Zaamin NP & Jizzax | Budget Bucket List

Zaamin National Park & Jizzax

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Uzbekistan isn’t exactly a standard spot on the hiker’s shortlist. It’s not known for its trails, nor for its forgiving summer climate (think: scorching life-size oven). People come here for Silk Road cities, blue-tiled minarets, and UNESCO plaques, not thrilling mountain treks or alpine air. Still, I can’t be in a country and not hike. It feels like skimming the surface, like I’m missing the point. So I started researching national parks, of which, despite Uzbekistan’s sheer size, there surprisingly are only two. One is Ugam-Chatkal, part of which I’d already poked into from the Kazakh side. The other?

Zaamin National Park. Remote, under-visited, and promisingly absent from most tourist itineraries. Perfect.

Of course, this also means “under-documented.” No trail maps. No route descriptions. No reliable hiking info whatsoever. In retrospect, this is probably because local visitors tend to drive straight in by car, ride the gondola up and down, and spend the afternoon roasting meat under the trees. No judgment, that’s sounds quite relaxing honestly, everyone connects to nature in their own way. However, for real immersion, I personally prefer to walk through, off the grid. Slowly, quietly, in absolute sustainable balance and leaving no trace… just becoming another little chain of this much larger ecosystem.

With no info to go on, I decided to just wing it. An approach I’m not unfamiliar with. I spotted a few potential trails on Maps.me (that notorious trickster of an app, where indicated paths sometimes lead straight into ravines or simply don’t exist at all) and thought: Sure. Let’s glue them into a loop somehow. Who needs verified data or water source intel in an entirely arid mountain zone? Nervous chuckle. It led to an unpredictable, heavily dehydrated, and highly enlightening 3-day adventure.

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Base: Jizzax (Jizzakh)

Jizzax seemed like the most sensible place to get organized. There was a train stop technically closer to Zaamin - Ulyanovo - also a bit nearer to Tashkent, where I was coming from. Yet, somehow, tickets to that station were inexplicably more expensive. Pricing logic here feels like it runs on vibes, especially considering that trains, bafflingly (unlike neighboring countries), cost 3–4 times more than much faster marshrutkas or shared taxis. So, Jizzax it was. Not just for the route: it was the only place around where I could actually find accommodation as well. The train ride itself? Let’s call it character-building. It was around 45°C outside, and inside the train, this was largely surpassed. No air-conditioning. Windows inexplicably sealed shut. Even locals, born into this sauna of a climate, were visibly struggling. Everyone waved fans and small towels like lifelines, babies were lifted and waved like holy offerings to the breeze gods, shirts clung to bodies, faces slick with sweat. A shared trauma. And yes, of course, there was a delay, so we could stickily marinate in this misery even a little longer.

But I made it. And checked into what turned out to be one of the strangest yet most positively surprising lodgings I’ve had in this area so far. When the address pinged on my map and said university, I assumed there’d been a mistake. But no: the hostel was on campus… I was going to spend the night inside the actual student dorms, opened up for backpackers during summer break.

Soviet concrete on the outside, Hogwarts on the inside. Especially after I noticed my room’s residents’ name tags: Akramov and Nazarov... clearly Slytherin. As a Dutchie and former uni student, I’d however only seen on-campus dorms in American teen dramas, including the escalating hallway arguments and cheerleader-football-player-romances. It’s not a concept back home. So finding myself lodged inside an actual Uzbek dorm, in a city that is defined by student life, felt like the proper experience, adding an extra layer. To make it even more special, I was their very first guest, triggering high excitement on their end. I was immediately swept into tours, teacher-hosted dinners (with zero chance of paying), and even a faculty meet-and-greet where I was introduced to all the tourism students like I was some kind of specimen (“Here is one, this is what a tourist looks like.”). Overall, this is how I felt in Jizzax. People open-mouth-stared like I was a minor celebrity, strangers asked for photos, children pointed.

It makes sense, as it is all but a tourist destination. If you ask me what you can do here, the truthful answer is: not a whole lot. Which is exactly what I needed. There are a few dusty monuments scattered around town (Amir Temur on a horse, the odd Lenin hangover), some mosques worth a glance and a park here and there flaring up after sunset in all their neon-glory. Some brave souls try the city’s tiny literature museum or poke around Soviet leftovers near the train station, defying the midday sun relentlessly trying to end you. But it’s not a sightseeing destination, and that’s its charm. No pressure. No must-sees. Just space to breathe. That, and its role as the gateway to Zaamin National Park. The true reason I was here.

Day 1: Duabe – Chortang Canyon

Distance: 17.8km.
Elevation Gain: 382m ascent, 24m descent.
Trail Conditions: Asphalt stretch from Duabe, then a dirt road. Eventually it turns into a proper trail (also sometimes frequented by rusty motorbikes).
Water conditions: Following a river.
River Crossings: There’s a remarkable amount of man-made bridges to cross the river when needed, so no wet socks.
Camping Spot: Next to the river, just below the Myk Fortress. The last water point.
Important Information: Read the first paragraph below for instructions how to get here using public transportation.
GPS: WIKILOC!

First hurdle: getting there. You’d think this would be the simple part, but this is Uzbekistan, where transport logic gets tossed out the window in a chaotic frenzy of disorientation and language barriers. From Jizzax, head to the corner of Abbay Street and Mustaqillik Street, where shared taxi drivers will instantly swarm around you like flies on a melon. Choose “Sanatorium” if you want to reach the touristy middle-of-the-park spot, but if you're following my route, get the cheaper shared taxi to Zaamin town and hitch the remaining 20 minutes to Duabe, right at the edge of the national park. (Bonus: You’ll also bypass the entry gate and skip the small fee. I didn’t plan that part, but use it to your advantage.). Things went downhill fast. As we rolled into Zaamin’s city core, I reached for my bag to hop out, but the taxi driver and fellow passengers staged a full-blown intervention. Lots of waving, shouting, urgent hand signals. “Sit!” they insisted, in that suspiciously helpful manner that tends to have the opposite unintentional result. And off we went... in the wrong direction. For no reason. An entire hour lost, an extra cab fare paid, and yet another frustrating Uzbek taxi experience to add to the long list.

Eventually, I hitched to the so-called “trailhead” I had scouted on Maps.me. In reality I found a long asphalt road, eventually giving way to a dusty dirt track, where cars still passed by, packed with Uzbek families on riverside picnic missions. After a good while though, the road morphed into a real hiking trail. Wow, unheard of. It narrowed, twisted, yet occasionally spat out a rattling rusty motorbike from around a corner. Where they were coming from or going to, I have no idea. The trail appeared to dead-end in a wall of rock, unless vertically ascending the mountains on the left.

I’d been promised “cool mountain air” in hopeful tales of the locals, something I was deeply craving. It turns out, what they meant was: less deadly. It was 35°C instead of 45°C, which is indeed slightly less, but what still feels like slow-roasting in your own sweat. Luckily, the trail followed a river all day: a magical, gurgling lifeline. It gave me endless supplies of drinking water (when filtered, obviously), continuous chances to soak my shirt and cap, and the only greenery I’d see in my entire Zaamin visit. Trees actually grew near the banks, offering rare, glorious shade. I stayed under them like they were handing out free Wi-Fi and ice cream, what a treat!

Besides that, the terrain was mercifully flat. No dramatic climbs, no knee-shattering descents. Shepherds dotted the valley with encampments and even built some wooden bridges, which meant I avoided the classic hiking indignity of soaked socks. The whole area had this intriguing energy: Remote yet lively, peaceful but quietly menacing. A brown, arid, sun-scorched moonscape, capable of making you feel like you found paradise while being fully capable of morphing into your personal hell, depending on your trail-choices. I pitched my tent beneath the fabled Myk Fortress, which I would’ve missed entirely had it not been tagged on the map. It’s one of those ancient ruins that looks more like a forgotten pile of bricks unless you squint and engage your imagination. (Apparently medieval. Probably important. Now mostly appreciated by goats.) I only made it 18km that day, half my usual distance, but I wisely stopped when the path veered left, away from the river. I didn’t know it yet, but that decision likely saved me from a full-body heatstroke. Foreshadowing: Activated.

Day 2: Chortang Canyon – Almaly Peak

Distance: 16.3km.
Elevation Gain: 1011m ascent, 716m descent.
Trail Conditions: Vague trails. Trails often vanish, and you need to navigate through wild terrain or bushwack (through tick thorn bushes).
Water conditions: Nothing! Once you leave the river, there will be ZERO natural sources for the duration of the hike, which is a huge problem with the blistering heat you’ll be facing in Uzbekistan. There is also no shade anywhere. You’ll have no choice but to descend to the touristy areas for water provision, adding an extra unforgiving descent and ascent to the mix.
River Crossings: None, as there is no water to begin with.
Camping Spot: Just before the Almaly Peak, at 1670m. Nice views, but no truly level terrain and no water source (big-big problem). It is still incredibly warm at this elevation in July, even at nighttime, so no need to bring any warm layers.
Important Information: Unless you are able to carry 5-6 liters of water, you must descend to the (unattractive) touristy areas of Zaamin NP to replenish water, adding significant distance and an extra peak to ascend and climb (even higher than where the gondola goes). The summer heat makes it close to impossible to complete a proper distance in a responsible manner. Attempt a shoulder-season hike, avoiding the height of summer (and winter).
GPS: WIKILOC!!

I allowed myself the decadent luxury of sleeping in (by hiking standards, that is), starting around nine. A wise move in hindsight, allowing some proper rest, considering I was about to be chewed up and spat out by the terrain. The moment I left the river, which by the way was the last natural water source of the entire day, the punishment began without delay. Straight up a mountain. No warm-up. No gentle incline for breakfast, just near-vertically up into the blazing nothing. The terrain? Barren. Not in a poetic “windswept plateau” kind of way… just aggressively brown and empty. Once you escape the river valley, the concept of shade ceases to exist. Vegetation barely bothers to try. I climbed in silence, dripping, wondering if I could sweat myself into a new biological form.

Eventually I reached a short descent, maybe five minutes of relative mercy, before the trail yanked me upwards again. In the second valley though, I saw trees! A rare burst of hope... quickly crushed when I realized they all carried long sharp thorns, ready to shred me to pieces. Nah, that’s cool. After yet another steep and fairly soul-destroying climb, I stumbled into a valley with an intersection: left towards the lower elevations, or straight into the arms of civilization, i.e., the tourist zone. I had no idea whether the lower loop had any water (spoiler: it wouldn’t have), so I took the safer bet and pointed myself towards people, pavement, and possibly a vending machine. This meant another climb. A brutal one. No marked trail, just raw hillside and the aggressive sun overhead. Just when I was reconsidering all my life choices, I spotted it: a road. Freshly paved, bizarrely smooth. A scenic viewpoint. People. Ice cream. The disorienting contrast of rejoining society after hours of near-hallucination.

And then - classic Zaamin - trail access from the viewpoint was gated off. Apparently the park prefers you stick to car tourism and 20-meter selfie strolls. Anything resembling a real trail had been sealed behind barbed wire and warning signs in Uzbek. I figured as I don’t speak that language, that means it doesn’t apply to me. So I scrambled around the side of the gate and found the ghost of a trail heading up towards a TV tower. It started promising, then evaporated completely. Maps.me (aka my unreliable hiking co-conspirator) claimed a way down from here. I stood at the top, staring into a mess of thorn bushes and pipes, and realized: no trail, just an overgrown slope where someone once dragged plumbing. Still, down I went. What were my choices? It developed into a thorn-riddled descent that shredded my legs so thoroughly I had to swap shorts for long pants mid-slope, bleeding and cursing. It was steep. It was slow. It was not fun.

Eventually, through the scratches and dehydration, I spotted what looked like a mirage: a gondola, gas stations, luxury hotels, and families posing with cotton candy. A full-blown tourist hub in the middle of nowhere. No one hikes here, but they sure do arrive en masse to roast kebabs on a Sunday afternoon. Which sounds like a better option than what I was putting myself through, honestly, but I’m me. I had a cappuccino, because nothing says “nature” like ordering an overpriced Italian beverage immediately after emerging from combat with shrubbery. But honestly… it was garish, loud, and to me the least interesting part of the entire park. Yet: essential. This is the last place to refill water, and you’ll want to carry enough to survive a camel migration, because there’s nothing until the end of tomorrow.

Refuelled and rehydrated, I followed a boring sidewalk for 5km (a surreal postscript to the bushwhack from hell) until I found my envisioned trailhead... sprouting out of a private parking lot guarded by toddlers. Ok. I nodded politely, and without hesitation sped up my vertical climb. A man started yelling. The toddlers joined in. I climbed faster. Good luck catching up with me, I thought, because you’ll have to drag me down the mountain with your very own hands: I will not come down. As expected, his shouting efforts were all the energy he was willing to put into it, and soon enough it was more than just a background noise fading away in the distance. I found a flattish patch halfway up the next mountain and declared it home. Not the longest day distance-wise, but by far the most gruelling. The terrain was merciless, the conditions ridiculous, and the trail almost imaginary. But the sunset? Utterly free and more beautiful than any overpriced resort balcony could ever deliver

Day 3: Almaly Peak - Duabe

Distance: 15.9km (+10km hitchhiking)
Trail Conditions: Vague trails. They often vanish, and you need to navigate through wild terrain or bushwack (through tick thorn bushes).
Water conditions: Nothing! Only in the valley you’ll find small businesses (river water heavily polluted on this side). All mountain sources visible on the map are dried up in summer.
River Crossings: None, as there is no water to begin with.
Important Information: Unless you are able to carry 5-6 liters of water, you cannot complete the original high-altitude mountain rim section in summer. Eventually you’ll have to go down to the valley and replenish.
GPS: … I had to descend due to water shortages. The most interesting loop in terms of views and trails would be a continuation over the mountain rim, which also guarantees a significantly more gradual descend down to Duabe.

I started the day with noble intentions, all of which were systematically dismantled by the laws of physics, gravity, and hydration. I had schlepped up water like the responsible adult I am, but not nearly enough. Not even close. Last night, the dehydration I’d been accumulating all day came knocking. I kept waking up, chugging in rationed sips, trying not to burn through my stash before the sun even showed up. At breakfast I weighed the only path forward: If even one of the water sources marked on Maps.me miraculously existed, I could complete the loop. But only then.

The day began, predictably, with a near-vertical scramble straight up Mount Almaly. No trail, no mercy. Just rocks, spiky plants, and a sun with vengeance in its heart. Each step was a hydration tax I couldn’t afford. When I finally crawled up to the ridge, bleeding and panting, I rejoined the rough spot from yesterday’s descent… but this time veered right, following a theoretical trail across the mountain rim. I wouldn’t call it a leisurely stroll. Thorn bushes wrapped around me like nature’s barbed wire, forcing detours along crumbling cliff ledges. I slipped. I bled some more. I may have cursed the entire mountain range. And yet, the views were absurdly beautiful… an endless procession of jagged peaks glowing under the sun, taunting me with their indifference

Then came the twist everyone saw coming: every single water source was dry. The situation shifted from mildly concerning to medically irresponsible. Continuing the ridge loop was no longer an option. I had to descend, fast. According to Maps.me, there was a trail down to the right. According to reality, there was a death slope made of rolling gravel and betrayal. I didn’t walk down — I skidded. Half-controlled, half-possessed, occasionally airborne. It was somehow even steeper than the route up, which frankly felt illegal. I was scraped raw, limping, parched, and several kilometres from any sign of civilization. Both mentally and physically I was hanging on by a thread, but collapsing into the foetal position wasn’t going to get me out of the situation, so I kept moving, mathematically rationing the sparse leftover water sips I still had.

When the valley road finally came into view, I kicked into autopilot. I hobbled to the first roadside eatery I saw, waving frantically like a dehydrated scarecrow: water… water… please… The urgency must’ve translated. Someone ran in, emerged with a little bucket, and handed it to me like I’d just crossed a desert. Which, in a way, I had. I downed two litres without ever pausing or lowering the bucket. When I looked up, a dozen brown eyes were staring at me in silent awe. Then came more water. Then melon. Then somsa. Then soup. Then - why not - ice cream. My body had tapped out, but Uzbekistan’s hospitality had just kicked in. I tried to pay. They refused. I tried to object. They smiled and handed me another shaslik. Photos were taken. More welcomes-to-the-country delivered. A dizzying contrast between brutal landscapes and bottomless kindness.

Because this is Uzbekistan: A country of culture, not only defined by its historical depth, but also by the deep-wired friendliness and hospitality of its people. Not a country of long-distance trails and hiking adventures. Certainly not in the height of summer. Am I grateful for the experience and glad I made it all the way out here to Zaamin? Absolutely. Will I come back for round two? Not a chance.

Quick Budget Fact Overview

Uzbekistan Facts

Capital: Tashkent
Language: Uzbek (official), Russian widely spoken
Population: ± 36.7 mln
Sq km: ± 448,978
Currency: Som (so'm – UZS)
Electricity Outlet: C+F / 220 V / 50 Hz
Country Code Phone: +998
Emergency Phone: 112 general, 101 fire, 102 police, 103 ambulance
Visa: 30-day visa-free access for many nationalities. Others can apply for an e-visa here.
Vaccinations: None mandatory, but Hepatitis A+B, Typhoid, and Tetanus are recommended
Climate: Arid / Continental Climate (B and D types). Hot, dry summers; cold winters.
High season: April–June & September–October (it can get unbearably hot in summer).

Short History Recap

6th century: Turkic tribes dominate. 8th: Arab conquest, Islam spreads. 9th-10th: Samanid rule, Persian culture flourishes. 1220s: Mongol invasion under Genghis Khan. 1370: Rise of Amir Temur (Tamerlane), capital in Samarkand. 1500s: Uzbek Shaybanid dynasty rules. 1740: Area absorbed by Persian Afsharid Empire. Late 1700s–1800s: Khivan, Kokand and Bukhara khanates. 1865: Russian Empire takes Tashkent. ’68: Samarkand. ’76: Bukhara and Khiva become Russian protectorates. 1916: Anti-Russian uprising crushed. ’17-‘20s: Bolshevik takeover, Red Army defeats local resistance. ’24: Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic (SSR) formed within USSR. ’37-‘38: Stalinist purges, Uzbek intelligentsia executed. ’60s: Mass cotton production, Aral Sea begins shrinking. ’85: Glasnost, protests begin. ’89: Islam Karimov becomes First Secretary of Uzbek Communist Party. ’90: Becomes president. ’91: Independence declared. ’92: Joins UN. ’95: Karimov re-elected in controversial vote. 2005: Andijan Massacre – hundreds killed by state forces after protests. ’07: Internet censorship increases. ’16: Karimov dies. Shavkat Mirziyoyev becomes president. ’17-‘23: Gradual reforms, improved foreign ties, tourism push.

FREE Sights / Activities (Jizzax)

Sights: Amir Temur Park, Imam Ismail al-Bukhari Monument, Shodlik Park, Victory Park, Railway Station (Soviet architecture – exterior), Central Mosque (exterior), Jizzax Cultural Palace (exterior).
Hikes / Nature: Zaamin National Park, Nuratau Mountains, Lake Tuzkan, Aydar Lake.

PAID Sights / Activities (Jizzax)

Sights: Imam Ismail al-Bukhari Complex, Sayyid Yahya Bukhari Mausoleum, archaeological sites around Yangiobod.
Museums: Jizzax Museum of Literature and Art, Regional History Museum.
Other: Fishing at Lake Tuzkan, Cooking Classes (guesthouse-led), Zaamin Yurt Stays & Horseback, Craft/Weaving Demos.

Evening Entertainment

Nightlife: Local teahouses around Amir Temur Park, casual cafés near Shodlik Park and Victory Park, summer terrace spots along the main square.
Theatres: Jizzax Regional Theatre, Cultural Palace.

Local Festivals

Navruz (spring equinox celebration with food fairs & sports) – March 21st
Zaamin Summer Festival – June
Independence Day – September 1st
Jizzax City Day – late September

Budget Bites

Main Supermarket Chains: Korzinka, Makro, Havas, Baraka Market.
Farmers Markets: Kolkhozny (Central) Bazaar, Ko'k Bozor Dehqon Bazaar.
Local Dishes: Plov (national rice dish with meat, carrot, onion), Manti (steamed dumplings with meat or pumpkin), Lagman (hand-pulled noodles with meat and vegetables), Shurpa (meat broth soup with chunky vegetables), Shashlik (grilled meat skewers), Samsa (pastry stuffed with meat or pumpkin), Naryn (cold horse meat noodle dish), Dimlama (stewed meat and vegetables), Honim (steamed pasta layers with potato and onion), Chuchvara (small dumplings, similar to pelmeni), Mastava (rice and meat soup), Tandoori Kabob, Khalisa (wheat porridge with meat), Holvaytar (dense wheat halva), Patir (dense, oily flatbread), Tandyr Non (crusty round bread baked in clay oven).
The Veg Situation: Uzbek cuisine is generally meat-heavy, with broths and animal fat often used in cooking. However, some vegetarian dishes can be found, especially at bazaars. Local veg-friendly options include: Pumpkin Manti, Potato Samsa, Honim (enquire for meat-free version), Dimlama (check for meat content), Salads (such as Achichuk – tomato, onion, chili), Lentil Soup, Patir, Tandyr Non, and seasonal fruit. More veg spots (mainly in Tashkent) listed here.
National Drink: Green Tea, Ayran (salted yoghurt drink), Chalap (fermented dairy), Kompot (sweet fruit infusion), Kvas (mildly fermented rye drink), Uzbek Wine (Samarkand region – honestly not very good).

Sleep Cheap

Please note: Uzbekistan requires a registration for every night you are in the country. Make sure you retrieve this form from your hotels, as they sometimes don’t automatically give it (it costs them money, so an extra charge may apply). When camping, couchsurfing or staying with friends, you’re officially also urged to do it yourself within 3 days (not a very well-functioning sight, I didn’t manage). Some travelers reported to be checked on this at the border, some never heard about it again.

Hostels / Hotels / Guesthouses: Uzbekistan is budget-friendly when it comes to accommodation, especially outside the main tourist corridors like Samarkand or Khiva where prices can climb slightly (Bukhara is surprisingly cheap). In Tashkent and other major cities, there’s a solid offering of hostels and hotels — often recently built and unusually stylish for Central Asia. Dorm beds are widely available and cheap, and many guesthouses offer private rooms with shared bathrooms and a basic breakfast (usually bread, eggs and tea). However, just like in other parts of the region, don’t blindly trust the online “private room” label. Solo travellers might find themselves being “upgraded” into shared situations (read: strangers in your room), so messaging ahead to confirm privacy is highly recommended. Many guesthouse owners are still figuring out booking platforms, so misunderstandings are common. Cash is still the norm, only the more upscale hotels take card. Writer’s choice: I stayed in quite a special accommodation, at a student dormitory at the university. The very affordable Milliy Hostel can be booked in the summer months. In Zaamin National Park I wild-camped.
Couchsurfing: is legal and functional in Uzbekistan, although slightly less active than in western countries. Some hosts are still warming up to the platform, but you’ll find a few generous locals (especially in Tashkent) happy to share their home and stories. As always, personalization is key - don’t copy-paste, and show why you’re a good match. Most hosts don’t care about paid verification: positive reviews matter more. Cyclists can also try Warm Showers, which exists in the country but with a fairly limited host list.
Wild Camping: Unlike Kyrgyzstan, wild camping in Uzbekistan exists in a legal grey area. While not explicitly banned, it’s not officially encouraged either - and it’s not culturally common. In cities or suburbs, it’s a no-go. In remote nature areas, discreet camping is generally tolerated. Police may ask questions or request ID. Be extra careful near borders (especially Kazakhstan and Afghanistan), as these areas are patrolled and can be sensitive. When in doubt, ask a local if it’s alright, hospitality is very central to Uzbek culture.

Mama Said

Safety: Uzbekistan is one of the safest countries in Central Asia. Crime rates are low, and tourists are rarely targeted. There’s a visible police presence, especially in Tashkent and tourist zones, which may feel either reassuring or intrusive. Police might do passport checks, especially near major squares or train stations. Always carry a copy or digital scan if you don’t want to flash the real one. Avoid photographing police, government buildings or checkpoints. Note that drones are illegal in the entire country, and they’ll confiscate it upon arrival (what a waste!). Locals are helpful and curious, though you'll get plenty of stares.
Negotiating: Bargaining is expected at markets and especially with taxi drivers or in a context of shared transport (if you despise that as much as I do, download Yandex Go to get the standard rate at all times, without reversed discrimination). Prices are often fixed in restaurants and shops, but in tourist areas or bazaars, it’s game on. Sellers will toss out inflated prices, especially if you’re visibly foreign. Tip: Ask a local how much the going rate is and bring the exact change, saying that’s all the cash you have. They will not turn down the opportunity of profit, even if it’s less than they had hoped to squeeze out of you.
Tap Water: Generally not save to drink for foreign stomachs, even locals boil it. Tip: Most guesthouses offer a hot water kettle, which you can use to boil your own drinking water and refill bottles.
Health care is free at the state-run hospitals in Uzbekistan, also for foreigners (even multi-day hospitalization is free of charge). You will only be required to pay for the (cheap) medication or any medical appliances used, which can be done at the pharmacies generally located inside of the hospitals. As due to an intense food poisoning I got a bit too familiar with the local healthcare system, I can also confirm that the downside is that there won’t be any English-speaking doctors, conditions can be rundown and incredibly unhygienic and there is no air-conditioning or even a fan, also when it’s over 45 degrees. The overall system is very chaotic with limited treatment options, and there is zero privacy with other random patients constantly impatiently entering the office while you’re being treated. It’s also common for doctors to just share your personal medical condition with anyone who wants to hear it, including other curious patients. Without a clear system, it’s never anyone’s turn and Uzbeks aren’t familiar with forming lines or waiting out their turn to be attended, which is very stressful. If possible, go to a private and international hospital. Trust me, it’s worth it.
Money: Uzbekistan is still largely a cash society, though card acceptance is improving (without additional fees). ATMs are everywhere in the capital but are more scarce or unreliable in rural areas. The cash-out limits of the ATM machines are generally rather low. Tip: Withdraw from Kapitalbank, Ipak Yuli, or Asaka Bank for best odds - other banks often reject foreign cards or spit out error codes for sport. Watch out for: currency exchange scams, which still exist at borders and back alleys. Only exchange at official banks.
The best credit/debit card for traveling is Wise, hands down. It uses real exchange rates with the lowest fees and lets you hold multiple currencies, although not the Uzbek som. Revolut works too, but has higher weekend rates and fewer features.
Simcards are super cheap and easy. Main providers are Beeline, Ucell, Mobiuz, and Uzmobile. Most travelers go with Beeline for widest coverage and foreigner-friendliness, but I went with Ucell (with varying reliability). Bring your passport to buy and register, and ask them to get it started before you leave the store (unless you’re fluent in Uzbek or Russian). Avoid airport kiosks charging five times the street price. For peace of mind, get your sim at a major store in the city, like the Beeline office near Mustaqillik Square. Plans usually come with more data than you’ll ever need. Note that internet, both in guesthouses and from your own data, is rather slow.
Public toilets are rare and rarely good (though charged). Bring your own paper and hand sanitizer. Usually there is no soap or even water to wash your hands (hence the swift carry-over of viruses).
Google Maps is mostly reliable in cities, but sketchy in rural areas. Use 2GIS or Yandex Maps instead.
The power can cut out randomly, especially outside of Tashkent: a small power bank is a lifesaver.

Transport

Walking: Jizzax is compact enough to navigate on foot, especially around the central parks, mosques and government buildings. The sidewalks aren’t always smooth (or present). Sun can be brutal in summer, so aim for early mornings or evenings.
Cycling: Technically possible, but drivers aren’t used to sharing the road. Potholes, heat and a general lack of bike infrastructure make it a challenge.
Public Transport: Jizzax runs on marshrutkas and local buses. They’re cheap and chaotic. No need for tickets – just hand over small cash to the driver. Marshrutkas stop when flagged; buses follow fixed stops. Use Yandex Maps or 2GIS for semi-reliable routes – Google Maps doesn’t work properly. Shared taxis to Zaamin National Park leave from Tashkent Ko'chasi: in 2005, it was 30,000 to Zaamin Town & 70,000 to Sanitarium, which is in the heart of the national park. Make sure you know the going rate before getting in (check with your accommodation or a local), as you're gonna get tourist price.
Train / Bus / Shared Taxi: Jizzax is connected by regional rail, including slower trains and occasional Afrosiyob stops (though Samarkand is the more reliable hub for bullet trains). Trains are the more expensive way to hop between cities, and air-conditioning is hit-or-miss. Book via the official Uzbek Railways site or in-person with your passport. Surprisingly, it is about 3x cheaper to take a shared taxi or a bus. However, shared taxis leave when full, which can be immediate or hours later. You can also enter a shared taxi in hitchhike-form, by hailing it down on the right road to the destination with your index-finger down. These are cars already almost full, eager for an extra passenger, so you won’t have to wait. Make clear arrangements about the price and drop-off location before getting in. To find the current shared-taxi stops, ask your hotel – they vary over time and per destination.
Airport: Jizzax doesn’t have its own commercial airport – the closest options are Samarkand International Airport (2hrs) or Tashkent (3–4 hrs).
Taxi / Yandex: Yandex Go works well here (not in Zaamin though!) – fast, cheap, and blissfully free of fare haggling. Local SIM required. If you grab a taxi off the street, agree on a price first unless you enjoy paying the “foreigner fee.”
Car Rental: Uncommon and unnecessary unless you’re doing a deep dive into Zaamin or the Nuratau Mountains (Zaamin NP can also be reached by shared taxi). Better deals through local agents than global brands – if you can find them.
Hitchhiking: Common locally, but rarely free. In Uzbekistan, flagging a ride is often a casual taxi arrangement. Point your index finger downward (not thumbs-up), and expect to pay something – especially if you look non-local. If unsure, stick with marshrutkas

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In Uzbekistan: Zaamin National Park, Samarkand, Tashkent, Bukhara.
International Destinations Close By: Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Afghanistan.

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