SAMARKAND, Uzbekistan - A simple black marble plaque screwed beside the entrance at School No. 21 on Tashkent Street commemorates an illustrious graduate: Islam Abdughanievich Karimov. Former chief of the Uzbek Communist Party under Soviet rule and president of Uzbekistan since independence in 1991, Karimov attended secondary school here from 1950 to 1955. He would have walked to class through the labyrinth of the city's old quarter, and likely dallied in the nearby bazaar just as schoolchildren today.

This oasis city's most famous son before Karimov was Tamerlane, the last of the great nomadic conquerors of Central Asia. In a courtyard outside the Gur-Emir mausoleum, where Tamerlane is buried along with three of his sons and Ulugbek, his murdered grandson, children on a class field trip skipped cheerfully past us.

Just as Islam Karimov towers over its contemporary politics, the figure of Tamerlane dominates the national mythology of Uzbekistan. Nevertheless, opinion is not entirely unanimous on their contributions.

I asked a man in his early 40s who attended the same school as Karimov and was a native of the same quarter whether his fellow citizens were proud of the president. "Some people are proud of him," came the tight-lipped reply. That guarded comment echoed what I'd also heard about Tamerlane: "He is a national hero," a local businessman admitted, "but if we are going to be objective, according to historical sources he was very, very cruel."

For both men, the source of their power is almost certainly an inevitable flaring of Uzbek patriotism since independence. If it is to withstand the slings and arrows of present misfortunes, the new nation can comfort itself by looking backward to a glorious past (represented by Tamerlane) or ahead to a prosperous future (Karimov regularly holds court with western politicians who are attracted to Uzbekistan by its strategic location and its reserves of gold, uranium, and other natural resources).

The battered straw hats balanced on azure domes over ancient madrassas are nests long ago abandoned by storks. Thanks to a so-called "monoculture" of cotton production, Uzbekistan is the world's fourth largest grower of what's locally known as "white gold," but the price of agricultural success was steep. Sixty years of intensive crop irrigation ravaged a fragile environment of semi-arid plains and fertile river valleys. The Aral Sea, a giant inland lake in the country's remote northwestern corner, has shrunk dramatically.

Of more immediate concern to visitors, perhaps, is that Uzbekistan's Islamic monuments were ignored or, worse, ignorantly and inadequately restored during the Soviet period. To its credit, independent Uzbekistan has brought the matter to the world's attention, and received funding for recovery work from international agencies. Of further difficulty, however, is that most of the buildings, particularly in Samarkand, are cocooned in scaffolding and surrounded by earth-movers and cranes. Warnings, in patently thuggish English, are prominently posted: "The monument iz gaurd [sic] by state. The disturber will be hand to justice."

The Silk Road

The magnificent Silk Road proved to be a pockmarked and potholed highway. Driving toward Bukhrara, we flew past tumbledown rural villages and mud-brick caravanserais eaten by time and the elements. We glimpsed what seemed like a huge, shaggy dog following its master on a leash outside a nameless village in the desert. Yet the beast was just a bit thick-chested for an ordinary hound.

The dog on a leash proved instead to be a bear on a chain. Sharp-clawed and red-eyed, the animal reared on its hind legs on command, and growled fearsomely behind a leather muzzle. This bizarre pair of Silk Road ramblers conjured the sort of wacky spectacles that must have graced long-cold campfires at those derelict caravanserais.

Later, a peasant grandmother in her early 60s hitched a ride with us. Fazila was proud to describe her tenure as a delegate to the Supreme Soviet in the late 1970s, during which she successfully fought for construction of a primary school in her town.

Leonid Brezhnev, the Communist Party boss of that period, had kept peace and held prices down, she said. In those days, matches cost the same few kopeks in Bukhara as they did in Moscow. "I've got nothing from independence," Fazila forlornly concluded. "It's the end of the world now."

Having got her complaints off her chest, Fazila warmly invited us to lunch. We sat on the floor in a shabby farmhouse and shared with her family an impromptu meal of green tea, unleavened bread, home-picked pomegranates, and cherries preserved in brandy.

I asked about a strange sound coming from far-off, and Fazila's husband pointed to a telephone earpiece hanging from a wire against a window pane. A tiny voice buzzed ceaselessly: Karimov, I was told, and everyone continued eating.

Superstition

Islam, strictly speaking, rejects the supernatural, but mysticism and superstition seemed especially powerful forces in Bukhara. When I inquired about a haircut, I was told that I should only have it done on Wednesday or Saturdays (those were also good days for cutting my nails). At the Samani Mausoleum--a handsome, thousand-year-old structure of grey mud-bricks with a simple dome--I must walk around it three times for good luck. On the edge of town at a mosque and madrassa built by followers of Bahaudin Nakshbandi, a 14th-century Sufi teacher, pilgrims are instructed to enter a mosque courtyard with their right foot first, and leave with the left foot. Ragged ribbons and strips of cloth torn from shirt sleeves and skirt hems hung in a low tree limb. The knots were left with the promise that if a certain wish should be granted, the owners would return to untie them.

A bearded mullah sat beneath a tree to one side of Nakshbandi's simple crypt. Attempts to build a more grand mausoleum met with disaster until it was decided that "his roof is heaven."

The mullah chanted Koranic verses. He accepted gifts of melon, bread and jars of honey, and distributed bui -- like a French beignet and reputed to attract good spirits by its sweet smell. "Babies for the baby-less, luck for the luckless, peace for all the world" was the holy man's parting wish.

Bukhara's well-preserved old town was best appreciated at sunset from the lookout of the 150-foot Kalyan Minaret. Built in 1127, when it was probably the tallest building in the world, the minaret is charmingly known as the "Tower of Death." Criminals and the Amir's political opponents were executed in spectacular fashion when they were thrown from the tower. Stoddart and Conolly, the famous British prisoners, were beheaded, however, as a favor to them.

An unusually solemn city of 250,000, as quiet by day as it seemed now, ancient Bukhara succumbed to the spreading darkness. Kalyan's obscene shadow swelled across the recumbent rooftops. By the time I descended the tower--in the standard fashion, naturally--a crescent moon hung low above the muffled town. The tiled walls of the Mir-i-Arab Madrassa were tinted ruby, amber, and other jeweled hues.

Going to Uzbekistan

Lufthansa has the world's largest network of flights to Eastern Europe and Central Asia and the German airline flies to Tashkent from Frankfort twice weekly. In the U.S. and Canada, Lufthansa flies direct to Frankfurt from 13 gateway cities. For schedules and information, call (800) 645-3880 pr visit Lufthansa's website at www.lufthansa-usa.com.

Within Uzbekistan, Uzbekistan Airways operates daily shuttle services between Tashkent, Bukhara, Samarkand and several other cities. In December 1994, the FAA determined Uzbekistan's Civil Aviation Authority was in compliance with international safety standards. Tickets must be purchased in U.S. dollars. For schedules and information, contact Uzbekistan Airways, 630 Fifth Avenue, Suite 1401, New York, NY 10111, tel. (212) 489-3954 or 489-3956, fax. (212) 489-3962 or visit their website at www.uzbekistanairways.nl.

Visas and Entry Requirements

Visas may be obtained from the Embassy of the Republic of Uzbekistan, 1511 K Street, NW, Suite 619, Washington, DC 20005, tel. (202) 638-4266.

Visas are also issued at Tashkent Airport for a US $50 fee, as of this writing (a "requirement" to provide two passport photographs, in addition to the fee, was not enforced in our case). Before leaving Tashkent Airport, we paid a US $10 fee for what "officials" in plain clothes told us was a mandatory health insurance certificate; Uzbek friends said this was probably a scam.

Where to Stay

Private travel to Uzbekistan must be arranged either through the state-owned Uzbektourism agency (the local successor to the Soviet-run Intourist), or by invitation from a private citizen. Official hotels are rather expensive by local standards, and we heard complaints from Western travelers about such accommodations wherever we went. In particular, the Hotel Bukhara was said to be all but intolerable.

Lodging for the independent-minded traveler is limited. However, visitors may arrange comfortable bed and copious board through the Colorado-based American International Homestays. AIH places travelers in "homestays" at Tashkent, Bukhara, and Samarkand, where they stay in their own room at private homes and eat meals with the host family. An English-speaking family member also is available as a translator and guide. In Tashkent, our "family"--numbering three generations of Uzbeks from an elderly grandmother to a newborn--made us warmly welcome. We played with the children before dinner, then ate deliciously prepared Uzbek foods such as somsa (a meat and onion filled pie) and pilau, a flavorful dish of roasted lamb and rice mixed with chickpeas and strips of carrot and parsnip. To make us feel more at home, scratchy copies of Jethro Tull's Aqualung and assorted Beatles music blared from a hi-fi record player.

For information, contact American International Homestays Inc., P.O. Box 7178, Boulder, CO 80306. For information, contact tel. (800) 876-2048, (303) 642-3088; fax. (303) 642-3365. Or visit their web site at www.spectravel.com/homes.