Uzbekistan: A Wardrobe for History.
If you’ve ever been tempted to check your passport and think, “I ought to go somewhere that makes my Instagram look like I time-travelled,” then come upon Uzbekistan. This country in the heart of Central Asia, where blue-tiled mosques and silk-swathed markets converge, and lots of history that would make your high school teacher cry, can all be smoldered down in one gloriously photogenic package. Samarkand, if you may because every itinerary is, for Uzbek travelers, the case. The city’s Registan Square is pretty much the Beyoncé of historical landmarks: confident, symmetrical, totally unfazed by the tourists snapping pictures of it from all sides. The mosaics glitter as if they just did a spa day and if you don’t know your Timur from your Tamerlane (spoiler alert: same dude) you’ll be impressed. It's the kind of place where one would half expect a caravan of camels to stroll past but nowadays it's more likely that it will simply consist of influencers with tripods. Bukhara, on the other hand, is like stepping into a theatrical set full of ancient films that never stopped. In the city there are madrasas, minarets and hammams that still faintly smell of centuries-old soap. It’s quieter than Samarkand but somehow more alive, like an old storyteller who doesn’t need to shout to keep your attention. The locals have that special blend of friendliness and entrepreneurial spirit; you’ll be offered tea before you know what’s going on and end up buying a handwoven carpet the size of your apartment. Then there’s Khiva, an open-air museum in excellent conservation that was once so remote it made Marco Polo appear punctual. The old town, Itchan Kala, is lit by mud-brick walls which glow gold at sunset. No matter how much you try to take a shot of a "bad photo," it does not come off as you ought. In fact, your phone battery will dry up long before that time. Every door, building and alley seems to whisper “this is the one for your feed.” On the surface, you'll smile but at your very core know that was really what's expected. Tashkent, the capital, presents a remarkable contrast to such ancient charm. It is clean, organized and full of wide boulevards, leafy parks, a metro system that acts as an art gallery. It is like someone took Soviet urban planning and gave it a soft pastel air. Yes, it lacks the romantic crumble of the Silk Road cities, but it certainly has good coffee, impressive museums, and air conditioning, which after a week in the desert feels positively divine. And oh, the food. Plov, Uzbekistan’s national dish, is a mound of rice, meat and carrots so scrumptious and satisfying it’s not hard to start doubting everything you’ve ever eaten in a salad. The bread is sacred, chewy and always perfectly round, the tea infinitely endless and served with a genuine hospitality to boot. By the time you leave Uzbekistan, you’ll have too many pictures, not enough luggage space, an odd impulse to start wearing patterned robes. You’ll tell your friend that you “discovered” a hidden jewel even though it has been dazzling travelers for more than two thousand years. But that’s okay. Uzbekistan isn’t afraid of the irony. It’s been patient. It knows beauty, charm and a good story never run out of fashion. |
