Cemeteries to visit Uzbekistan

The old cemetery of Kokand is a magical place, especially when you get lost in the finissante day. The screams of the swifts are then the only ones to disturb the absolute calm there. The graves, for most simple whitewashed monuments, appear to be arranged randomly. We walk here quietly, asking from time to time under a tree. The tombs with pastel colours, sometimes blue or pink, indicate early death. It is in this cemetery that you will see the magnificent tombs listed below.

From the birthplace of Timur there is only a small cemetery where turtles and snakes try to make good cleaning. Beware of tall herbs. Following the track, you can go back to Shahrisabz.

In this cemetery lies, to the left about thirty metres from the entrance, the French explorer in Central Asia, Joseph Martin, who died in Ferghana in 1892. Falling in love with the steppe, he undertook explorations in Siberia. His work earned him many distinctions in France and Russia. In 1888, he made his third trip, but contracted malaria between Lanzhou and Hotan. It was almost blind that he finally joined Marguilan and Ferghana. He was rushed to hospital, but could not be saved and died on May 23, 1892.

Go up to the monument to the Aral Sea. From this height, you can see what was once a sea, which the catastrophe has turned into a new desert, covering an area of more than 40,000 km². In fact, it is not even possible to see the "sea" anymore, which is now a mere puddle located 200 km from Moynaq. The wrecks, once scattered in this desert infinity, were in 2008 all gathered and lined up at the foot of the monument where they lay on the dunes rusty spots. In fact, there is not much left of the fishing vessels that once plied the Aral Sea: cannibalized to reinforce the roofs and fences of houses when the city was deserted, they now only offer the sad spectacle of decaying ship skeletons. The sand itself is littered with grains of rust, pieces of gnawed steel plates, ropes, old cans... Coming down from the monument and crossing the city, we arrive at the old cannery where everything has remained as it was since the closure in 1993, due to the lack of fish. The machines, rusted to the bone, seem to be stopped in their tracks, empty cans are waiting to be filled, safety instructions are still posted on the walls. It's barely damaged, as if the disaster had struck not long ago, the sea had suddenly receded and the production line had simply been shut down. A science fiction or horror movie setting.