Walking The Silk Road in Uzbekistan at 78: You’re Too Old for That

“By the way, I forgot to tell you, I’m going on a trip to Uzbekistan in a few days.” That’s what my 78-year-old French mom, Claude Allenou, casually told me a couple of months ago just as we were about to hang up on our weekly transatlantic call.

“Uzbekistan?” I asked, my mind racing with a million questions, top of which: “Why?” (and also “Isn’t she too old for such a trip?”). I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, my siblings and I are used to our globe-trotting, polyglot mom’s multiple adventures, travels to far-flung places, and endless curiosity about different cultures and human nature.

But still. “Uzbekistan?”

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This latest adventure should not have been a shock; this is the woman who took a nasty tumble down two flights of marble stairs in China and busted her knee pretty badly. She was taken by ambulance to a hospital, only to be told that because of the gridlock, she’d have to walk (with her open knee) the rest of the way, which she did. Her knee was stitched up (sans anesthesia) after a bottle of alcohol was generously poured on it, and off she went to enjoy the rest of her Chinese adventures. This is also the woman who, on her ascent to Machu Picchu, and upon the guide’s recommendation, drank a coca leaf concoction to avoid altitude sickness, the only one in her group with no qualms doing so.

“Well, I was the only one who didn’t get sick.”

Why not a cruise?

After my initial surprise, I asked my mom — who lives in Toulouse, France when not traveling the world — why she chose Uzbekistan as her new destination, when many people in her cohort would rather go on cruises or visit more traditionally comfortable locales. She explained that this was a lifelong bucket-list dream of hers, and that she’d always wanted to explore the history of the Silk Road, the ancient trade route, in Uzbekistan.

Claude Allenou on her trip to The Silk Road in Uzbekistan; photo courtesy of Allenou

“I’ve been wanting to go on this trip since I was 10 and studied the Silk Road in history class. The long caravans that left from China, going through Uzbekistan to arrive in Europe, always fascinated me,” she told me.

My mom’s willingness to continue being curious about the world, humans and culture, and to explore the roads less traveled, continues to inspire my siblings and me. Yet, once we were all made aware of her trip, we quickly and oddly sprang into reverse roles and parent-mode action, requesting that she send a full itinerary, the places where she would stay, and that she keep us abreast of her every step.

“I will only have WhatsApp and probably not a lot because of the lack of Wi-Fi,” she told us. “So I’ll give news when I can.”

I was also briefly inclined to set a curfew and have her report to me every evening, but realized that might be a step too far and that she would either a) hang up on me, or b) burst out laughing. And then it hit me — I was treating my mom as if she were a teen, even though she had never been that strict with me when I was a (rather difficult) teen myself in the first place.

So off she went to Uzbekistan, and the enthusiastic messages and pictures she sent us (after a couple of days of worrying silence) along the way were fascinating, exotic and unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She sent pictures from Tashkent, Samarkand and Bukhara, images of the mausoleums’ blue cupolas, Stalin-era monuments, cotton fields, the never-ending desert, and souks overflowing with spices. She also sent pictures of the somewhat worrying-looking propeller plane she took from Tashkent to Termez on the Afghan border. Thanks to her, I learned what a caravanserai was (“roadside inns along major trade routes like the ancient Silk Road, that doubled as hubs for the exchange of goods, ideas, and culture,” per National Geographic). I also learned that there was more than one Silk Road, and that the national dish is called “plov,” a mixture of meat, rice, and vegetables that men traditionally prepare because of the enormity of the cast-iron pan and the difficulty of stirring it.

Upon her return, I asked her what surprised her the most. “The beauty of all the blues of the mausoleums’ cupolas. The Uzbeks’ feat of renovating all the monuments left abandoned during the Soviet era,” she said. “The Uzbek women’s willingness to talk and share their stories.”

Tilya-Kori Madrasa in Samarkand, Uzbekistan; photo by Claude Allenou

Thanks to her, I learned that the Uzbek people are incredibly kind and open, and that the streets are spotless, thanks to the numerous, mostly female, street sweepers —a remnant of the Soviet era. Thanks to her, I, too, still abide by the French saying that “les voyages forment la jeunesse,” which literally means “travels shape the youth,” or, in my mom’s case, “travels keep you young.”

The next destinations on her bucket list: “Ispahan, to see the roses. And trekking on Mount Catherine in the Sinai, the highest summit in Egypt. It’s otherworldly, and it’s my dream.”

“You’re Too Old For That” is a regular series that explores inspiring activities being pursued by those over 50 years old who feel you’re never too old to do what lights you up. Are you doing something inspiring? Do you know someone who is pursuing a passion in their older years? If you or someone you know is 50 years old or older and should have their inspiring story told, please email the editors at Nifty 50+