It shouldn’t be a blind shot in the dark but its implications should be known (Serial No. 106-2)

Birthday parties for adults are so much more fun than those for children. You usually don't have to bring a present, there's often more yeast devoted to beer than cake, and you sometimes get to shoot stuff. Well, at least that's what I did recently at a friend's 40th birthday, in which the focus of the party was "medieval weapons training." 

On a Saturday morning, I took the train to Amberley, a village in West Sussex, whose thatched-hut serenity didn't belie any of the afternoon's cutthroat activities (left). It was a blustery morning in the country, and unfortunately, as I walked among the village's narrow streets (right), some bit of greenery blew into my eye.

I repeatedly flushed out my eye, but it remained red and watery. And a mild pain made it uncomfortable to focus on Amberley Castle across the fields (left). Upon its hilltop perch, the winds were even stronger, and I was worried that between my bum eye and the fierce gusts, the weapons training on the castle grounds might be a bust (right).

Although the castle's turrets are intact, a walk through the gatehouse revealed that much of the original structure is now in ruins (left). But there are still walls enough to keep the resident peacocks contained. Nonetheless, polite signs remind guests staying in the castle hotel to close doors to keep the birds out of their rooms (right).

Luckily, the peacocks had already been penned up for the season, so there was no chance of a stray arrow felling a peafowl. With my dominant eye still acting wonky, I didn't think the meager burlap backdrop would compensate enough for my lack of aim (top left). To my surprise, I hit the target 90 percent of the time, but I was still not confident enough to compete in a shootout for 20 Scottish pounds (top right). For whatever reason, I seemed to have the most natural knack for throwing axes, even though the sweet spot was much smaller (bottom). 

I used my eye strain as an excuse to escape the cold, where I relaxed beside a roaring fire in the women's restroom within the castle (top left). Indeed, the castle is the real deal: If the authentic suit of armor isn't enough to convince you (top right), consider that Henry VIII once came to the castle to seek counsel from Bishop Sherbourne about his divorce from Catherine of Aragon. As the sun went down, just after 5 p.m. this time of year, we headed into one of the castle's many dining rooms to revive ourselves with high tea (bottom). 

Later that night, we ate dinner at The Bridge Inn, where a kindly bartender who overheard me talking about my ailing eye pulled out an emergency eye patch. Looking like a World War II casualty throughout the meal seemed a little ridiculous, but it was definitely restorative. By the time I woke up the next morning, I was able to truly enjoy the view out the window of my room at Woodybanks Cottage B&B (left). A whole herd of deer -- I stopped counting at 20 -- ate their morning repast on the South Downs as I enjoyed my full English breakfast (right).

Sight reinstated, I decided to join some of the archery/crossbow crew from the day before on a hike to nearby Arundel, also known as TimeOut Country Walks II No. 22 walk (top left). Our ramble took us through many muddy pastures where we were watched closely by roaming cows (top right). I, however, kept my now fully functional eye on the windswept landscape (bottom). 

About two-thirds of the way through the walk, we stopped at The George in Burpham for Sunday roast dinner (left). We weren't the best-smelling group in the bunch, but luckily the proprietors of the community pub welcome diners with dirty boots. We took a quick swing by St. Mary the Virgin church before setting out on the last leg of the hike (right).

I figured the last 5K would be a breeze, but I didn't account for the fact that we would have to plod through the mucky banks of the River Arun. The sun was starting to fall as we finally saw Arundel Castle through the mist in the distance. From Arundel, we caught the train back to London, in time for me to make the weekly pub quiz at a local boozer. All in all, even with no goody bags as party favors, it was a good weekend. 

Welcome you all to Uzbekistan, the Great Silk Road ... and Khiva (S.Hrg.112-399)

We continued our caravan from Bukhara by taking a sky camel to Khiva, Uzbekistan's "museum city" on the Silk Road (top). The pristine preservation of the place is obvious from the first step through the city gates, which quickly brings you to Hotel Orient Star, where you can stay in one of the study cells of the former Muhammad Amin-Khan Madrasa, and Kalta Minor Minaret, rumored to be only the foundation of what was supposed to become the largest tower in Central Asia, which explains its squatness (bottom left). The turquoise on the minaret is a signature hue throughout the town, found on numerous domes, including the Pakhlavan Makhmud Mausoleum (bottom right).

Although it is a functioning city, as seen by the kids playing soccer next to the mausoleum, Khiva draws tourists partly because of its many religious sites. One of the most interesting is Djuma Mosque, a single-hall structure built in the 18th century. Its pillars, perfectly aligned to allow little obstruction to the cleric's prayer-leading pocket, are from various time periods, including as early as the 10th century (top). One of the most interesting posts features images from multiple religions: Zoroastrian, Buddhism, and Hinduism; the fact that the pillar was splitting seemed particularly symbolic (bottom left). In the middle of the supports, an open patio has been covered with a glass ceiling, from which you can see the mosque's minaret (bottom right). 

Although both can be climbed, we decided to ascend the Islam Khoja Minaret instead. It was tight squeeze up the narrow tower, made even more difficult by the lack of light to see the slim steps (left). Thankfully, at the top there were plenty of windows from which to view the tiered walls and roofs of the compact Itchan Kala, a UNESCO World Heritage Site (right).

The inner town was home to the khans who ruled the region. Within their 17th-century residential fortress, the Kunya Ark, evidence of royal extravagance can be seen everywhere, including on the ceiling of the winter mosque (top). In the early 20th century, the last khans built a last hurrah to lavishness in the form of a winter home right outside the city walls. The Nurullay Palace features some of the world's first indoor fireplaces, with facades of tiles from St. Petersburg, Russia (bottom left). Even back then, the oligarchy exhibited a penchant for European style, with crystal chandeliers and gilded mirrors that seem to be straight out of Versailles (bottom right).

Indeed, the khans denied themselves no desires. The harem of Tash-Khovli Palace features rooms for wives and concubines with separate, secret corridors to the khan's boudoir (left). When it came to other types of servants, everything was done right out in the open. The holding areas for the slave market were within one of the main thoroughfares into the city; the official name of the walled city's eastern gate is Palvan Darvoza, or Hercules' Gate, but most locals referred to it as Slave Gate (right).

Locals today are still more likely to enter town through Palvan Darvoza, but tourists tend to use Ota Darvoza, or Father's Gate, on the opposite side of the town (left). With a small tip to a caretaker in the Ark, you can climb up to the watchtower that overlooks the gate and the heart of the city (right). 

Most tourists stay within the walls of the city, but one morning, we took a field trip to Djambas Qala Fortress, which has eroded quite a bit since it was constructed in the 4th century (top). A former Zoroastrian temple is now topped by a wooden tripod to which visitors tie scraps of cloth to make wishes (bottom left). Just outside the fortress rests a yurt camp where guests can take a dip in a salty pond (bottom right).

At least in the off season, there's not a lot going on in the sleepy city. If we hadn't been on a tour, we would've struggled to find places to eat. But there was no lack of establishments peddling traditional Khorezm hats (left) or selling snapshots of you sitting khan-like in a throne (right).

With the slow stream of tourists, the merchants resort to entertaining themselves technologically. Even a mausoleum prayer leader wasn't immune from a bit of boredom (top left). Locals still go to the shrine to honor famous charitable poet and athlete Pakhlavan Mahmud, who once threw a wrestling match so his opponent wouldn't be killed due to his defeat (top right). Merely a memorial statue is dedicated to arguably the city's most famous native son: Al-Khorezmiy, the father of the algorithm (bottom).

I was once pretty decent at math, so it wasn't hard for me to add up all the food we ate. I particularly liked the green noodles, made with lots of dill and served as the main dish for our lunch at Chaikhana Mirza Boshi (left). By our final dinner, I was more bloated than blown away by the food, but I did enjoy the ambiance of Khorezm Art Restaurant (right). Its location, inside part of Allakuli-Khan Madrasa, put a fitting final point on the historical hospitality of Khiva.

Bukhara, a different city (House Hearing Serial No. 13-55)

I don't want to imply that Tashkent is limited touristically, but during my last trip to Uzbekistan, we hit most of the city's highlights in terms of monuments and markets. And besides, most of the places that make the country a travel destination are located outside the capital. So during my second trip to the country, we spent a short day in Tashkent before flying to Bukhara, a UNESCO World Heritage site. This dreary time of year doesn't draw many tourists, so it seemed we were the only guests at Boutique Hotel Amelia (left), which put out quite a spread for the included breakfast, served in a 19th-century Jewish merchant's home (right).

We arrived after dark, but the city was still full of light, especially in the main square, Lyab-i-Khauz, where a spotlight on Nadir Divan-begi Khanaka creates a clear reflection of the Sufi dervish building on the water basin below (top left). Other structures in the square cast shadows on sedan sitting in front of the Kukeldash Madrasa, the largest in Central Asia (top right). The moon was out, but most of the light was coming from Bolo Hauz Chaikhana, situated catty-corner to the dervishes' home and across from some stone camels (bottom).

In the daylight, the sculptures were a prime backdrop for photographers shooting newlyweds -- and tourists taking selfies (left). But I was more interested in the memorial to Khoja Nasruddin, the Don Quixote of the Middle East, who is known far and wide for his foolish wisdom (right).

The colors of the night continued into the day as we toured around the town. Inside the khanaka, a vivid collection of artifacts, uncovered from nearby digs, is housed under a kaleidoscopic ceiling (left). Across the reservoir, the Nadir Divan-begi Madrasa displayed its chromatic construction on the outside (right). The converted caravansary, like the khanaka, is named after the vizier who oversaw their creation; I, for one, think good ol' Nadir defied his name when it came to design taste.

 

Azure architecture abounds in the city, especially within one of its main tourist sites: the Po-i-Kalyan complex, dominated by the Kalyan Minaret, the tallest in Central Asia, also known as the Tower of Death because criminals were reportedly once tossed from its windows (top). From Mir-i Arab Madrasa, still functioning after its 16th-century start, one can look across Registan Square toward Kalyan Mosque, rebuilt on the site where its predecessor was burned during the 13th-century Mongolian invasion (bottom left). Down the street from the square are a grouping of trading domes and two madrasas, Abdullazizkhan and Ulugbek, facing each other. The madrasas are now filled with more souvenirs than students -- but at least one stork, a prominent symbol of peace in Uzbekistan, has taken roost on one of Abdullazizkhan's towers (bottom right).

Another prominent structure on the Bukhara skyline is the Ark Fortress, former home to the region's ruling khans (top left). The citadel once contained an entire city, but now only a few buildings are accessible, including the emir's throne room and mosque, which houses an exhibit on ancient publications (top right). While schoolgirls synchronized selfies, I choreographed the appropriate angle to capture TJ in one of the mosque's ceiling mirrors (bottom).

Not all of the history in Bukhara is imbued with grandeur. Near Lyab-i-Khauz and next to Maggoki-Attari Mosque rest the footprints of commoners' caravaseries, which continue to be excavated to deeper levels (left). Farther afield we found the Jewish cemetery (right), which felt like an anachronism, considering we couldn't locate the once-flourishing synagogue, which apparently now has a dwindling population.

Although they come straight out of Soviet times, the ubiquitous Chaikas and Volgas hardly seem out of style. Perhaps they've stood the test of time because they are so sturdy, judging by the load we saw on one parked at the furniture market (top left), conveniently located across from the jewelry market. Near the city's produce market, right next to the saintly Chashma-Ayub Mausoleum, many vehicles were stacked high with sundries (top right). Just a short stroll away from the bustling commercial center, the city walls crumbled without a care (bottom).

I, of course, care a lot about food, so we did sample the local specialties. On the night we arrived, TJ and I shared some draft beers and apricot kernels -- which either fight or cause cancer, depending on which internet wisdom you believe -- at a hole-in-the-wall called The Pub (left). The next night, we had a more substantial meal, including Uzbek dumplings manti, at Chinar Chaikhana (right).

After finishing our chaikhana victuals, we had just a bit of moonlight left to take a look at Char Minar, the gatehouse of a now-missing madrasa (left), before catching a cab to our return flight. The fading colors put a nice capstone on our trip, which started with a stunning sunset that only hinted at the hues and tints we would encounter (right).