"Do you want to sleep above the old Uzbek guy or the giant Kazakh guy who's probably a hitman?" These are the types of absurd questions that one asks themselves aboard a Soviet-era overnight sleeper train across Uzbekistan. My friend and I pondered this and other important life queries as our train screeched out of the bizarre city of Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan, a former Soviet republic and one of only two double landlocked countries in the world.
Tashkent is the epitome of a Soviet-era planned city and architectural experiment, with its massive city blocks, wide streets, lavish underground metro and grandiose parks dedicated to state heroes. The two days I spent there still feel a little like a dream, either because of the 100-degree heat or the still-fresh absurdity of finding myself in Uzbekistan while my friends posted photos from Positano and Punta Cana. I spent my time in Tashkent admiring Soviet architecture, visiting the iconic breadmakers in Chorsu Bazaar and watching the sunset at the Telyashayakh Mosque.
Uzbekistan, in addition to being a weird Soviet experiment, was also home to some of the most crucial stops on the Silk Road. As hard as it is to imagine today, the now marginal nation was once at the center of the world, at the crossroads of China, Persia and the West. This is why I was headed on a nine-hour overnight train journey to the old Silk Road city of Bukhara in a steel box built when Khrushchev was in charge.
It didn't take much time on the train to confirm it was not a modern vehicle. The cabins clearly hadn't been updated in decades, and a quick peek into the control room revealed that the button labels were still in Russian. As my friend and I settled into our cabin and waited for our roommates, we began our nightly routines, albeit adapted to the situation. We also quickly realized that a train that was baking in the desert heat all day without any form of air conditioning would be way too hot to sleep in. Cracking the only window in our car helped a bit, but it took at least a few hours of the night before the car cooled down to a reasonable temperature.
My night was spent staring out the window and exchanging amused glances with my friend outside of the two or three hours I did actually sleep. Somehow, our cabin companions managed to sleep nearly the whole night, clearly more accustomed to it than we were. Watching the sunrise over the Uzbek desert before our train rolled into Bukhara around 7 a.m. was definitely a highlight of the journey.
Being in Bukhara's old town is like a step back in time, with its narrow alleys, clay-colored buildings, and preserved forts and mosques. The old trading centers are still packed with vendors marketing trinkets, relics and foodstuffs to curious visitors. In town, one can also find a variety of Uzbek eateries, serving the traditional breads, dumplings, curries and meats of the region. While Central Asian cuisine is not world-renowned, or my cup of tea, I did enjoy the pumpkin dumplings, Lagman noodles and plov.
Although the overnight Soviet train journey is not as luxurious as using Uzbekistan's high-speed rail or as fast as an Uzbekistan Airways flight, it is far more memorable. In addition to meeting some locals, you are guaranteed a great dinner table story and the unbreakable bond of having spent a night in a hot steel cabin together in the remote deserts of central Asia. Finally, Uzbekistan, while off the beaten path, is an amazing destination, which, except for in a few weak moments, I wouldn't trade for any Aperol spritz in the piazza or Caribbean booze cruise.