Ticking off a bucket list in Uzbekistan

Doomscrolling to sleep is such a sport. Either you doze off or stay super awake to dive deeper into something you find interesting. 

Uzbekistan was the latter for me.

I saw a picture of an intricately crafted structure, which is a madrasah, or a school. I could already imagine how gorgeous it would be up close. 

I fell down the rabbit hole of researching this country and was fully convinced to add it to my travel bucket list. 

I’ve told friends that if and when the chance arises, I’d visit Uzbekistan. 

Lo and behold, the chance arrived in the form of a holiday invitation.

 My friends invited me to join them during the Christmas holidays. 

Exhilaration coursed through me. The madrasahs, the food, people, culture and winter! Oh my God!!!

I smile whenever I recall my excitement before the trip, beaming even, when I get to the part where my imaginations were splendidly shattered by reality.

Uzbekistan, you are a wonderful surprise.

When we arrived, our driver told us we were lucky to have come just in time. The city was covered in soft white snow. We were giddy, even though it was one degree Celsius, late at night, and we were exhausted from travelling.

I had seen snow before in Georgia, but I had never experienced a proper snowfall.

There was a chance of snow at Amirsoy Ski Resort according to the forecast, but nothing prepared us for how it would feel when the first snowflakes landed on our cheeks. Time slowed. Everything felt cinematic. 

The world looked sharper, almost unreal. 

We stood there, looking up, letting the cold flakes kiss our faces, smiling with misty eyes. 

Anywhere we go is a perfect setting for pictures. 

The scenery was as magnificent as our mood.

For a brief moment, I thought about what it must have felt like for Neil Armstrong when he landed on the moon. That overwhelming excitement. The instinct to call home and say, “I can’t believe what I am seeing. I wish you were here to witness it with me.”

We called our families and showed them the perfect white canvas. Joy, when shared, doubles, and experiencing the snowfall felt like a milestone we had to tell our loved ones about. 

Eventually, we stopped taking pictures. 

We simply stood there. 

The cold on my skin. 

The stillness in the air. 

The way the world seemed to pause for a moment.

I sighed. I can’t believe this wasn’t a dream.

I was filled with gratitude and a longing to share this experience with my family in person. 

How fulfilling would that be!

Too Cool for School

What surprised me most was not just the snow itself, but how it made me feel.

There was childlike joy, but also a grown-up awareness. 

A reminder of how rare moments like this really are, and how easily we rush past wonder in fear of becoming too human, too unoriginal, too uncool, or too ignorant. 

Why do we have to act unmoved?

Why should we be snobs? 

Social media has us thinking that being unimpressed and nonchalant is cool. 

Our experiences aren’t entirely unique, but how we process, interpret, and cherish them makes them rare and totally ours. 

Also, isn’t it isolating to have unique experiences that no one could relate to or understand? 

Shared experiences break boundaries.

Sometimes, even ice.

Stop. Look! Slow down. 

Snowfall was one of the highlights of our trip. Being there with friends made the freezing temperature more enjoyable and bearable. 

After all, misery, when shared, diminishes. 

There was laughter, shared disbelief, and an unspoken thought we all seemed to share. Are we really experiencing this?

Uzbekistan gave us many firsts, including our first bullet train ride.

The journey from Tashkent to Samarkand was one for the books. There were several moments when I felt like I was in a Hallmark movie.

I already had a story in mind: a small-town girl, ambitious, who went to the city, works her ass off for a better life and had to go home for Christmas after 5 years of non-stop grinding. 

The plot thickens, so does the snow. I would meet a cute guy in the local cafe, who didn’t know I was the town’s little darling. 

His dad and mine were long-time friends, but didn’t get in touch until recently when business was in deep waters. 

We nearly filled our phone storage just recording the bullet train ride, watching the landscape shift outside the window.

Samarkand, you outdid yourself.

Finally got to see the stunning architectures that would always pass on my Facebook feed as I doomscroll to oblivion. I thought I was prepared to marvel at their beauty, but I was still speechless and awestruck at every nook and cranny of this old city.

Samarkand is already splendid as it is, but can you imagine how glorious the city was 2,700 years ago? Mindblowingly exquisite!

With every story of bravery our tour guide shared, my fascination with Central Asia grew deeper. To know Uzbekistan is to understand how Turkestan was divided into the -stan countries today.

What stood out most was the Uzbek people’s pride in their heritage. They spoke about their history as if they were there alongside their forefathers. 

Our guide, in particular, was deeply passionate. He didn’t just share stories and the history of Uzbekistan. 

He wanted us to understand what made it beautiful. 

So beautiful we wonder how the trees dance the streets in summer or how the lakes quench the land in spring. 

Stories and anecdotes intrigued us enough to fantasize about going here every season just to be a part of the secret club of the locals. 

People, you are neighborly. 

Uzbek people warmed our winter. They weren’t openly endearing as my people, but they were helpful and direct. 

They’re like your neighbors across the hall who barely smile but would open their door in case you lock yourself out of your apartment.

They accommodate tourists, but they do not bend their rules, which I appreciated.

You could see how they went about their lives, busy and purposeful, yet they never turned a blind eye if you needed help. I admired how they got things done while still making time to drink their tea, catch up with friends and family or in our case, get in a snowball fight with tourists.

It felt comforting and validating to be treated as friends by local guides. You cannot pay their genuine interest in your life in UZS. 

However, you can attempt to exchange stories over steaming plates of plov and lamb chops (which are to die for, btw). Or sweeten the deal by offering to show them around once they visit Dubai.

Uzbekistan. This country isn’t somewhere I’d consider visiting if I’m still in the Philippines. Proximity is familiarity. My old self would stupidly have it mixed with other stan country that is easier to remember and pronounce.

Now, I won’t even dare mispronounce or misidentify this beautiful country. I was reminded of the importance of identity, especially from someone with a rich history. 

A trip doesn’t always have to be life-altering to be beautiful or memorable. 

Uzbekistan was a lovely reminder that, though the world is big, you can still end up in a charming place, throwing snowballs with your friends.