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This shot was taken just outside the Muhammad Amin Khan Madrasah, featuring a close-up of the Kalta Minor minaret — known for its striking turquoise tile bands and unfinished height. Framing the tower in full wasn’t possible here, so I chose a tighter composition to focus on patterns, textures, and light.

At the base of the minaret sits a life-size bronze sculpture of two men chatting, with a samovar bubbling at their feet — a quiet nod to Khiva’s long-standing traditions of hospitality and tea culture. It’s one of several street-style statues in Itchan Kala that celebrate everyday moments in Uzbek life. The mix of monumental architecture and informal storytelling creates a layered visual that feels timeless and amuzing.

This image was taken from nearly the same spot as my wider courtyard shot, but this time with a 75mm lens. The goal was to isolate the Kalta Minor—Khiva's famously unfinished minaret—and highlight how its glazed tiles and pastel tones interact with the surrounding domes and arches.

Built in the mid-19th century, the Kalta Minor was meant to be the tallest minaret in Central Asia. Construction stopped abruptly after Muhammad Amin Khan's death, leaving behind this squat, cylindrical shape—now one of Khiva's most iconic landmarks.

Whether this tighter composition works is up for debate. But I was drawn to the layered geometry, the contrast between the warm mudbrick and cool turquoise, and how the afternoon light softened the entire scene.

This is the inner courtyard of the Muhammad Amin Khan Madrasah, the most significant madrasah in Khiva. It is located just inside the west gate of the old city, Itchan Kala. Built between 1851 and 1854, it was commissioned by Khan Muhammad Amin, one of the last rulers of the independent Khanate of Khiva.

The two-story madrasah once housed over 250 students, including lecture halls, student cells, and a mosque. Its size and layout reflect Khiva's role as a religious and administrative center in the 19th century.

In the background rises the unmistakable Kalta Minor, known for its vivid turquoise tilework and unusually stumpy appearance. It was intended to be the tallest minaret in Central Asia. Still, construction was abruptly halted after the khan's death, leaving behind what is now Khiva's most iconic architectural feature.

Today, the madrasah functions as a hotel and museum.

In the heart of Tashkent, Independence Square is Uzbekistan's most important public space and a symbol of national sovereignty. Originally built during the Soviet era, the area has been transformed to reflect the country's independence and identity.

The square features long rows of white columns topped with metal stork sculptures, symbolizing peace. A series of fountains leads the eye toward modern government buildings in the background, including the Senate and Cabinet of Ministers. The space is open, symmetrical, and designed to impress, combining monumentality with calm, landscaped surroundings.

It's a place for official ceremonies, quiet walks, and, of course, photography.

In the heart of Tashkent, Independence Square is Uzbekistan's most important public space and a symbol of national sovereignty. Originally built during the Soviet era, the area has been transformed to reflect the country's independence and identity.

The square features long rows of white columns topped with metal stork sculptures, symbolizing peace. A series of fountains leads the eye toward modern government buildings in the background, including the Senate and Cabinet of Ministers. The space is open, symmetrical, and designed to impress, combining monumentality with calm, landscaped surroundings.

It's a place for official ceremonies, quiet walks, and, of course, photography.

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On the path toward the construction site of the new Center of Islamic Civilization in Tashkent, I crossed paths with these two cheerful tourists. Framed by patterned shadows and spontaneous laughter, they happily struck a pose — turning a construction barrier into their personal stage.

Sometimes, the most memorable moments aren’t part of the plan — they just happen.

Previously, I shared a photo of Ayaz Kala, one of the defensive hilltop forts of ancient Khorezm. In contrast, this image shows Toprak Kala, a much larger and more complex site that once served as the capital of the Khorezmian Kingdom between the 1st and 3rd centuries CE.

Located about 35 km northeast of Khiva, in the Karakalpakstan region of Uzbekistan, Toprak Kala was not built for defense but for governance, ceremony, and daily life. The site includes the remains of a palace, temples, and residential buildings, all made from mudbrick. It was an organized urban center with a clear layout, wall paintings, and columned halls.

Unlike Ayaz Kala's remote, elevated position, Toprak Kala sits on open desert ground, closer to the once irrigated fertile lands. Today, the ruins are quiet and mostly untouched, offering a unique window into what life might have looked like in this once-powerful desert capital.

This photo was taken in front of the Abdulaziz-Khan Madrasah in Bukhara. The entrance is a striking example of 17th-century Islamic architecture, adorned with intricate tilework, tall arches, and colorful muqarnas (stalactite-style ornamentation). The madrasa, built in 1652, was intended to rival the older Ulugbek Madrasah just across the square.

The woman in the photo was not merely posing for fun. She allowed me to take pictures, clearly hoping I'd buy something from her—in this case, an embroidered tablecloth. We ended up purchasing one for €25. It wasn't particularly unique, but it felt fair to support her after she had stood there patiently.

Later, we observed the same tablecloths sold at many tourist spots across the Silk Road. It wasn't a rare find, but now it's part of the story.

This photo was taken in front of the Abdulaziz-Khan Madrasah in Bukhara. The entrance is a striking example of 17th-century Islamic architecture, adorned with intricate tilework, tall arches, and colorful muqarnas (stalactite-style ornamentation). The madrasa, built in 1652, was intended to rival the older Ulugbek Madrasah just across the square.

The woman in the photo was not merely posing for fun. She allowed me to take pictures, clearly hoping I'd buy something from her—in this case, an embroidered tablecloth. We ended up purchasing one for €25. It wasn't particularly unique, but it felt fair to support her after she had stood there patiently.

Later, we observed the same tablecloths sold at many tourist spots across the Silk Road. It wasn't a rare find, but now it's part of the story.

I got up at 5:30, long before the city stirred, hoping to photograph the old town of Bukhara in the soft light of sunrise. The streets were empty except for the occasional local passing by, like the boy on a bicycle who rolled through the scene just as I raised my camera.

The Abdulaziz-Khan Madrasah was built in 1652 as a showpiece of power and beauty. It was designed to rival — and even outshine — the older Ulugbek Madrasah across the square. The façade is covered in intricate tilework, muqarnas, and delicate patterns that glow in the early light.

Imagining what this square might have looked like centuries ago is easy without crowds or distractions. And that, to me, is the magic of Bukhara — a city where history doesn't feel distant but lived-in.

At 5:30 AM, Bukhara's old town is a different world — silent, golden, and almost surreal. This morning, I stood before the Po-i-Kalyan complex, where the 12th-century Kalyan Minaret, you see a glimpse of it on the left side of this picture, and the 16th-century Kalyan Mosque face each other in quiet grandeur.

The Kalyan Minaret, built in 1127 by Arslan Khan, rises 45.6 meters. It has survived centuries, including Genghis Khan's invasion, which spared the minaret while destroying much around it. Its brickwork and towering presence have earned it the nickname "Tower of Death," a reference to its use for executions in the past.

The Kalyan Mosque, completed in 1514 under the Shaybanid ruler Ubaydullah Khan, is one of Central Asia's largest mosques. It can accommodate up to 12,000 worshippers. The mosque's design features a vast courtyard surrounded by 288 domes supported by 208 columns.

The complex exudes a timeless serenity in the early morning light, with no crowds. Moments like these make the effort of rising before dawn worthwhile.

Some vendors at Chorsu are busy selling, others are catching up with customers, and some are clearly off the clock. Whether it's a well-earned rest after a long shift or just a quiet moment between customers, this scene tells much about the daily rhythm of market life.

Chorsu Market isn't just a place for buying and selling — it's a world where business, community, and daily routines blur together under one iconic roof.

Some vendors at Chorsu Market love the camera, but others do not. I tried to convince this cauliflower seller, but his message was clear. Sometimes, you must respect the "no" and move on.

Chorsu Market is one of the oldest and busiest in Central Asia. It's a maze of fresh produce, spices, meats, fabrics, and everyday street life, all under its iconic blue dome. Locals come here daily, and for a photographer, it's a goldmine of character, color, and honest human moments — even when the moment means not taking the shot.

This former madrasa, once a center of Islamic education, now serves a different purpose. Its historic cells have been repurposed into small shops selling traditional crafts, ceramics, and textiles — part of a broader trend across Uzbekistan where heritage sites are preserved but adapted for cultural tourism.

While souvenir shops can add charm and accessibility to historical sites, they quickly become repetitive when every shop offers the same products. What starts as authentic can easily feel over-commercialized. As Uzbekistan welcomes more visitors, it still needs to find the right balance between showcasing its rich heritage and preserving each site's uniqueness.
In the background, the blue-striped Center of Islamic Civilization dome is still under construction. I chose this composition carefully — one of the few places where I could frame the new dome cleanly, without cranes or construction fences.

The richly tiled dome in the foreground belongs to the older structure. Together, they create a visual contrast between preserved tradition and a modern effort to shape the future of Islamic scholarship in the region.

This image was taken just steps from one of Uzbekistan's most revered religious sites: the Hazrati Imam Complex. The turquoise dome is part of one of its historic buildings and a centuries-old ensemble of mosques, madrasas, and mausoleums.

The complex is also home to the Uthman Quran, believed to be the world's oldest surviving manuscript of the Koran, dating back to the 7th century. Built on the burial site of Hazrati Imam (also known as Kaffal Shashi), a respected Islamic scholar and poet, the complex has long been a center of religious life in Tashkent. It continues to serve as a place of worship and a symbol of Uzbekistan's Islamic heritage.

Framing the dome between modern and traditional structures, I focused on geometric shapes and soft light to offer a quieter, more abstract view of a place steeped in spiritual history.

Under construction since 2018, this impressive new landmark rises next to the historic Hazrati Imam Complex—the religious heart of Tashkent and one of Uzbekistan's most important Islamic sites. The Hazrati Imam Complex houses ancient mosques, madrasas, and the famous Uthman Quran, considered one of the world's oldest copies of the holy book.

Once completed, the new center will serve as a mosque and a cultural and educational hub for the region. The main building, which is 145 meters long, is topped by a striking 64-meter-high dome that already defines the modern skyline of the capital.
Inside, the complex will include a museum with five themed halls covering everything from pre-Islamic heritage to the Timurid Renaissance, as well as a library that will house more than 100,000 manuscripts and digital archives.

Unlike many parts of Western Europe, churches are often deconsecrated or repurposed as secular spaces. Uzbekistan has seen a religious revival since gaining independence in 1991. After decades of Soviet-era restrictions, people here have once again embraced religious practice, particularly Islam, which is deeply woven into the country's identity and history.

Located in the heart of Uzbekistan's capital, Chorsu Bazaar is one of Central Asia's oldest and busiest markets. Fresh produce, meats, and dairy are available inside the iconic turquoise-domed building. Outside, the atmosphere continues with rows of open-air stalls selling spices, grains, textiles, and household goods.
While wandering through the market with my camera, these two spice vendors waved me over and asked if I'd like to take their picture. The result is this candid moment—a quiet pause in the bustle of one of Tashkent's most colorful places.

During our visit to the old harem in the Tosh Hovli Palace in Khiva, we came across a remarkable moment: a group of local women performing traditional music and dance. They wore colorful ikat robes with beautiful headdresses and shawls. They brought the quiet courtyard to life with songs, laughter, and movement.

The palace, built in the 1830s by Allakuli Khan, was used as the home of Khiva's ruler. The harem was the most private part of the palace, where the Khan's wives, concubines, and female staff lived. Each of his four official wives had her own decorated room, all built around a central courtyard like the one in this photo.
The harem's design includes detailed tilework, painted ceilings, and finely carved wooden pillars, showing the skill of the local builders and artists.

Today, this space is no longer private but open to visitors. It's a place where history is kept alive through music, dance, and culture.

During our visit to the old harem in the Tosh Hovli Palace in Khiva, we came across a remarkable moment: a group of local women performing traditional music and dance. They wore colorful ikat robes with beautiful headdresses and shawls. They brought the quiet courtyard to life with songs, laughter, and movement.

The palace, built in the 1830s by Allakuli Khan, was used as the home of Khiva's ruler. The harem was the most private part of the palace, where the Khan's wives, concubines, and female staff lived. Each of his four official wives had her own decorated room, all built around a central courtyard like the one in this photo.
The harem's design includes detailed tilework, painted ceilings, and finely carved wooden pillars, showing the skill of the local builders and artists.

Today, this space is no longer private but open to visitors. It's a place where history is kept alive through music, dance, and culture.