Traveling around Uzbekistan

I used to think macrame was just something my aunt did in the 1970s with ugly plant hangers. Turns out, in Bukhara—this ancient Silk Road city in Uzbekistan—knotting isn’

I used to think Central Asia was just deserts and nomads, maybe a few crumbling mosques. Turns out, Uzbekistan sits at the crossroads of practically everything

I used to think deserts were just sand and silence. Then I saw photographs of Moynaq—or what’s left of it—and realized deserts can be made of rust

The road east from Samarkand doesn’t announce itself with fanfare. I’ve cycled through maybe a dozen countries at this point, and I can tell

The tiles hit you first—brilliant blue and white majdica work that seems to pulse in the afternoon heat. I’ve walked through a lot of historical

The phoenix on the Nadir Divan Begi Madrasah doesn’t look like any phoenix I’ve ever seen in Islamic art. I stood in Bukhara’

I used to think fabric scraps were just—well, scraps. Then I spent three weeks in Bukhara’s old city, watching a woman named Dilbar stitch together

I never thought I’d spend three hours watching an 87-year-old man paint a ceramic plate. But here’s the thing—traditional Uzbek crafts aren’

I’ve spent the better part of three summers scrambling up limestone walls around Tashkent, and honestly, most people don’t realize Central

The thing about Khiva is that every corner looks like someone’s carefully curated desktop wallpaper, except it’s real. I’