Khiva – the hidden jewel of the Silk Road in Uzbekistan

By Jane Montana

Glowing muted gold in “the land of the sun” stand the impressively restored UNESCO Ichan Qala city walls of Khiva, Uzbekistan, rising before me like a mirage. As I step through one of the four tall compass-point gates, I find myself inside a labyrinth of immaculate walkways (blissfully free of cars), leading me towards gleaming domes and minarets decorated in turquoise, cobalt blue, white tiles and gold. The air feels different here – still, almost reverent – until the silence is broken by the beat of a hand drum or the laughter of children chasing each other beneath the turquoise domes.

Everywhere I walk, history wraps itself around me. The Islamic architects created beautiful mosques, monasteries, madrassahs, mausoleums and palaces, all richly and intricately adorned with gleaming tilework in blue and white, Arabic Qur’an inscriptions, and even Zoroastrian tile motifs looping across their surfaces. In between these magnificent buildings lie open squares, a former slave market, caravanserais, and shaded courtyards.

It is within these courtyards – where I pause under Russian olive and mulberry trees, ornate wells and fountains – that I encounter traditional artisans, still practising their trades much as they did centuries ago. I watch craftsmen and women using natural dyes on wool, cotton and silk; weaving complex, symbolic silk carpets; creating the famous ikat silk scarves, jackets and traditional wear; knitting camel wool socks; and shaping the familiar shaggy sheep wool hats, ready for the bitter winters.

Khiva is alive with sound and the heartbeat of the city is unmistakable. I hear it in the laughter of the gold-toothed ladies playing drums pierced with silver rings, as they slap dough onto the glowing cottonwood fire-fed clay tandooris. It echoes in the beating of copper as pots and plates are shaped in workshops, or in the hammering of blacksmiths crafting razor-sharp ceremonial knives and the ubiquitous crane scissors. I stop to watch woodcarvers chiselling ash and walnut, tooling intricate cheese boards and Qur’an bookstands – trickier, I’m told with a grin, than a Rubik’s Cube.

Artists quietly paint scenes from the great epic stories of the Silk Road and the myriad infamous characters who have traversed it: the Huns, Uighurs, Mongol Khans, Timur, Tamerlane, Ulugbek, Hazret-Khiva and so many more striding across the canvas, with the Sufis and the whirling dervishes rendered in colour alongside pomegranates, tulips, cranes, camels, horses, elephants, flamingos, leopards, the massive horned Ibex and Bukhara deer. In a shaded corner, I find a scribe bent over sheepskin vellum, writing bespoke messages in elegant Arabic scripts.

All the while, courteous street vendors display a profusion of Uzbek wares under colourful, rippling silk canopies, happy to barter – always fairly, always friendly – until late into the evening.

I drift towards the vast, carved tree-pillared caravanserais, now restored into exotic eateries serving – on brightly hand-painted plates and bowls – a delicious array of traditional Uzbek dishes. The cuisine is hearty and healthy: Laghman soup, samosas, Manti, shashlik kebabs, bone marrow, aubergine dishes, colourful salads, and of course, the national dish, Plov, with delicate herbal infusions accompanying each dish. The local wines are drinkable, but I quickly learn the local beers are better, and I raise a cold glass as a toast to the Silk Road itself – still alive, though now trading stories and culture instead of slaves and ivory.

The Silk Road continues to thrive – trading gold, silver, rare minerals, gas, cucumbers and tomatoes to Russia – journeying across vast deserts and mountain ranges. The ’Stans trade goods from China, Russia, Turkey and beyond. The tourists come, too – to be informed, impressed, and inspired. Wandering through Khiva, I can feel the weight of the centuries, but also a lightness: silk canopies fluttering in the breeze, vendors calling out with a smile, the echo of drums under star-bright skies. The past whispers, but the present is vibrant, and completely unforgettable.

A few hundred miles east, another jewel of Uzbekistan has just unveiled its own cultural treasure. In September, Bukhara opened the doors to its inaugural Biennale, a landmark event transforming its historic madrassahs, mosques and caravanserais into stages for contemporary art.

Curated under the theme of “Recipes For Broken Hearts” (the name drawing on an Uzbek legend in which the philosopher Ibn Sina creates a restorative dish to heal a heartbroken prince), the Biennale weaves together site-specific installations, performances, culinary rituals, and collaborations between international artists and local artisans. From Antony Gormley’s sculptural labyrinth to Subodh Gupta’s communal enamel dome, more than 200 participants from 39 countries have converged to celebrate healing, heritage and creative exchange. The Biennale is not just temporary, either: restored sites and cultural nodes will remain active afterwards, hosting performances, workshops, and research programmes. The aim is to emphasise culture as a dynamic driver of urban transformation, heritage preservation, and creative economic growth in Uzbekistan.

Like Khiva, Bukhara shows how Uzbekistan’s Silk Road cities are not frozen in time, but living, evolving cultural landscapes. Together, they embody the past – and the bright, creative future – of “the land of the sun.”