Uzbek Impressions

Most visits to Uzbekistan will usually start and finish in the capital, Tashkent. You’ll fly into a modern airport. You’ll catch a modern taxi, most likely a Chevrolet. You’ll drive down decent roads with plenty of sturdy looking buildings on either side. That’s how our trip started and that was my first impression of Tashkent. It’s modern. This won’t come as a huge surprise to anyone who reads the history section of their travel guide prior to departure. Tashkent was leveled by an earthquake in the 1960s and rebuilt at great expense from the coffers of the Soviet Union.

It was also very noticeable just how clean the city is. I mean, it’s really, really clean. OCD levels of clean. There’s little in the way of litter or graffiti. The city is surprisingly green too. I didn’t expect it to be so green. It’s surrounded by arid desert and spends half the year baking in temperatures ranging from 30 to 50 degrees Celsius. It’s green for the same reason it’s clean – everything is constant sprayed with copious amounts of H2O.

Sprinklers every ten feet keep flower beds and grassy areas well watered, while trucks spray the streets each morning, washing dust and grime away. It’s quite an operation. I did wonder whether it’s a terribly sustainable operation, and a quick bit of research suggests that it’s extraordinarily unsustainable. Uzbeks I spoke to seemed fairly relaxed about the whole thing, which seemed a little bit surprising. But then this is a country which turned the worlds fourth largest lake into a small, poisonous puddle without blinking.

Those were my first impressions. Modern, green and impossibly clean. Which was nice. But truth be told, I was more interested to learn about the proverbial elephant in the room. Or should I say, the bear in the room. Uzbekistan was, of course, part of the Soviet Union. It remains part of the Commonwealth of Independent States. Russian is widely spoken, and there are plenty of folk of Russian descent in the country. We quickly learned that most cities have ‘Russian areas’.

I didn’t imagine that we’d have any significant issues, but anything Russian could, I supposed, be potentially awkward for a Western tourist. You know, given that Russia has turned into a fascist state, and an international pariah that decided at the start of the year to start poking and prodding Europe. It’s understandable that there would be some division of loyalties amongst the Uzbek citizenry. But in diplomatic circles, Uzbekistan has been a fairly outspoken critic of Putin’s invasion. To their credit.

Hundreds of thousands, perhaps now millions, of Russians have fled Putin’s regime so far this year. Uzbekistan has been a popular destination amongst those looking to resettle. I’m not sure I met any of those folk though. Perhaps, in coffee shops or restaurants. But there’d be no sure way of me knowing the circumstances of guys and gals sipping on their lattes beyond asking them. And I wasn’t about to pry.

But there were clearly plenty of Russians on their holidays, staying in the same hotels as Mrs P and I. And why not? It would make sense. For all the reasons I’ve given about how welcoming Uzbekistan is. Plus the one obvious reason that I haven’t given, but shouldn’t need to. I mean, where do you think Russians can go on holiday in 2022, beyond a dacha in Chechnya? The options are rather limited for international travel if your starting point is Moscow or St Petersburg.

So were saw plenty of Russians. And they are a miserable effing bunch. Properly insolent, rude and sulky. Not a single one made any attempt at eye contact. Not one of them returned a friendly greeting in an elevator. Not a single smile in a hotel lobby. Nothing. Nada. Nichego takogo. On the plus side, this meant there were no awkward conversations. I didn’t have to listen to a fascist claim that Ukraine had been taken over by Nazis. I didn’t have to explain how thoroughly fucked Russia is, thanks to their dear leader, Adolf Putin.

But most importantly, I was not on the receiving end of any grenades, artillery shells, radioactive teas or novichok smeared door knobs. Russian fascism is not a prominent feature that a traveller needs to be concerned about on the Silk Road in 2022. Next year? Well, who knows where this all leads…