Nestled in the heart of Central Asia, Karakalpakstan is often described as a “stan within a stan” – an autonomous republic within the country of Uzbekistan. It is the least-visited region in Uzbekistan, though it was my personal favourite.
Karakalpakstan accounts for nearly one third of Uzbekistan’s total landmass but is home to only around 2 million people – roughly 5 % of the country’s population. Its terrain is mostly desert, flanked by the dried remnants of the Aral Sea to the north and the Karakum and Kyzylkum deserts to the south and east. Karakalpakstan shares borders with Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan and is home to the indigenous Karakalpak people.
The Karakalpaks, a Turkic ethnic group, have a long history in the region. Originally nomadic, they settled south of the Aral Sea in the 18th century. Linguistically, they are more closely related to Kazakhs than Uzbeks, as their language belongs to the Kipchak branch of the Turkic family, like Kazakh, whereas Uzbek belongs to the Karluk branch.
Unlike other ethnic minorities in Central Asia, the Karakalpaks have maintained a degree of political autonomy. Karakalpakstan’s current status traces back to the early Soviet period when the Karakalpaks were recognized as a distinct nationality. In 1925, the Karakalpak Autonomous Oblast was established within the Kazakh Autonomous Socialist Soviet Republic. It became an Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic in 1932 and was later incorporated into the Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic in 1936.
Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Central Asian republics of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan emerged as independent nations. Each was named after its dominant ethnic group, though all were home to various minority populations. Most of these minorities fell into two broad categories: those with a national homeland elsewhere (such as Russians, Ukrainians, Azeris, and Armenians) and those without a state of their own (such as Uyghurs and Dungans). The Karakalpaks were a unique exception, with their own republic within Uzbekistan.
Today, the Republic of Karakalpakstan retains many of the symbols of a sovereign state, including its own flag, a state emblem, and a national anthem. Although Karakalpakstan’s political influence within Uzbekistan is limited, its cultural identity is largely respected. The Karakalpak language holds equal status with Uzbek, and is taught in schools and higher education institutions. Unlike in some other Central Asian regions, there has been no forced assimilation of Karakalpak culture.
I always knew that getting to Nukus – the capital city of Karakalpakstan – would be chaotic. But I didn’t expect the day to start with me being locked inside my guesthouse in Khiva.
I knocked and knocked, but no one seemed to hear me. Panic started creeping in – it was already past 7 AM, and I knew I had to leave early if I wanted to catch the only daily bus to Nukus at 9 AM from Urgench, where most minibuses from Khiva stop. Desperate for an escape, I searched for another way out. I eventually found a door leading to a small, fenced-in area next to the road. But the fence had spikes, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t climb over. I even dragged a bench over to step on and tossed my bag to the other side, thinking I could jump onto it. But one wrong move, and I’d end up with a spike somewhere I really didn’t want it. Defeated, I returned to the main door – only to find it had been unlocked. I should’ve just been patient.
I rushed to the North Gate of Khiva’s walled city, where minibuses wait for passengers. I hopped on one to Urgench, and within ten minutes, we were on our way. Things were finally going smoothly. By the time I arrived in Urgench, it was 8:15 AM. The bus to Nukus departed from Avtovokzal, near the train station – about four kilometres from where I was dropped off. I used the Yandex app to call a taxi. I arrived at the station with time to spare, asked around, and soon found the Nukus-bound minibus. After grabbing some bread and snacks from a nearby shop, I was ready for the long journey ahead.
The bus was nearly empty, making for a comfortable ride despite the bumpy roads. As we left Urgench behind, it became clear that we were heading somewhere incredibly remote. The landscape quickly transformed into an expanse of desert, dotted only by tiny villages. At one point, we were just two kilometres from the Turkmenistan border – a fact that made me yearn even more to visit this secretive country. I couldn’t believe I was so close to a place that feels almost impossible to enter as a tourist. One day, hopefully!
As we neared Nukus, we passed Chilpik Dakhma, an ancient Zoroastrian Tower of Silence thought to be one of the earliest examples of this unique funerary ritual, dating back to somewhere between the 1st century BC and the 1st century AD. In the Zoroastrian faith, bodies were believed to be at risk of contamination by demons after death. To prevent this, the deceased were left atop a dakhma – an elevated structure – where they were exposed to the elements and birds of prey, which purified them. The bones were then placed in ossuaries nearby. This practice was considered the most sacred and least harmful form of interment.
We arrived in Nukus just before noon, and as expected, a horde of taxi drivers was already waiting. They crowded around the bus doors, calling out for potential passengers. But instead of getting caught up in the chaos, I spotted some buses a little further away. I walked over and asked about the Savitsky Museum since my hotel was right next to it. The first bus I asked said yes, so I hopped in without hesitation.
The entire journey had been surprisingly affordable. The breakdown: 7,000 sum for the bus to Urgench, 12,500 for the taxi, 35,000 for the bus to Nukus, and just 1,500 for the final ride to the museum – bringing the grand total to 56,000 sum (~30 DKK).
By 12:30 PM, I was already checked into my hotel, Hotel Jipek Joli. Though the hotel was expensive by Uzbek standards at 750,000 sum (~ 400 DKK) per night, I had booked my upcoming Aral Sea tour through them, so it made sense to stay there. Besides, after many days of non-stop travel, having my own private room and bathroom, complete with a big, comfortable bed, felt like a luxury. I spent a few hours relaxing, taking a long bath, and hand-washing some clothes before setting out for the museum.
Savitsky Museum is also known as the “Louvre in the Sands.” Founded in 1966 by Moscow artist Igor Savitsky, the museum houses the largest art collection in Central Asia. It is best known for its avantgarde and post-avantgarde works from the 1920s-1930s, as well as pieces from the 1960s-1970s created by underground nonconformist artists. Many of these artists were denied official recognition under Soviet rule, labeled as dissidents, and their work hidden from the public eye.
Unfortunately, the museum was closed for restoration work on the exact day of my visit. A bit unlucky, but since I’m not a huge art enthusiast, it wasn’t a devastating loss. If anything, it freed up the rest of my day to simply wander around and take in the atmosphere of Nukus at a more leisurely pace.
I walked to downtown Nukus, which wasn’t far. I stopped by the park in front of the Department of Civil Registry Office before heading over to see the Government Office of Karakalpakstan. Next, I made my way to the central bazaar, which was absolutely bustling. Despite the chaos, this turned out to be my favourite bazaar in Uzbekistan – not because of the goods (which are fairly standard across the country) but because no one hassled me to buy anything. I picked up some trail mix as a snack for my upcoming Aral Sea tour, grabbed a pizza-like snack for lunch, and even found a Coke Zero – a rarity in Central Asia, though working fridges are even rarer. Most sodas here are sugared and served lukewarm – even in restaurants!
It was fascinating to explore a part of Uzbekistan that neither boasts ancient landmarks nor caters to tourists. Nukus is a classic Soviet-style city – functional, unadorned, and lacking the architectural grandeur found elsewhere in the country. There’s little here to attract visitors, aside from the Savitsky Museum and the city’s role as the gateway to the Aral Sea. It may not be a beautiful city (unless you have an appreciation for Soviet Brutalist architecture), but it’s comfortable, orderly, and clean. Most importantly, the locals are incredibly kind and helpful, and as a solo female traveller, I felt completely safe.
I then walked down to the Doslyk Canal for a stroll, hoping to find a bench where I could sit, relax, and enjoy my lunch. However, there were only a few benches, and they were all occupied. After a pleasant walk along the canal, I decided to head back to the hotel to take full advantage of my fancy room.
Before returning, I stopped by a souvenir shop in search of a Karakalpakstan magnet to add to my travel magnet collection. Not only did I find one, but I also stumbled upon a really cool cap featuring traditional Karakalpak weaving – my favourite find on the entire trip!
I spent a few hours relaxing and getting some work done at the hotel before meeting up with a fellow traveller from Canada, who would be joining me on the Aral Sea tour. For dinner, we went to a Turkish restaurant next to the hotel, which was beautifully decorated for Ramadan. I had a fresh salad, rice with vegetables, and a delicious strawberry lemonade.
Back at the hotel, I wrapped up a bit more work before finally calling it a night, excited for the adventure that awaited the following day!
Leave a Comment