"It Opens Itself To You, Quietly": The Unfiltered Beauty of Uzbekistan

When London-based, Croatian photographer Deana Kotiga travelled across Uzbekistan, she found a country that was curious, welcoming and warm.

Kotiga and a friend began their trip in the capital Tashkent, in east-central Uzbekistan. They then flew to Karakalpakstan in the north-west, exploring ancient desert fortresses. From there they travelled east by train to Khiva, then onto the former Silk Road hubs of Bukhara and Samarkand, before looping back to Tashkent.

"It felt remarkably quiet for a country that is so safe, welcoming, and full of incredible food"

"Tourists were scarce. We met just two American couples in their fifties, fulfilling a lifelong dream of exploring the Silk Road, and a Chinese–Dutch couple living in the Netherlands. Most other travellers we came across were Russian," she says. "It felt remarkably quiet for a country that is so safe, welcoming, and full of incredible food."

The country doesn't force itself to cater to party-goers or brand itself as a typical family-friendly destination. Few speak English - "so getting around usually requires some Russian or Uzbek, and a bit of flexibility - which might put some visitors off" says Kotiga.

Language barriers didn't affect her trip though - in fact, she was struck by the openness of the country, with locals going out of their way to chat.

"One of my favourite memories was a midnight in Bukhara, sitting in a square in front of a local madrasa, watching the light show. A local man my age approached me and struck up a conversation. I shared that all the cities I had visited so far felt completely different from each other," she recalls. "He explained that Bukhara feels very Persian, with many locals speaking Tajik (a dialect of Farsi), which gives the city a unique cultural flavour compared to Khiva or Samarkand."

She shares a word of advice for visitors planning a trip to the landlocked central Asian country: "The key is to arrive with curiosity and respect: understand that not all cultural norms are the same, and that people approaching you on the street are not necessarily invading your privacy — they might just be curious."

Below, she relates her experience in her own words.

It was afternoon, high sun - zvizdan, as we’d say in Croatian. The streets shimmered with heat, yet I found myself craving a hammam. I had a pin on the map, but the entrance eluded me; beige walls and empty alleys blurred in the brightness. Eventually, a man appeared and pointed me towards a discreet doorway, though he stopped at the threshold. “There is a woman here!” he called, knowing he wasn’t welcome to even step inside.

Inside, the air was heavy and warm, cut only by thin beams of light slipping through narrow windows. I stumbled through my broken Russian and was told to undress. A vaulted stone room waited, the floor hot beneath my feet. Another woman, about my age, lay still on the heated slab. What is she doing? I asked. They explained she had been trying to get pregnant, and the women of the hammam were guiding her through a quiet ritual of heat and care, passed down for generations. I joined them, sweating in the stillness. Afterwards, wrapped in a soft white robe, I sipped tea and stayed for hours, feeling entirely at home.

"It is like crossing distinct worlds: the Persian south; the Russian‑tinged north; and the Turkic heartland."

That’s what Uzbekistan feels like: a country that opens itself to you quietly, without fanfare. Travelling through it is like crossing three distinct worlds: the Persian south, with its turquoise domes and winding streets; the Russian‑tinged north, with its wide boulevards and grand metro stations; and the Turkic heartland, stretching out into the vast steppe. Tourists are still few, and everywhere I went, people stopped me, curious to know where I had come from and why I was there.

What struck me most was how unfiltered it felt. Not the polished Silk Road fantasy you might imagine, but a living, breathing country where turquoise‑tiled madrasas stand beside sleek, high‑speed trains. In the hammam, in the markets, on long, sun-streaked train rides, Uzbekistan revealed itself in quiet, human moments - welcoming, grounding, and alive in a way that lingers long after you leave.