Indulging our Soviet Nostalgia in Tashkent
After spending several days in Samarkand, we took a train to Tashkent. Since we try to alternate periods of sightseeing and just living, we now wanted to simply spend some time living in a Russian-speaking place. Samarkand, of course, existed in the same Soviet space as Tashkent — its center is filled with Soviet monumental “architecture,” and many people speak Russian. Yet today it has a strong Central Asian flavor — the songs in the party restaurant are mostly in Uzbek, there’s more Tadzhiks than ethnic Russians, and the bazaar is decidedly exotic. Tashkent, on the other hand, is far more tethered to its Soviet past.
One foot in the Soviet past
Indeed, Tashkent feels like a somewhat modernized and more polite version of the Soviet Union of our childhood. It was largely re-built in the Soviet period because a massive earthquake in 1966 destroyed most of the city. This gave the communist regime an opportunity to rebuild it according to the Party’s vision. Although, some pre-Soviet neighborhoods remain — the Old City ( Mahalla - meaning neighborhood in Uzbek), with its narrow and winding streets designed to confuse and disorient marauding invaders, is a stark contrast to what has been built since.
Thus, Tashkent has the typical monumental buildings in its center (old obligatory international hotel and new convention center)
and the nearly equally massive residential buildings, encircling courtyards with sad playgrounds and dilapidated cars. They are the same mass-produced Khruschevki of our childhood, in the similar — but advanced — state of disrepair. Except that now, they are bristling with air conditioners and satellite dishes
As in Samarkand, there is a (presumably also Soviet-rooted?) obsession with outdoor cleanliness — armies of broom-toting grandmas (and non-grandmas!) were constantly sweeping streets, stairs, driveways.
There are Soviet-era WWII memorials, solemn in their iron heaviness, softened by the deep autumn foliage (the brass books of names of the fallen are an unexpected touch, in contrast to the classic Soviet “unknown soldier” memorials)
Just as grand are the memorials under ground, also known as subway stations, particularly the famed Kosmonaut station
Looking around, it’s as if someone tried to rewind time backwards, but the time machine jammed halfway, so that the past is partially obtruding onto today, bringing with it 80's Zhiguli and Moskvichi and buying milk and Kaymak (clotted cream) from the back of a truck, funneled into your BYOBottles from kegs, one ladle at a time
Yet some things remain stubbornly modern. Jarringly, these Soviet relics coexist with American hipster coffee shops charging American hipster prices, fleets of app-based scooters (still barely used), and Rodeo drive boutique store fronts
Luckily for us, in Tashkent, modernity does not mean retreat from Russian language and influence. English is making some inroads too, with “International” schools sprinkled about, but we rarely had a need to use it and almost never heard it spoken. We even found a Russian-speaking puppetry theater, which was mostly cute and innocent but with a brief interlude of psychedelic horror that surely left Тайна долины змей-like scars on half the kids
Both Masha and I found it surprisingly gratifying to converse with everyone in Russian, our first language. Beyond simply being able to communicate effortlessly after four months of seeking to be barely understood (with various degrees of success), there was an unexpected bonus of pleasure. It felt something like getting to playing a sport one had mastered long ago….but after a long break.
The food!
Finally, another benefit of the Soviet legacy is the food. Soviet cuisine absorbed the best dishes of its republics and so Uzbek plov is deeply embedded in our consciousness. And, in tandem, Tashkent also has food from the other former republics. While the city offers a varied culinary scene, it’s worth highlighting three experiences.
Plov (aka Osh)
We had our first taste of proper plov in Samarkand, but I wanted to taste as many of its incarnations as possible (my college roommate was from Tashkent, and his kazanchik left an indelible impression). And while you can get it all over the city, I was determined to find the authoritative version of the dish, and so I did.
Behold, Do’mbrobod Osh. Way on the outskirts of the city, it is the real deal. Like in Mahalla Osh in Samarkand, little Russian is spoken here but, luckily, the menu is straightforward — you’re getting PLOV. All you have to do is pick the sides and toppings. The restaurant’s giant hall completely fills up at lunch time, almost exclusively with Uzbeks. But with three giant cauldrons going simultaneously, the food making is remarkably efficient.
And just $3 gets you this glorious heaping dish (I asked for “without fat”)
There is no roast garlic or cumin here, but the copious juicy carrots, chewy, glistening rice and the tender, falling apart beef are out of this world. Though I was still recovering from a bad stomach infection, my time in Tashkent was running out, and I was not going to miss out on this!
Georgian food
Aside from Osh, the most memorable food experience in Tashkent was definitely “Хачапури House” and its mind-blowing Adjarian Khachapuri (yes, its common in Uzbekistan to mix Cyrillic and Latin alphabets, which Google Maps handles effortlessly; another hilarious example was the burger place “Бургерная Farш”)
This freshly-baked Khachapuri is the sort of thing that would have sent Anthony Bourdain into a paroxysm of orgasmic groans. Although, perversely, when he visited Georgia in Parts Unknown, he somehow missed out on it! Maybe his producers thought he would go permanently catatonic from ecstasy if he tried it. …
Completely different from the other types of khachapuri (even at this restaurant), which tasted pretty flat and a little dry, the Adjarian version is extremely rich with the savory sulguni cheese sumptuously mixing with the egg, butter, and steaming soft crust. Similar to pizza in its ingredients, this particular version reaches gustatory heights that pizza (even, say, when made by Pizzeria Da Michele) can only dream of.
Did I mention it was rich? Even between the three of us, finishing it was a challenge. Towards the end, Masha visibly slowed down, almost coming to a standstill, as if the gooey richness were gunking up her gears (this picture is actually a 2-second gif). But I’m happy to say we rose to the challenge, and none of it was wasted (at least the first time).
It should be noted that not all versions will necessarily attain such perfection. Ordering the same dish at another (more highly rated) Georgian restaurant brought disappointment, although they did have a spectacular beef stew dish
We have to go to Georgia!
Oblepiha (sea buckthorn??) tea
Perhaps not on the level of plov or khachapuri, I was nevertheless blown away by this pot of oblepiha tea at the otherwise unremarkable Maurice cafe
It was known in Russia, and I think I’ve had something like this before. But this version of the brew was stunning — rich rather than watery (like the vast majority of herbal teas), with a juicy and unique flavor, it was a rare great beverage that is neither caffeinated, sweet, carbonated, or alcoholic.
The Post-Soviet era
With the Soviet era receding in the rear view mirror, Uzkbekistan’s national identity is resurgent. Amir Timur’s statue stands in the center of the main city square under the Soviet-era hotel and new convention center,
while massive new mosque construction highlights Uzbekistan’s Islamic identity, even housing one of the oldest Korans in the world (bottom right),
and in the Mustakillik (Independence) Square, Lenin memorials have been replaced with new stunning monuments to peace
Economically, Tashkent is on the ascendancy. Outside the center, there’s massive construction on seemingly every block, as new residential buildings and high rises are going up. But fast economic growth has a cost. Likely as a result, Tashkent suffers one of the worst pollution levels in the world (turns out, it’s rated as tenth capital city in the world for worst annual pollution!). There is a baseline smell of burning and exhaust which goes away only after rain, but gets much worse on some evenings.
Aside from wildfires in California, we've been lucky enough to never encounter anything like it (even when we visited Mumbai ten years ago). Apparently it's mostly from cars, which in addition burning methane in many cases (at least in Samarkand), also might be lacking catalytic converters (google yielded nothing on this question). In a striking change from Europe, there are virtually no motorcycles or mopeds (apparently they were banned until recently), and bicycles are used exclusively for food delivery, which obviously increases the number of cars on the road.
And cars are king of the road here. Although most side streets are cramped one lane affairs, continuously ensnaring people driving into or out of their courtyards, primary streets in the centers of both Samarkand and Tashkent are kind of magical. Generously wide, three and four lane boulevards, one moment they will be clogged with barely crawling traffic. Then suddenly, a street cop (милционер) will wave his wand, blow the whistle, and the entire street empties out (the two phenomena are obviously related). And they do this at the drop of a hat, or rather - on the Uzbek prime minister’s whim - which makes planning trip times a challenge.
Which brings us to street cops. When they are not randomly closing off streets, their calling is to stand in the middle of (traffic light-regulated) intersections, and help drivers understand that green light means go, and red really means stop, and you can turn left on green only if there is no oncoming traffic — all with whistling in varying degrees of shrillness. Now you might ask, if there is a functioning street light, why is this noise pollution necessary? Unclear. Even the taxi drivers don’t know — they just take it as a given (“now you got me thinking!” said one). Perhaps it’s a holdover from the Soviet days, where the state even had to exercise power over traffic flows. May be it’s a core subject in police academies that no one dares to remove. But they do take their whistles seriously. We can attest to this because living for three days next to a middle sized intersection in Samarkand, it went on from morning to evening, when the road wasn’t shut down for Macron. Curiously, intersections that actually need manual regulation, say when traffic lights are out of order, escape their attention
Perhaps actually regulating traffic didn’t make it into their curriculum?
In some aspects, Tashkent, at least, is accelerating toward the West. This was most obvious in its coffee culture. Coffee Nation was a real standout
With excellent filter coffee, innovative espresso drinks (sage cappuccino?!) and a great space to hang out, we kept coming back here time after time. But there are many other places nearby where coffee is taken as seriously as in San Francisco or New York.
Western entertainment is likewise making inroads. Masha found a pretty awesome escape room
And we had a great time bowling
In terms of cocktails, it is definitely early days, as cocktails are a wholly foreign concept here. But I was gratified to find a solitary seed of the future in Maqom Bar, an upscale restaurant with nightly live music. This place is full of surprises. From the flawlessly executed American jazz classics followed by jazzified renditions of contemporary pop songs (Umbrella, really?),
to the Chaplin movies projected onto the wall; to the menu mapping out their cocktail offerings by fruitiness and strength (nice!)
to the professionalism of their mixology. I asked, do you make your own fejoia cordial — “of course, what kind of an establishment do you think this is?” Where else are you going to find a sorrel (щавель) drink?
In the end, what was it like to stay in Tashkent? Having traveled now for almost six months, most of the places we have visited have been tourist-oriented, whether local or international, with a large proportion of the population overtly enjoying life — chilling at cafes, relaxing on the beach, etc. But even compared to the few places where we were mostly surrounded by middle class locals (Bologna, Osaka, Karaköy), Tashkent seemed to have a sort of patina of grim austerity, as if the population here is primarily focused on the business of surviving. We could never quite put a finger on what exactly gave us this impression…
But, as elsewhere in our travels, we were buoyed and cheered by the people we interacted with. Our friend Anya’s parents live in Tashkent and were incredibly generous and supportive. They picked us up from the train station on the first day and spent the rest of the day with us, touring the city sites. And when I later got sick, Tatyana was instrumental in helping me navigate Tashkent's confusing medical system and insisted on coming over to check on me and bring comfort food for recuperation. For this, their care and warmth — we are so grateful!
