Diary of an unforgettable train trip on the Orient Silk Road Express

The Silk Road conjures up images of distant lands, trails of camels, exotic spices and fabrics – and now you can travel the route by rail.

A chartered special train, the Orient Silk Road Express, follows the historic routes and stops in Central Asia.

The train takes you through Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan in about 14 days.

Before 81 train passengers from 10 nations board the carriages in Uzbekistan’s capital, Tashkent, the travel programme on the day of departure offers a glimpse of modern, youthful Uzbekistan.

At a concert in the conservatory, Feruza Mamirjonova, 22, performs with the traditional string instrument, the dutar. She is Muslim but does not wear a veil. “Uzbekistan is in every respect a country in development,” says the musician, who receives thunderous applause.

Our adventure begins as the train departs Tashkent in the evening.

It is not hard to tear ourselves away at the northern station, as the teeming metropolis is not especially impressive, with many modern buildings, construction sites and traffic jams. Home to 3 million, the city roars, clatters and rattles – though this is the soundtrack of our train trip.

Ali Burkhanov, one of the guides, dispels the notion of a luxury train. “Used toilet paper goes in the bin next to it.” Those who have not booked the most expensive category share two toilets and one bathroom per carriage with others. Our shower times are scheduled on a list. The conductors clean, tidy up and make the beds.

The corridors and compartments are decorated in a Central Asian style, with carpeted floors. I do a quick test of the bed and find out its dimensions: 184 centimetres long and 67 centimetres wide.

The train rolls into the setting sun, and by morning, we are in Khiva. Its historic centre is enclosed by city walls and is often promoted as a “fairy tale from 1,001 Nights” – but it comes at a price. You pay the equivalent of $21 to be able to wander through the alleys and visit important monuments, including the Kunya Ark Palace, the harem house, and the Juma Mosque with its forest of wooden columns.

Among the countless brightly glazed tiles covering minarets and walls, Swiss ceramicist Fränzi Iff, 46, says she feels in her element. She is one of the younger travellers, and is fascinated by the intricate patterns and the scale of the compositions.

She is equally intrigued by the traditional clay construction and the numerous carved wooden doors.

Less enchanting, however, are the crowds and all the commercialization. The old town is a giant bazaar and feels a bit like it is marketing itself as an architectural and cultural Disneyland. Offerings for tourists include tightrope walking shows, camel rides and photo benches where visitors don massive fur hats and hold scimitars.

Once it is dark we sway along the rails towards Bukhara, another UNESCO World Heritage site like Khiva, also located on the old Silk Road.

Fine hammering sounds echo across the square in front of the former Toqi Zargaron Mosque. Mahmud Mamurov, just 15 years old, is engraving an intricate pattern into a bronze bowl with a small hammer and punch. Sitting on a chair in the shade, he works with great precision, tapping away to the millimetre, as he says confidently, “I am a master.” He learned the craft from his father, and the family business is thriving.

Uzbekistan is a land of craftsmanship, from embroidery to gold, silver and metalwork. Creativity and commerce are tied to the history of the Silk Road. “Bukhara was an important hub, and the great minaret was the lighthouse for the caravans,” says tour guide Burkhanov. The route to the Samanid Mausoleum, created from baked bricks dating back to the 10th century, passes through an amusement park – also typical of Uzbekistan.

Most of the architectural splendour was built much later: the domed bazaars, the Kalon Mosque, and the Mir-i-Arab madrasa. Tonight, no one is lulled to sleep by the rattling of the train as we are spending the night in a hotel.

In Bukhara’s desert climate, women in their airy, elegant dresses seem to float. We take a bus trip into the provinces and see that even the schoolchildren in the mountain village of Changak are neatly dressed. In front of clay walls, 16-year-old Farangiz and her friend Nigina stop me to practise their English and ask for a photo of themselves. They feel special.

We have similar encounters in Shahrisabz, where several caravanserais once stood along the Silk Road through Afghanistan. The local World Heritage site is still largely undiscovered by tourists, but originals from the early days have disappeared. Burkhanov, 41, recalls the destruction, wars and changing rulers in Central Asia.

Our day ends with a barbecue and wine festival in front of the austere train station building.

The icy mountains of Tajikistan, passing by like a cinema screen, evoke memories of the hardships of the past. The Silk Road traversed mountain passes, deserts, steppes and gorges. A caravan, guide Burkhanov says, covered an average of 30 kilometres per day. Our train puffs along the loop back to Uzbekistan as planned in the tour itinerary. The compartment doors remain open, as everyone is happy to chat.

Samarkand has always impressed and overwhelmed visitors. What begins with the modern pomp of the train station continues with the dreamlike settings of Central Asian architecture. We see the Shah-i-Zinda mausoleum complex and Registan Square with its three former madrasas, which, following the Silk Road era, fostered development, culture and science.

Here, you feel intoxicated by the Orient. Every gate seems to open like a portal to paradise. We admire domes and tilework in blue and turquoise, adorned with floral and star motifs, inscriptions and geometric symmetries. It’s overwhelming.

Interwoven with past and present is silk. Slightly hunched, with a sharp eye on the template and her own fingers, Sarvinoz Hamroqulova sits at her loom. In a Samarkand workshop, she has been working on a silk carpet for seven months, one she could never afford herself. Only a few weeks remain until completion. “You need a lot of patience and love for the work,” she says.

On the 1,067 kilometres to Kyrgyzstan, head chef Larisa Koshevnikova and her team are under extreme pressure. They are churning out soups, omelettes and pork ribs. It is not fancy, but it sure is tasty.

The swaying of the train does not bother her in her onboard kitchen. Koshevnikova used to work on an ocean liner.

What might she not like about the job? “The heat in the kitchen!” It is only 3 square metres and the temperature steadily rises. Meanwhile the guests are going wild, enjoying a vodka tasting session. Fortunately, the dreaded headache does not materialize.

The course of the journey shifts: from culture to nature. Kyrgyzstan welcomes us with vastness, meadows and chains of peaks. Majestic mountains with icy caps rise in the Ala-Archa National Park. The wind rushes through a wide river valley, sweeping through firs, birches and junipers.

“The pearl of Kyrgyzstan,” as it is called, is Lake Issyk-Kul, the second-largest mountain lake in the world after Lake Titicaca in South America. During a boat tour, we soak in the fresh air and the views of four- and five-thousand-metre peaks. Wispy clouds are reflected in the dark blue water. Variants of the Silk Road ran along the northern and southern shores.

On the fertile soils, apricots, apples and cherries grow. “Kymyz,” fermented mare’s milk, sustained the ancient nomadic peoples and is a taste test of endurance. It tastes a little animal-like, still.

The morning light covers Kazakhstan’s treeless hills in a golden hue. At the station in Almaty, the brakes screech, and the familiar sounds of the train fade away. It is the end of the line.

During the city tour, we see towering Soviet-era buildings constructed to impress. Trendy cafés and relief plaques at the Independence Monument tell the country’s history. One scene shows loaded camels moving along the Silk Road.