Recently, a friend and I had the pleasure of travelling to Uzbekistan. I was met with some unease as people asked, “But is it safe for just girls?” and, “What will you see there?”
Well, it’s safe to say Uzbekistan was a great choice. In fact, Edgar Allan Poe called Samarkand the “queen of Earth” in his poem Tamerlane, and we clearly saw why.
The country’s people were friendly and there was so much to do, especially as female or solo travelers. Our days were filled with sightseeing, and what struck me most was how understated and unexplored the country felt. It was quiet and self-contained. And then there was the blue. Oh, the blue. Endless cerulean domes, faded turquoise tiles and intricate mosaics that seemed to hold their beauty even centuries later.
Our trip began in Tashkent, which initially felt like any modern European city, with its skyscrapers and bustling restaurants, with people lingering outside, coffee in hand. There were pockets where you could feel the weight of history, but much of the city felt new, having been largely rebuilt following the devastating earthquake of 1966.
The real magic began when we landed in Samarkand. Suddenly, we felt transported back to a time when Samarkand was flourishing as a major crossroads along the Silk Roads. From the towering madrassas of Registan Square to the majestic mosques, the architecture was awe-inspiring. These were structures built to project permanence and power. The buildings weregrand, almost stern in their construction.
A little bit of history: Samarkand’s importance reached new heights under Timur, who made the city his capital in 1371 and whose architectural legacy can still be seen today. His successors built upon it. At Registan, for example, the oldest of the three great madrassas was built by Timur’s grandson Ulugh Beg between 1417 and 1420 while the other two were added more than two centuries later.
Standing there, we could almost picture scholars rushing to their classes at dawn, as teachers waited at the doors. But as I listened to stories of the male students who had once walked these halls, I couldn’t help but notice the contrast. Here we were, two women, marveling at the sights around us, but what about the women whose contributions had been part of that history too?
Our lovely tour guide was a young female student who walked us through these old stories, patiently pausing to take our photographs in front of every important monument. There was reverence in her voice as she spoke about the architectural vision of the Timurid era. And yet, as she guided us through histories still largely defined by powerful men and their legacies, I couldn’t help noticing how little was said about the women who had been part of these worlds.
In contemporary Uzbekistan, women are everywhere. Selling ice cream. Pouring tea. Walking children home. Taking selfies with friends. Sitting together in shaded corners, talking softly while tourists photograph the architecture behind them. Today, women make up just over half of Uzbekistan’s higher education student body.
Travel often encourages us to admire monuments uncritically and to appreciate the progress different countries have made in improving their education and socio-economic conditions.But it can also make us question the histories they preserve.
And while women like myself are now free to travel the world and marvel at it, we must also challenge the histories that have left so many women behind. Too many remain unacknowledged.
Uzbekistan is a truly unique experience. It is rich with history, quietly beautiful and safe for female travelers. But as we appreciate a country, any country, we must also ask ourselves: whose stories are woven into the places we marvel at, and how can we learn more about all those who helped shape them?
And as I walked those cobbled streets, I thought about the paths generations of women have paved for us, and how far we still have to go.
