The majority of people who visit Uzbekistan probably have Samarkand, Bukhara, and Khiva on their minds when they plan a trip to this country. Understandably so, given the sheer number of impressive centuries-old mosques, madrasahs (Islamic educational institutions), bazaars, city walls, and ruins each of these historic cities boasts. Meanwhile, a stay in the nation’s capital Tashkent is often treated as merely a necessary stopover before continuing one’s journey to the former Silk Road trading hubs. This is due to the city’s role as the country’s main gateway to the world, with its international airport serving flights to destinations across Asia, the Middle East, Europe, and even North America.

Admittedly, this was also what James and I did. Arriving at night in Tashkent from Jakarta (when Uzbekistan Airways still flew nonstop to the Indonesian capital) was not ideal since neither of us had been to this part of the world before. The stories about the Uzbekistani capital that I read from a memoir written by an Indonesian journalist who had worked and traveled extensively in this region many years ago, before the Central Asian countries began to open up to foreign tourists, certainly didn’t help. In his book, Tashkent was depicted as a rough and rather unsafe city where the author himself experienced violent crime that could’ve ended worse for him.

We didn’t know what to expect as we stepped out of the arrival hall of the airport with Uzbekistani sum banknotes in our hand. We walked for a few minutes trying to locate the taxi stand, and moments later we stumbled upon a middle-aged taxi driver who was looking for customers. “Korea?” a local woman sitting nearby asked us. “Indonesia,” we replied. With a big grin she then relayed our answer to the man, and shortly after we were already on our way to the hotel through the unfamiliar streets of Tashkent.

Almost two weeks later, when we returned to the city after exploring the country’s ancient Silk Road trading posts, we encountered a similar drill. “Where do you come from?” a stern-looking young security officer asked me before the turnstiles at Toshkent metro station, located right next to the city’s main train station. We woke up around 3am that day to catch the 5am express train (not the high-speed train) from Bukhara to Tashkent. So, when I was suddenly questioned by him, my brain had not been fully awake to process it. “Bukhara,” I instinctively replied. “No, I am from Bukhara,” he quickly responded. It took me a few seconds to finally realize what he was truly asking me. “Oh, Indonesia!” I corrected my answer as soon as I got what he meant. It was then followed by a friendly laugh among the three of us.

Despite what I had read about the Uzbekistani capital prior to the trip, the Tashkent we encountered was far from being intimidating. It was definitely not a Southeast Asian city where the people are generally friendly and smiling, but it was nowhere near as sinister as what I had read before. And that was a good start. What wasn’t so great about our visit to Tashkent, however, turned out to be the weather.

In both of our stays in the city – at the beginning and toward the end of our trip to Uzbekistan – we made sure to book accommodation that is within walking distance to a metro station. So, naturally that was where we started our exploration. Tashkent itself was an important center of trade and education during the height of the Silk Road. But a powerful 1966 earthquake that struck right beneath the central part of the city caused massive destruction to most of its historic buildings. The Soviets then rebuilt the city soon after, which also came with the planning for the Tashkent Metro, the seventh metro system built in the Soviet Union, as well as the first in Central Asia.

I had read about the beautiful, and often whimsical, design of some of the city’s metro stations. But pictures of them only began to emerge in the middle of 2018 as the government lifted the decades-old ban on photography in the metro system following its declassification as military infrastructure. (However, this limitation seemed to still be in place when a fellow blogger went there in 2019.) The inclement weather during our stay was even more reason for us to explore this underground world beneath what is today the most populous city in Central Asia that is home to more than three million people. As we began taking pictures with our cameras, I looked around trying to gauge the situation. Some security personnel did stare at us, but they quickly looked away, seemingly unfazed by the sight of tourists doing something that for a long time was illegal.

First, there is Alisher Navoiy with its ornate dome ceilings that allude to the old buildings from the Silk Road era. Named after the prominent 15^th-century Timurid poet, linguist, painter, and mystic, the station is also decorated with beautiful tiles depicting scenes from the Khamsa, a collection of five epic poems which include Layla and Majnun, a love story that is popular in the Arab, Persian, and Turkic worlds – an Islamic and much older version of Romeo and Juliet, if you will. Then there is Paxtakor (the letter x is pronounced as “kh” in the Uzbek language), a station embellished with colorful mosaic tiles of stylized cotton flowers. The name itself means “cotton grower” in Uzbek, an homage to the economically important crop that contributes to around 7% of the country’s exports.

Another metro station with unique decorations is Kosmonavtlar. Its cosmonaut theme will immediately catch your attention as illustrations of Yuri Gagarin and Valentina Tereshkova – the first man and woman in space – adorn the station’s walls. The shades of blue along the horizontal lines of the tilework imply the multiple layers of Earth’s atmosphere. On the other hand, Chilonzor is bedecked with medieval-style gilded chandeliers that evoke a bygone era, while Novza’s hexagonal light fixtures will bring you to yet a different period in history. This miscellany, however, didn’t stop at the architectural and decorative styles of the metro stations. The rolling stock, too, consisted of at least three varieties: from the decades-old Soviet-made electric carriages to the sleek and spacious trains made by Metrowagonmash, a Russian transport machine manufacturer.

Navigating the Tashkent Metro during rush hour was no mean feat. But as long as you know where to go and when to turn, you should be fine. We joined the commuters who made beelines for whichever directions they needed to take, synchronized our pace with them, and kept walking with a certain degree of confidence so that we wouldn’t disrupt the rhythm of the locals. Although Uzbekistan has officially adopted Latin for its writing system, it would certainly be helpful if you can read Cyrillic since some places still have their names written in this script, a hangover from the Soviet era.

But you don’t think we spent our time in Tashkent only underground, do you?

Unlike in Bukhara and Khiva where the weather was perfect, the skies over Tashkent were persistently gray and gloomy during our stay. Luckily, the metro network reaches some places we wanted to check out so we didn’t have to worry too much about getting drenched in rain while exploring the city. Amir Timur Square is perhaps the most important square in the Uzbekistani capital where the statue of the founder of the Timurid dynasty stands today, replacing the likeness of Karl Marx, which itself was installed to take the place of a figure of Stalin. Behind it is the infamous Hotel Uzbekistan which was commissioned as part of the reconstruction of Tashkent following the devastating earthquake. Completed in 1974, this prime example of Brutalist architecture in Central Asia has now become something of a landmark of the city.

Meanwhile, in another part of Tashkent there was a more interesting place to emerge from the depths of the metro. We were trying to get to Chorsu Bazaar, but as we exited the station we found ourselves standing in the middle of a labyrinth of makeshift stalls that was like an extension of the main market itself. When we finally managed to escape the maze, we were presented with a large half-dome structure under which hundreds of vendors vied for customers. The lower section of the bazaar was filled with a variety of stalls selling dairy products, pickled vegetables, poultry, and meat, among other things. Upstairs was arguably where most tourists went since it was primarily occupied by vendors of dried fruits, nuts, as well as sweets which we ended up buying.

If anything, Chorsu Bazaar was almost like a microcosm of Uzbekistan. You can find foodstuffs and delicacies from different parts of the country. Obviously, we saw many pomegranates, a fruit that originates in the Iranian plateau but is now much-loved by different cultures in the Turkic world – of which Uzbekistan is a part. We also saw apples, a fruit that is easily found worldwide today but is actually native to Central Asia. Through the entirety of this trip, we learned that the culinary tradition of this country is a lot more storied and appetizing than what stereotypes suggest. It’s a wonderful world which I cannot wait to show you in my next, and final, post from Uzbekistan.