Khiva Nice Day

For every place I went to in Uzbekistan, I was told the next place would be more touristy. In Tashkent a fellow traveller said "Wait till you get Samarkand, it's like Disneyland." It was quite an exaggeration, and a unique one at that, to compare the restored and recreated artefacts at Registan Square to that of Cinderella Castle. Sure enough, when I arrived in Samarkand it was very busy and congested with international tour groups. "This is nothing," said someone on my tour of the city, unaware of a previous comparison to Walt Disney's amusement park, "when you get to Bukhara it's like Disneyland." And so I went to Bukhara and, upon hinting at the large number of the flag-yielding tour guides hobbling around the old city, someone at my hostel declared, "Oh Khiva is much busier, it's like Disneyland."

Of everywhere I've been in the world, I thought Uzbekistan would have the fewest tourists. Maybe, if you look at the number of foreigners entering the country, it technically still is. But I learned that even places that get comparatively fewer tourists can still feel like they get plenty of tourists.

Uzbekistan only really opened to tourists in a big way eight years ago, when visa requirements and a whole bunch of other things became easier, following the death of former leader Islam Karimov. (Well, easier for everyone except Islam Karimov.) Needless to say, Uzbekistan's out-of-the-way location and elusive nature has meant that it's still low on most tourist's list of places to go.

Or so I thought. In Uzbekistan these days there are some backpackers and German travellers who want to go somewhere slightly further afield than Naples or Malaga. There aren't many families of four taking their vacation days sunbathing by the Aral sea. But there are tourists. The bulk of tourists you see in Uzbekistan are sold on the architectural grandeur of Samarkand and Khiva and visit on a package tour.

The tour-package tourist is an elusive, pack animal. Lead by their flag-bearing guide/master they find their strength in numbers. They takeover historic sites, absorbing every inch of space, uninterested in allowing any room for other people to stand or appreciate where they are. They claim the site as their own. With the benefit of an earpiece clipped to their ear they need not consider anyone else nor listen to the sounds of the city nor even look their guide in the eye anymore. Their guide works now as a live audiobook. He talks to a historic wall whilst the hexagenerian tour-package tourist takes a million and one pictures and haggles for a cheap scarf.

Although the tour-package tourist can be of some benefit. Whilst tour guides seldom use speakers anymore, they can usually still be heard. In Khiva there aren't many English-speaking tour-package tourists but there are plenty of Italian, Spanish and French ones. So I take this as an excellent opportunity to learn a new language and some history at the same time. Sure, I don't understand half of the words being said, but filling those words in with my own version of history is all the more exciting.  If anyone accuses me of listening to a tour that I didn't pay for I can always object on the grounds that I don't speak the language.

Despite the rapid increase in tourists visiting Khiva in recent years, it's clear that Uzbekistan is still determining the story it wants to tell. As a tourism industry still in it's infancy, there are some parts of history, such as Khiva's prominence in the slave trade, which aren't mentioned at all in the UNESCO World Heritage site. The paintings hung in the museum of ancient leaders of the empire who died centuries ago were only painted last year and are still drying in the desert heat. The copper statues around the Itchan Kala, the old city, are a glimmering red-brown colour free of any patina.

Unlike other cities, you basically have to pay for a ticket to get into the old city (you technically don't but the people at the gates make you think you do.) With this golden ticket, travellers go around the old city ticking off the different attractions they've seen. There are turnstiles to get into each madrasa or mosque, like you would have getting into Space Mountain or It's A Small World. Whilst they've built out the technology, no one seems to use it. So instead of scanning the ticket to get inside any building, the person at the front just scribbles their name on to your ticket receipt and lets you in the forced-open turnstiles. It's an odd blending of old and new that would definitely go against Disney policy.

So, with the large groups of tourists and the somewhat-artificial environment built to satisfy the reality tourists want to see, I can understand the constant comparisons to Disneyland.