DISCOVERING TASHKENT - UZBEKISTAN TRAVEL

The border region between Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan, which endured a border conflict a few weeks earlier, was alarmingly found less than 60 miles south of Kokand and 35 miles south-west of Rishtan- the home of ceramics in the country- where I’d just been. Fortunately, on the western side of the Tien Shan range, lies the Pskem Mountains, which separate the two countries and acts as a natural barrier. Nevertheless, it was all too close for comfort. From the buzzing industrial town of Kokand in the south, the final leg of my journey would take me north to the capital, Tashkent where I would spend my final days in the country.

It was widely known among locals that one of two cheapest ways to reach the capital was to go by train, so I took on the adventure. I hopped out of the taxi which had drawn up to the train station, heaved my heavy backpack onto my shoulders and went through the security procedures. In much of Europe, no security measures are put in place for passengers entering a train station but it makes more than enough sense. The train station was small and basic but it fulfilled its job for holding waiting passengers.

Finally, just as dusk arrived, a battered, old green train came rolling into the station. On board, the conditions were absolutely fine, much like that of European trains with comfortable seats, opening windows and, all importantly, an emergency exit. To my relief the trip was going to be safe.However, I had placed myself in the wrong seat and therefore I was suddenly hoisted from my perfectly comfortable position with my backpack and escorted through four carriages, with a series of knacked doors at each end, to the back of the train where I was hastily shoved into a four-seated tabled room alongside an Uzbek woman and a young, loving Russian couple sitting opposite. There, I tried to settle into the dull, four-hour journey. I didn’t feel as content here as back in the economy carriage - it was hot and stuffy and I felt awkward about where to look with two strangers facing me.

A tired-looking TV was illuminated above each pair of seats, showing a mix of romantic Uzbek music videos and dramatic comedies but unfortunately the volume was muted. At least moving pictures was better than staring at a blank wall I thought to myself. Darkness quickly descended so it was almost impossible to see any of the towns, villages and nature along the way which you would have inevitably seen had it been light.

Finally, the bright city lights of Tashkent appeared through the window and we knew it was only a matter of time before we arrived. The train carefully pulled into the North-serving train station and a taxi driver quickly swept me up and took me to the Old Inn Hostel. The hostel room was small and cramped with ten men sleeping in one small room. Belongings were scattered on the floor and on a wooden table but for the two-night stay it would be fine. Mid-morning the next day, I went to explore Tashkent with an intention to go swimming. I followed the routes of four swimming pools in the city on my phone but none of them were in operation - one was still under construction, another was closed, a third was locked up and the fourth was non-existent. Despite these setbacks, I could still discover some of this great city. Long, wide streets with flashy, modern clothes and beauty shops and restaurants were occasionally intersected by giant mosques.

My next target was to try to find a tennis club. I found myself among several crowds of Friday prayer worshippers walking to their mosques and swarms of young students pouring out of two universities, some in smarter wear than others, all enjoying the mild, sunny weather, which was blessing this Friday lunchtime. The city was busy with two lines of traffic, mostly made up of white cars to protect themselves from the summer heat, flowing in both directions. I finally arrived at a pretty park near the centre of the city. Everything looked perfect - the river flowed under a bridge and a small Islamic minaret could be seen perched on a small hill in the centre and the odd person was minding their own business. From there, I walked until eventually I stumbled upon a small grocery market and shopping centre in what felt like more of a tight-knit neighbourhood of Tashkent. The area was packed full of different types of stores selling things marked by a big bronze statue of a local hero imposingly keeping an eye on everyone.

After an hour of sitting on a bench passing the time, I called a taxi in my quest to find the tennis facilities. We swiftly arrived at the entrance to the National Tennis Centre of Uzbekistan, a large, grand complex consisting of a huge dome in the middle full of indoor tennis courts and around six immaculately laid hard courts. It is where top ATP player Denis Istomin, who has competed in numerous Grand Slam events, trained for several years and still trains now.

Yet I would have to go to another place because these were too expensive. Not far was the Republic Olympic

Reserve consisting of a swimming pool, athletics track and tennis courts, which once was destined to produce sports champions in the future but fell into disrepair. It was decorated with the five colourful Olympic rings logo over its entrance.The four hard courts there were fine and the generous taxi driver’s bargaining with the court fee allowed me to play with a friendly local youngster. After the match, it was dark and the long walk back to the hostel took me along two long very busy roads. Youths gathered in groups and giggled and chatted loudly in the streets outside the endless convenience stores which lined the streets while the traffic roared past into the Saturday night darkness.

My final day in Tashkent took me to the downtown area for some last-minute sightseeing. A couple of Russians who had escaped the army mobilisation by Putin forcing them to join the war in Ukraine were staying at the same hostel. They invited me to go on a wander so we took a busy metro from our district straight into the heart of the city. The weather here was once again mild and sunny, gently shining through the trees and creating a dappled effect as we slowly walked along the street but it was incredibly quiet, as though the population was yet to rise from its slumber. We strolled past a number of important-looking government buildings and some magnificent mosques and statues which have adorned the city for decades. We rather abruptly arrived into a busy Sunday morning market, full of a hive of activity and traders shouting out to get their next customer.

The waft of barbecuing shashlik, a type of shish kebab, pleasantly filled our nostrils and there were countless numbers of stalls selling cucumbers, peppers, broccoli, carrots, carriages and different types of fruit as well as freshly baked lepyoshki, a common soft, round bread native to Central Asia. We eventually stumbled on a bustling food court selling all types of typical Uzbek food. It was more of a quick eat-and-go place rather than a restaurant sit down but the food was cheap. We enjoyed a traditional meat and vegetable soup and delicious plov, a type of fried rice with horsemeat, carrots and onions all mixed together. I thought to myself it was a perfect way to end off a fascinating yet exhausting adventure to Uzbekistan.

Thomas Hunt

A 2020 University of Derby Journalism graduate with a 2:1 degree. Professionally, he writes in-depth personal experiences of countries he has travelled to or volunteered in, and highlights the various wins and social challenges they face. Have previously written and published content for Conversation Over Borders, a platform which highlights refugees extraordinary experiences; Visit Greece, a tourist site promoting the best of Greece, and a couple of other smaller sites.