Jews, back in Bukhara

After a trip that was lengthened somewhat by our driver needing to stop twice for mandatory prayer breaks, we pulled into Bukhara's old town, and twisted around a few bends to find Akbar House, our home-turned-hotel. Arrived at last! And in terms of accommodations, I couldn't have picked a finer culmination of our central Asian odyssey -- the residents have taken to opening their homes to tourists in the form of small, delightful B&B's with attentive hosts and luxurious environs (by luxurious, I mean air-conditioned).

Bukhara is a charming old town, which due to its late integration into the Russian empire as well as its relative lack of historical secular importance, was never really homogenized like Samarkand. It was the religious and cultural capital of the Timurid empire, comfortable in it's role as second-city to the temporal capital of Samarkand. It appears that the Soviet planners blessed Bukhara by overlooking it, allowing it to retain most of its ancient charm. It is very different in character from Samarkand and the rest of Uzbekistan that we've seen, largely because it is populated by "Tajiks," the same Persian-speaking people who make up the majority in Tajikistan. The Persians differ from the Turkic Uzbeks in their mode of dress and conduct; they seem to be calmer and better educated, but on the whole are just as friendly. The fierce heat of the city has been mitigated by the cool of the many courtyards and neighborhood open reservoirs -- a civilized place.

The city was once home to Central Asia's largest and most prosperous Jewish community. There were several synagogues, and hundreds of family homes clustered together through the same crowded streets for hundreds of years. The Jewish families were brought to the region by none other than Temur, who captured them while campaigning in Persia, and brought them back to his homeland to work as craftsmen. The Jews were forbidden to leave the
Timurid heartland, but were permitted to settle in Bukhara, a city more like their Persian homeland, which they appeared to have found more welcoming than the Turkic Samarkand

After the fall of the Soviet Union, the vast majority of the Jews emigrated en masse to Israel and to Queens, New York, leaving only a smattering of their older kin behind. Many sold their beautiful old courtyard homes to local Bukharin, who in turn re-opened them as B&B's. We are staying in one called "Akbar House," owned by a gregarious Uzbek of the same name, who is also runs a antique shop in a wing of an old madrasah. Akbar, who himself is a a quarter Jewish, has a beautiful home decorated with various local crafts and textiles, many of which might be for sale if the price is right.

Jonathan, my traveling companion, is mildly obsessed with purchasing some token of Judaica to take home to his parents, but we understand that whatever was left by the departing Jews has long since been snapped up by waves of Jewish and Israeli tourists. I was surprised to find that there have been no enterprising locals that have taken the opportunity to produce some authentic-looking candlestick holders or some such to flog to tourists such as ourselves (which indeed is exactly what has happened around every old synagogue in India or China, no matter how small, insignificant or ancient the Jewish community there was). Eventually old Akbar was convinced to part with a fragment of a handsome old Torah that he has kept around the house, apparently for just such an occasion.