Traveling around Uzbekistan

The first time I saw someone scream down a near-vertical water slide, I thought: that’s either pure terror or pure joy, and honestly, I’

I used to think madrasahs were just prayer halls with a few students mumbling verses in the corner. Then I spent an afternoon in Khiva’

I used to think museums in remote border towns were just dusty afterthoughts—places where forgotten artifacts went to gather more dust. Then I spent an

I used to think ancient palaces were all about grandeur—marble columns, gold-plated everything, the works. Then I spent a week reading about Toprak Kala

I used to think prison museums were just dark rooms with rusty chains. The Zindan Prison Museum in Bukhara changed that assumption pretty quickly—turns

I used to think madrasahs were all the same—austere buildings where students memorized texts in silence. Then I spent an afternoon in Khiva’

Standing in front of Registan Square at dawn, watching the tiles shift from midnight blue to turquoise as the sun hits them—well, it’

The Islam Khodja minaret doesn’t whisper—it screams across Khiva’s skyline, a 57-meter turquoise exclamation point that you can’

I used to think Islamic architecture was all about domes and minarets until I spent three weeks wandering through Samarkand’s backstreets. Here’

I used to think maple wood was just for syrup and baseball bats. Turns out, in the Fergana Valley of eastern Uzbekistan—where the Tian Shan mountains scrape