Once Upon a Minaret

Cities can be exciting places to explore. They can hold secrets, whispers in alleyways, ancient trysts. Some are bursting at the seams with humanity, others are islands. They all have their own histories, many of them violent and bloody. This is what we do.

I lost the desire to travel in the time of COVID, when the world ground to a halt as far as global exploration was concerned. I used to love the thrill of landing in a different city, whether for pleasure or for work, but for now I prefer to feel the ground under my feet. You could say my world has imploded. My contact with other parts of the globe is now via podcasts, mainly historical, mostly focused on the constant shifts in political power driven by men wielding words like weapons. They shout each other down, defile reputations, belittle women, other than those warped creatures that hang on their coat tails, and stomp on minorities. Sometimes they commit acts so foul and unspeakable that scribes simply cannot record them without hands shaking and eyes blurring with tears.

In history, we try to find some rationale for the behaviour we witness today. We won't. There is none. They re-write the rule books, erase their crimes and spin tales as tall as Redwood trees that we are all supposed to believe. We stand by, watching the destruction of a race on repeat, allowing madmen to sit upon thrones in countries that long ago banished monarchy or turned their backs on Empire.

Cities change hands and names, cities are battered and hammered by the tools of war, re-emerging from the rubble, re-built in a different style. Most retain some history, with mosques, minarets, castles, city walls, caravanserai still proudly standing. As I write this I am distracted by an article on the cities of Uzbekistan in Central Asia. Bukhara, one of the main cities, was a political hub from the 5th century, before the Red Army arrived in the 1920s, damaging many ancient buildings and monuments. There are still many examples of its opulent past. I have never travelled to Uzbekistan and now I feel the old travel bug eating into my flesh once again.

I have spent too much time in soulless modern cities across the Western world, although this has been balanced by journeys through many iconic European destinations. Perhaps I could grey nomad my way along the silk road. Just think of the stories to be heard, the history to be uncovered. I didn't really need another distraction but it appears I have created one. Who is coming?