Traveling around Uzbekistan

I’ve spent enough time in Uzbekistan’s ancient cities to know that tourism doesn’t just change a place—it rewires it completely.

I used to think ancient cities operated on some mystical timeline, divorced from the practical rhythms that govern my own caffeine-dependent mornings.

I used to think Khiva was just another dot on the Silk Road map. Turns out, this ancient Uzbek city has become something of an unlikely laboratory for

I used to think plum wood was just for burning in tandoors. Turns out, the craftsmen in Uzbekistan’s Fergana Valley have been shaping it into intricate

I’ve stood in a lot of old prisons, but Zindan in Khiva hits different. The thing about Central Asian dungeons is that they weren’

I used to think brick buildings were pretty straightforward—stack them up, mortar in between, maybe throw in some arches if you’re feeling fancy.

I’ve wandered through Bukhara’s labyrinthine streets at dawn more times than I can count, camera in hand, chasing that perfect light as it

I’ve always thought caves were just dark holes in the ground until I went to Uzbekistan. Turns out, the country sits on some of the most dramatic

I used to think hardwood carving was all about precision—clean lines, perfect symmetry, the kind of work that makes you hold your breath.

I’ve watched a lot of bread get made in my life, but nothing quite prepares you for the first time you see someone reach into a tandir oven.