Traveling around Uzbekistan

I’ve walked past museum cabinets filled with dusty rocks more times than I care to admit, but the natural history collections at Tashkent’

I used to think walnut wood was just, you know, walnut wood. Then I spent three weeks in Uzbekistan’s Fergana Valley watching an elderly craftsman

I used to think traditional music schools were all the same—dusty rooms, stern teachers, rigid technique drills. Then I stumbled into a classroom at Bukhara’

I used to think work songs were just background noise—something farmers hummed to pass the time. Turns out, in Uzbekistan’s agricultural heartlands

The Kyzylkum stretches across Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan like a wrinkled bedsheet someone forgot to smooth out. I used to think deserts were all the same—sand

Khiva doesn’t exactly scream “luxury resort destination” when you first glimpse its mud-brick walls from the road. I spent three weeks

I used to think soap was just soap. Then I spent an afternoon in a cramped workshop in Tashkent’s old quarter, watching a woman named Gulnara stir

I used to think ancient cities just built wells and hoped for the best. Then I spent three days wandering through Khiva’s inner city—Itchan Kala

I’ll be honest—I never thought I’d spend three weeks chasing plov across Tashkent, but here we are. The thing about plov is that it’

I used to think textile museums were just glorified fabric warehouses. Then I spent three hours in Bukhara’s Textile Museum, watching an elderly