Where the Warmth Comes Not from Radiators, but from People: Chorsu Awakens!
Bustling life, the lively exchange between seller and buyer, the noise of hundreds of conversations, Assalomu alaykum – the motto of everyone in this beautifully historic place.
It’s just past five in the morning. The air is still warm, touched by a cool breeze that sends a light shiver through the skin. While some people are only beginning to wake up, life at Chorsu is already in full swing. Vendors’ hands are deep in dough, while buyers clutch white plastic bags filled with fresh herbs sticking out on top, alongside warm, delicious flatbreads. This is not just a marketplace – it’s a way of life, like a massive mansion where millions of different people live together each day.
“Come here, daughter! I’ve got tasty khanym – just give it a try!” shouts a woman in a green apron and headscarf. At the same time, she gives change, places a fresh portion of food on a plate topped with onions, and manages to smile warmly and kindly.
The Uzbek bazaar Eski Juva (Chorsu) is not about buying and leaving. It’s an ancient theatre, formed over 2,000 years ago in the heart of the old city, at the crossroads of four trading streets.
Since ancient times, it has served as a convenient gathering place for merchants from many countries. Here, anyone could sell their crafts, food, clothing, and more. This tradition has been passed down through generations, which is why every tourist visiting Uzbekistan eagerly awaits their chance to visit the bazaar – to become a participant and a member of this living family. It’s a place where grandmothers argue over the price of potatoes, grandfathers discuss football and the latest news while browsing goods, girls try on dresses made of adras and atlas, and boys pick out their perfect tubeteika.
“I’m here every Saturday. Not to buy – to chat,” says Hikmat-ota, playing backgammon right on a carpet spread over the asphalt. “Chorsu is like a mini Uzbek mahalla, filled with bright colors. Everyone here belongs.”
Here, you don’t just buy food – you experience the real atmosphere of Uzbekistan. Stalls overflow with mountains of raisins and figs, rows of pahlava and nuts, spices of every shade and aroma – from the sharp scent of zira to the rich fragrance of saffron.
This bazaar is more than just a place of trade – it’s a mirror of the Uzbek soul, where every respected vendor is something of a philosopher, and every customer is not a guest, but a neighbor. Here, people know how to slow down, how to listen, and how to genuinely enjoy meeting each other.
By evening, the shopping bags are heavier, but the mood is lighter. And as the sun dips lower and the market begins to exhale after the day’s hustle, it becomes clear: Chorsu is not just a market.
It is the heartbeat of the city, its soul. It is the living memory of Tashkent, where every morning begins with a friendly shout, a hot flatbread, and the feeling that you are home.
Sultonova Mohidil, student of journalism and mass communications