Tashkent Through a Foggy Lens: A Photographer's Messy Notes

okay, so i'm in tashkent, and my camera's probably judging me for not cleaning the lens after that dust storm from yesterday. the weather's doing that thing where it's technically 12.5 degrees but feels like 11.77, which in photographer terms means my fingers are too stiff to focus properly. humidity's at 73%, so everything feels like it's wrapped in a damp blanket. i just checked and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. pressure's sitting at 1016 hpa, which is fine, but my equipment doesn't care about pressure, it cares about condensation.

i wandered into the old town, where the soviet blocks melt into mughal madness. someone told me that the plov at this hole-in-the-wall near chorsu bazaar is life-changing, but i heard from a local that the chef only works on tuesdays, so guess what, i'm here on a monday. classic. i ended up at a random chaikhana where they served tea in glasses so hot i nearly dropped it. the guy next to me said he's been coming here for thirty years and the tea hasn't changed, but the prices have. i believe him.

over by the kukeldash madrasah, a guy with too many cameras around his neck whispered that the best light for shots is at 5 pm, but then he tried to sell me a "genuine" samovar. i told him i only shoot digital, and he looked at me like i committed blasphemy. i shot the madrasah anyway, and the light was indeed golden, but my lens was fogging from the humidity. professional my ass.

if you get bored of tashkent's grey sprawl, samarkand's blue tiles are like, a six-hour marshrutka odyssey away. i'm itching to go, but my wallet's still recovering from the last "authentic" souvenir i bought - a hat that smells like diesel and regret. heard on a bus that the train to samarkand is cheaper but slower, and the views are worth the nausea. maybe next time.

yelp might tell you to hit up this cafe for coffee, but good luck finding it without a local. i followed a recommendation from a drunk brit at the hostel, and ended up in a place that served tea in beakers. science-themed chai? sure, why not. the wi-fi was slower than my grandma's dial-up, but the espresso was strong enough to develop film in. almost.

apparently, tripadvisor raves about the chorsu bazaar, but i think it's just a big pile of everything. i did find a roll of film for my old hasselblad, so that's a win. the bazaar is sensory overload - spices that make you sneeze, carpets that tell stories, and vendors who think every tourist is a millionaire. i haggled for ten minutes over a spoon and still overpaid. but hey, it's for the story.

i read on a local board that the metro stations here are like underground museums, but the one i visited had a leaked pipe and a guy playing accordion off-key. still, vibe's kinda cool. the chandeliers are gaudy enough to blind you, and the walls are marble enough to make you feel fancy while waiting for a train that never comes. someone warned me about pickpockets near the metro, but i think my camera bag screams "rob me" anyway.

oh, and i almost forgot, the ground level pressure is 920 hpa? whatever that means. my main concern is that my battery drains faster in this humidity. i should've invested in those weather-sealed lenses, but no, i had to save for that vintage nikkor.

anyway, if you're planning to come, pack layers, expect chaos, and don't trust anyone who says "it's just around the corner" in tashkent. that phrase means at least twenty minutes of dodging cars and praying for a zebra crossing. also, carry cash, and by cash i mean small bills because no one has change for a 100,000 sum note.

i heard from a local that the best shashlik is at a place with no sign, just a red door behind the post office. i found it, and it was legit. but the guy running it spoke zero english, so we communicated with hand gestures and a lot of pointing. food transcends language, i guess.

so yeah, tashkent is messy, beautiful, confusing, and i'm glad i'm here with a camera that's probably hates me. until next time, keep your lenses clean and your expectations lower.

i should add that the uzbek people are surprisingly patient with my terrible russian. i try to say 'spasibo' and they smile and say 'yelcome' in a way that makes me feel like a fool. but that's the charm, right? here, nothing is straightforward, and that's what i'm here for - the unpredictability.

plov is the staple, and i've had it three times in two days. each time, it's different - sometimes with more meat, sometimes with carrots that taste like they've been sitting for a week. but it's always filling. someone told me that the secret is in the oil, but i think it's in the company. i ate alone most of the time, so maybe that's why it tasted mediocre.

the mix of soviet brutalism and traditional islamic architecture is jarring, but in a good way. like, you turn a corner and bam, a blue-domed mosque next to a concrete block. it's like the city has multiple personalities, and none of them sleep.

kids on the street try to sell me newspapers i can't read, and old men in doppies offer 付步服务 for a fee. i politely decline, but one guy followed me for ten blocks explaining the history of every building. i gave him 5000 sum to leave me alone, and he smiled and said 'thank you for supporting local economy.' touché.

i stumbled upon this blog that has tips on navigating the bazaar, but some of it is outdated. still, the photos are cool.

check out the tashkent subreddit for real-time gossip, but take it with a grain of salt.

so there you have it, my messy notes from tashkent. hope you enjoyed the ramble.

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