damage done to a water fountain outside of the museum has been reported that is already being mended. I went for a swim nearby the temple of Isis at my favourite tiny beach where the sand is white and the sea is crystal clear blue with only a few sheep grazing nearby.

An artist in Misrata

Clare — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 12:24:10 +0000

Nuri and I paid a visit to his uncle Mohammed’s studio late last night and found him at work on one of his paintings. I had met him a few times previously in Tripoli where he had given me a sketch of a sad looking figure pre-Revolution… He is a well known Libyan artist and has exhibited all over the world and since the war his art has become increasingly subversive and he has started to use war material as his chosen medium. I was captivated by a series of sculptures and figures from twisted bullet casings binded together with wire to depict rebels fighting and dancing. I also saw faces he had sculpted from the small aluminium food containers that he used to draw on the wall of his cell whilst he was incarcerated in the infamous Abu Selim prison in Tripoli for 6 months last year.

He was captured along with his brother and both were thrown into prison and made to wear the red suit indicating they were on death row and at any time might be executed. To pass the time he draw on his cell wall and when he was eventually freed by rebels after Tripoli fell, he returned to his family to find two baby twin daughters his wife had given birth to in his absence. You can sense a great freedom of expression in his art now, and I hope include visits to his studio and gallery in Tripoli once they are open again.

Misrata war museum

Clare — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 10:18:28 +0000

I spent most of the morning yesterday being shown around a museum that is devotedly managed by a couple of ex-rebels. The material on display is ever growing as more and more is collected and bought to be showcased. Essentially it is a homage to all those who have fought and died in the war, and what becomes increasingly apparent is the extraordinary courage and bravery of these people who were up against such a formidable foe; these people knew nothing of war. They had never lifted a gun, let alone knew how to use it. They dressed in baseball caps, shorts and sandals and as the war progressed and whilst rocket fire, grenade and shrapnel exploded around them, they laughed, chatted and sang ‘Allah Akbar’ , barely flinching as they continued to move forward pushing the frontline back. Misrata is known for its strong sense of community and in a town of 150,000 people, everyone rallied around and got involved. The women sent hot food to the frontline with little handwritten notes invoking God, and pinning their hopes on their men hero worshipping them and giving them strength. The local pizzeria churned out 6000 pizzas every day for the most dangerous delivery in the world at the height of the war. Hand to hand combat, daring do and unbreakable bonds of kinship threaded the rebels together whom had grown up together and were preparing to die together if needs be. To some extend they were warned by Gadaffi to leave or die, instead families blockaded themselves in and children armed themselves with sticks and knives to protect their families. People turned to their knowledge and skills – blacksmiths and metal workers worked on crafting rocket launchers and home made grenades from bottles and beer cans. Doors became stretchers, pipes were sawed through to become vital scopes stuck with mirrors to see around corners. Shipping containers became hideouts, barriers and blockades. I believe, that to a certain extent, the sheer cunning and ingenuity of the Misratans outwitted many of Gadaffi’s troops where 13,000 of them were dispatched to wipe out Misrata’s ragtag band of about 1000 at the beginning (this grew to 25,000 by the fall of Sirte and includes rebels from the Benghazi and other areas in the west). Everyone was involved in some way, and amongst so many tragic and wasted lives lost shines through an iron will of steely determination that has surprised not only the rest of Libya but themselves as well.

The yard at the front of the museum is right on Tripoli St – the main thoroughfare that was the front line in the war. On both sides of the road are bombed out buildings – residential blocks and shops burnt black with gaping holes and sprayed in bullet holes and shrapnel. The yard has every conceivable method of weaponry ever dreamt up – and used – by the Gadaffi regime against Misrata. There are bullets of every shape and size, from tiny ball bearings that explode on impact to enormous RPG rocket launchers.

Sophisticated radio equipment on the Gadaffi side versus basic walkie talkies from the rebels. Enormous tanks – one of them was discovered with Gadaffi’s mercenaries handcuffed to the interior to keep them focused on their jobs. A speed boat lies on it’s side like a dead fish with large hole in it’s side – evidence of all the mines laid in the port to deter aid and supplies coming in and. And then the war spoils – some monuments taken from Bab al Aziya in Tripoli (Gadaffi’s compound) such as a huge eagle with an effigy of the man himself dangling from its claws. On entering the museum you wipe your feet on a mat of Gadaffi’s face. So many of these hung on every wall in every shop, hotel and office and now they are used as mats with a great show of stamping and wiping of feet when you enter.

The space inside is mainly devoted to those that died – heartbreaking head shots of men – so young as well as women and children. There are about 1500 who died and many are still missing. And so many amputee survivors. A wall is dedicated to the media from all over the world who visited during the war. And much can be gleaned from the enemy itself with id cards of the many different nationalities that Gadaffi employed to fight for him. Scrolls of paperwork with intricate and chilling voodoo and evil eye magic symbols were found on a lot of these people. The paperwork that promises thousands of Libyan Dinars as bounty to those that killed and maimed key Misratans. And said money in bundles found, most of it fake. Books that indicate the company, house and even district to choose as a war spoil once the deed was done with Gadaffi’s stamp printed on them. And then the art work – cariacatures of Gadaffi by school children, twisted metal bullets and shrapnel that have become jewel studded artworks. The new national flag is prominently displayed amidst photographs of world leaders being shown around this space.

I was taken to the sea side cemetery where all Gadaffi’s troops are buried – each one has it’s own headstone and flowers have been planted around the graves.

This city is still raw and is hurting but it has a story to tell and I hope that many of my future tours to Libya will include a visit to this museum in Misrata to see for their own eyes what its people have done for their freedom.

First impressions in Libya…

Clare — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 22:51:09 +0000

…Well it’s been quite some journey thus far, but I’m now firmly ensconced in Misrata trying to take in the past 24 hours I’ve been in Libya. I am travelling with Nuri and we landed in Malta on Sunday and spent one night in Valetta, meeting up with his uncle Hussein who has been assisting the wounded travelling from Misrata for vital surgery. This was just a taster of the stories to come and upon landing in Tripoli yesterday we were met by Bashir and driven straight to Misrata by passing the capital. Tripoli airport has a new baggage arrivals hall – efficient and clean, otherwise no different from the usual chaotic greetings of many people waiting outside. We sped through numerous check points – perhaps about 6 in total, manned by smiling rebel fighters who waved us through. Bashir is a gentle, shy man, young and good looking with little English. He passed over his mobile to show us a picture of himself laid out in a hospital bed with an impressive hatch crossed scar that reached from his neck to his navel caused by exploding shrapnel. He had lost his brother 6 months previously and had himself been on the front line for most of the war.

I could sense Nuri getting more and more nervous as we approached Misrata – a million different emotions going through his mind. I felt rather helpless for how do you prepare for seeing your hometown in ruins? And seeing family, friends,and loved ones who have suffered so much whilst hearing about those who didn’t make it… Driving down Tripoli street – the former front line - is like entering into an apocalyptic film set; off the scale destruction with burnt out buildings, twisted, flattened, blasted, blackened, pock-marked by holes from bullets and bombs.

It is so unlike anything I can remember of the Misrata I knew before, I could only gasp and gawp whilst Nuri kept muttering over and over ‘Oh my God…’ It was rush hour and people were busy on the streets going about their daily lives; the bakery was doing a brisk trade with half a ceiling and a battle scarred shop front and I noticed that the streets were and still are impeccably clean despite the sinister surroundings which overshadow everything like some constant opressive reminder.

I checked into the Albaraka hotel which was built last March and opened January this year. Omar came running down the steps and it was so wonderful to see him, we all couldn’t stop grinning and patting each other on the back. This hotel was closed up for most of the war but the roof was used for the BBC and other media and Omar told me how he visited them many times as they reported from the rooftop 8 storys high whilst being in the prime viewing spot – pretty much in the centre of things although away from the eye of the storm. The hotel is comfortable and seems busy and full with business men from both Europe and the Middle East as Misrata has always been the commercial hub of the country and has now re-opened its airport and is receiving flights with inbound good from Turkey and Jordan. Pretty impressive considering the airport terminal was flattened by Gadaffi troops not that long ago. My room is on the 5th floor and showcases a perfectly round bullet hole in the tiny glass walled balcony.

We drove to Nuri’s father’s flat for a delicious Libyan meal late into the night. Houda, Nuri’s stepmother had made rice with noodles, a spicy lamb stew and lots of accompanying salads and side dishes. His sisters (8 and 5) performed an impromtu rendition of the National anthem, one hand on heart and waving the new Libyan flag. We spent the evening catching up and Hassan, another of Nuri’s uncles (he has 5 uncles and 2 aunts on his father’s side) arrived with sticky backlava and more stories. Conversation darted between war and family and we heard how Nuri’s father spent the last 3 months of the war with his family in Tripoli constantly on the move from Gadaffi’s forces intent on finding him and throwing him into the notorious Abu Selim prison where his uncle Mohammed had already been taken.

Emotional, intense and wonderful to be back and see everyone. Everyone has a story and everyone has been so pleased and happy to see me I feel so humbled. People are still raw and pain and sorrow are etched into their faces, but they are intent on making a better life for themselves and eager to create a country they want to be proud of. As Omar said ‘If we don’t then we will not honour those who died and everything has been in vain.’

I’m going to Libya…

Clare — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 17:41:39 +0000

So, I’m off to Libya on Sunday. At last! Nuri and I are flying out from Gatwick via Malta for a night stopover before flying directly to Tripoli on Monday morning…Most people don’t quite know how to react and I get a mixture of utter horror with a ’Why on earth do you want to go there now? Its still very dangerous and definitely not open for tourism etc…’ Which I admit is justifiable in light of the news that we hear on a daily basis coming from Libya. So I thought I would set out my reasons for going and why now.

To see all my colleagues, friends and guides and re-establish the links that have been forged over the last eight years.
To make my own assessment of the sites of Leptis and Sabratha. Having recently been to an all day Libya workshop through The Society for Libyan Studies at Kings College London, where Philip Kenrick and Dr Hafed Walda two of my guest lecturers was speaking I was enthralled and fascinated to hear stories of the local communities wielding shut museum doors and taking pricesless antiquities home with them to hide them in cuboards and under beds for protection. Incredibly, there appears to be very little damage done to the sites which is miraculous considering Gadaffi stockpiled weapons at Leptis and members of the Revolutionary Guard used Sabratha as a base…All in the knowledge that Nato would not (hopefully) drop bombs on the second most precious asset to oil that the country has.
I want to re-visit every restaurant, shop and hotel I remember. Meet new people, hear stories and try to get a sense of what people are feeling now things are over and they can look forward.
Simoon raised money and sent medical supplies and other equipment – with many kind donations made by wonderful clients- in conjunction with The World Medical Camp Libya and it would great to see where it ended up.

And why now..? I know it will be fascinating, intense and at times quite hard… And as ever our media continues to fixate on the BAD news coming out of Libya – the roaming militia, the journalists detained as spies, the desecrated war graves…And yes these are not good but in light of the bigger picture the country as a whole is filled with hope and optimism for a better future. And this is GOOD news. On the ground it is all very normal… Schools are open, businessess are back and up and running, Tripoli airport is back in Government hands and I had the best time I’ve ever had processing my visa with smiling happy people eager that I should return to their country. It is going to take time but if I can, in my own tiny way, show a little bit of solidarity, enthusiasm and support, it can only be a good thing.

Read recent articles emphasising the postive in Libya here and here

Simoon joins Original Travel

Clare — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 14:37:35 +0000

I can eventually go live on the very exciting news that we have merged with Original Travel!

It has taken a few months of tooing and frooing but having approached Original in Autumn 2011 (http://www.originaltravel.co.uk/) we have secretly been working away at bringing the two companies together and can now confirm that it is fact and Simoon is most definitely alive and kicking!

Original Travel is an innovative tour company based in south London – basically a one stop shop for adventure travel. It is run by a wonderful bunch of intrepid and enthusiastic young travellers who strive to bring the best service and attention to detail in everything that they offer. I have always thought that they are a very good little global travel company… This is a really positive step for Simoon especially after the ongoing events over the past year with the Arab Spring. Essentially this will enable me to continue to run Simoon and offer the exciting itineraries that we have done so for the past seven years alongside developing new destinations. So I will be sending a newsletter, a press releases and for the time being you can reach me on the same contact Simoon contact details. I will be updating the site with new itineraries imminently,particularly for Jordan,Lebanon, Egypt and Ethiopia and am very much looking forward to a new era for Simoon.

Swimming the Lycian Way

Clare — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 17:09:39 +0000

If you’re looking for a new approach to the Lycian Way then I can highly recommend swimming it – or at least parts of it. I’ve always wanted to do a swim trek and so found myself with nine others donning swimsuits, and all manner of swimming paraphernalia (I’d never heard of drag pants and hand fins before), getting ‘greased up’ and hitting the warm clear sparkling waters off the southern coast of Turkey for a week of glorious swimming, sunning, boats, eating, lazing, exploring, dancing…And a bit more swimming.

We were situated in Kas; a pretty coastal resort about 170kms southwest of Antalya where the mountains drop into the Mediterranean and an abundance of good boutique hotels, pensions, shops and restaurants cater to your every need. It is a popular destination with trendy young Turks on their summer holidays who come to sunbathe on the terraced cafes, and dance the night away in the cool bars overlooking the sea. Kas is on part of the Lycian Way; an ancient 500km footpath that stretches from Fethiye to Antalya with numerous ruins, castles, tombs, and sunken cities peppering the route. We were looked after by two excellent swimming guides and it was a joy to be with a group of people so at ease in the sea; there was Ryan, a huge hulk of a man who could free dive to 25 metres with ease and startle divers as we pushed through their air bubbles overhead. When I felt tired I could hold onto his ankles and he would tow me through the water for great lengths of time.

A typical day would be 3kms swimming in the morning and 2kms in the afternoon which would take about 2 – 2.5hrs and 1.5 – 2 hrs respectively depending on your speed. But it wasn’t an endurance race and at any time you could stop and get on the boat…Not that anyone did, but we were divided into three groups according to our capabilities so everyone swam at the pace they wanted to.

The gulet became our base for the day and we would set off each morning from the marina to the start of our swim; these gulet’s are wonderful traditional Turkish boats perfect for lounging on with plenty of space, numerous sun decks, and a cheerful experienced local crew constantly preparing delicious snacks and glasses of hot apple tea for us. The route took us along the coast from Ugagiz where we docked on the little island of Kekova and trekked up to the imposing castle of Simena with its fantastic views of the surrounding islands covered in thyme scented trees and grazing goats. We swam near to the ancient sunken city of Aperlae and peered through the glass bottom in our gulet down to the ruins; the city flourished between the 3^rd and 4^thcentury before being abandoned and falling into the sea. Remains of houses and their contents littered the sea-bed including stairs, archways, amphorae, statues and countless other abandoned artefacts. We swam over plane and boat wrecks, alongside turtles, and into caves. In fact we couldn’t stop swimming and when the boat dropped anchor for a long lazy lunch of traditional home made Turkish food to include fresh fish and delicious salads, we’d still be in the water, diving and hanging out with noodles (bendy things you can wrap around your body to comfortably float in the water). There followed much sunbathing, fishing for calamari, reading and relaxing before heading off to start the afternoon’s swim; perhaps another 3kms swimming past tombs embedded into a cliff face or striking out across open sea from island to island. The highlight was an open water crossing of 5kms non-stop from the Greek island of Meis back to Turkey; an exhilarating swimming experience being buffeted by cross currents, dodging boats and enthralled by the deep blue waters.

Clare’s Recce Tour to Uzbekistan – Simoon’s New Destination

Clare — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 14:45:23 +0000

When I told people I was going to Uzbekistan, I was often met with odd, sometimes confused looks. Few people had heard of the country let alone the location, which seems to be a mystery to many! Uzbekistan is located on the central axis of the ancient Silk Road in Central Asia, just south of Kasakhstan and north of Turkmenistan. This location on the silk route as well as its more recent Soviet occupation has moulded the country into a fascinating mix of cultures, heritage and history – the perfect new destination for Simoon! The countries’ landscape ranges from the vast Kyzylkum desert in the west, to the fertile plains of the Ferghana Valley in the east, with the terrain getting progressively more mountainous as you reach the Kyrgystan and Tajikistan borders on the eastern fringes of the country. Our journey started in the capital city of Tashkent, a city strongly influenced by its Soviet predecessors. The city had a much calmer and more orderly air about it than I was used to with our Middle Eastern and North African cities – the wide boulevards, the vast Independence and Amir Timur squares and the chandeliered metro stations all made it abundantly clear that this was going to be a very different experience.
After a brief stay in Tashkent we headed southwest by train to the city of Samarkand.    Our first stop in the city was stunning Registan Square (see image) which is renowned as being one of central Asia’s most impressive examples of Islamic architecture where the Persian influence in architecture and style is very apparent. When much of the restoration of the Square happened in the 1980’s many of the craftsmen were drafted in from Persia to complete the intricate mosaic tiling covering the medressas. From the Registan we continued our tour of the city to view the other sites such as the Bibi Khanum mosque, the Siab Bazaar, and the Shah-i-Zinda necropolis. The Shah-i-Zinda sits on the crest of a hillside and holds a collection of mausoleums of the who’s who of Uzbekistan through the ages. Although it is possibly not as iconic or as well known as the Registan it was one of my favourite sites in the city, with each individual mausoleum decorated slightly differently to the taste of its interred inhabitant. It was probably also because we visited it just as the sun was setting; there were few visitors and we wandered in relative peace and quiet from one mausoleum to the next.
The next day of our somewhat whistlestop tour took us further west to Bukhara. Bukhara has a very different feel to Samarkand or Tashkent; it has a slower and more relaxed pace and has a real endearing quality – I instantly liked this city. Its most prominent site, the Arc (fortress) – see image – is an imposing fortress that housed the city’s elite from as early as the 5th century until as late at 1920 when it was bombed by the Red Army – unfortunately much of the Arc’s interior was destroyed in this attack however parts of the Royal quarter are still intact and house a number of museums. Throughout the day we toured around this relatively small city on foot and also visited sites such as the Kalon Mosque and Minaret, the Chor Minor and the Ismael Samani Mausoleum.   For the shopping lovers amongst us and if you are keen to get involved in a bit of haggling, Bukhara also has some beautifully hand painted pottery and craftwork, of which the quality was probably the best that I came across on the tour.
Then it was on to the walled city of Khiva, a city historically known for its slave trade (and general barbarity!), which lies in the heart of the Kyzyl Kum desert almost 500km northwest of Bukhara. The journey is an arduous 10 hours by bus through the desert however from the moment we arrived in Khiva I knew the long journey was worth it. It was early evening, the sun was setting and I stepped through the Ichan Kala (inner wall) for the first time and felt transported. With barely a soul on the streets I roamed around the winding alleyways of the city with the only sound being the wood craftsmen at work in their workshops (wood carving seemed to be the speciality of the city). On my wanderings I stumbled across the Juma Minaret, which we would climb to the top of the following day for some fabulous panoramic views of the city.
The next day we discovered the other sites of Khiva including the Kuhna Ark; this was the Khivan rulers own residence and fortress which was first constructed in the 12th century and later expanded in the 17th century. The Kuhna Ark held buildings such as the Khan’s mint, stables, harem, mosque and jail. As you wander around this museum like city you get a real sense of its long history and what it might have been like to live there at the time of the Khan. We also had the opportunity to visit a carpet workshop set in a small converted Madrassa in the old city, which had been originally set up by a young NGO volunteer from the UK (he has since written a very interesting and insightful account of his time in Khiva – A Carpet Ride to Khiva by Christopher Aslan Alexander). The use of natural dyes, original Timurid designs and the fact that you could watch the skilful weavers at work made for a very interesting addition to the tour. Unfortunately, that evening it was time to leave Khiva and we departed for the neighbouring city of Urgench for our flight back to Tashkent.   Travelling around Uzbekistan has convinced me that it is the ideal next destination for Simoon; the country combines a perfect mix of culture and history and with easy link ups to its neighbouring countries of Kyrgystan and Turkmenistan. Watch this space for tours in either Autumn 2011 or Spring 2012….
If you are interested in Uzbekistan do let us know and we can answer any queries or send you the most up to date information on our upcoming tours.