After a restful overnight bus from Bishkek, I arrived in Tashkent—the capital of Uzbekistan—feeling a mix of curiosity and anticipation. The city was far larger and more spread out than Bishkek or Almaty, with grand avenues, wide boulevards, and a slightly more formal air. It felt like a city that had seen empires rise and fall—and was still standing proud.
First Impressions and Familiar Comforts
The morning light revealed Tashkent’s blend of the old and the new. I began by exploring Amir Timur Square, where a statue of the legendary conqueror stood imposingly over flower beds and fountains. The square itself felt more European than I expected—almost Parisian in scale—but with a distinct Uzbek flair.
For lunch, I tried naryn, a cold noodle dish with finely chopped horse meat. The flavours were subtle, and the texture surprisingly delicate. As in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, tea flowed freely and without fuss—always hot, never rushed.
In the afternoon, I walked through Broadway Street (Sayilgoh)—a lively pedestrian area with stalls, street artists and the distant sound of Uzbek pop music. I ended the day at a quiet park bench, watching locals enjoy the evening air, while I rested from the long journey and bustling atmosphere.
Underground Beauty and Local Life
On my second day, I descended into the Tashkent Metro, a Soviet-era marvel known for its ornate stations. Each stop was like a museum—chandeliers, mosaics, marble columns—completely unlike the practical, no-nonsense systems I was used to in Europe. I travelled mostly for the joy of the ride, hopping off at various stops just to admire the architecture.
Above ground, I explored Chorsu Bazaar, perhaps the most memorable market of my trip. Under the great blue-domed roof, vendors sold everything from spices and nuts to freshly baked non bread. I spent ages browsing, nibbling samples, and chatting in a mix of broken Russian and hand gestures. There was something earthy and authentic about it all.
For dinner, I found a cosy local place that served dimlama—a slow-cooked stew of meat and vegetables. It reminded me faintly of Maltese rabbit stew, though with a Central Asian twist. Tashkent, despite its size, was warm and welcoming.
Green Retreats and Reflections
I spent my final day in the Memory of Martyrs Park, a 17-hectare park and recreational area dedicated to those who suffered during periods of political repression, including Stalin’s purges. Locals strolled with children or sat reading on benches. After so many markets and cities, the peace of the park was deeply refreshing.
Later, I visited Minor Mosque, with its white marble and serene blue dome gleaming in the sun. Though I couldn’t enter the prayer area, the atmosphere was calm and dignified. Even as a foreigner, I felt at ease—respected, welcomed, and encouraged to simply observe.
That evening, I took a final walk along Mustaqillik Maydoni (Independence Square), passing government buildings, fountains, and war memorials as I reflected on my Central Asian journey.
Leaving Central Asia
Tashkent marked the final stop of my three-city adventure. From the leafy streets of Almaty to Bishkek’s quiet charm and Tashkent’s dynamic sprawl, each city had revealed a different face of Central Asia. As a Maltese traveller, I had come expecting the unfamiliar—and I left enriched by the contrasts, the landscapes, and the quiet pride of a region often overlooked.
This article is also featured on GPSmyCity. To download this article for offline reading or create a self-guided walking tour to visit the attractions highlighted in this article, go to Walking Tours and Articles in Tashkent.
