KAZAKHSTAN
NAURYZ.

The day belongs to Almaty. We start at the Green Bazaar, a Soviet-era trading hall stacked with dried fruits. From there into Panfilov Park, to the war memorial and the eternal flame still burning. The afternoon highlight is the Zenkov Cathedral, one of the tallest wooden buildings on the planet, built in 1907 without a single nail. We close the day with a Russian dinner, pelmeni and borscht, the way the city has eaten for a century. And it is Nauryz, the spring new year. Almaty spends it outdoors, with yurt villages in Central Park and around Abay Square, dombra music, games of asyk, and nauryz kozhe, a soup of seven ingredients, with baursak on the side. We walk right into it.

Morning, we point the coach east and drive five hours into the Tian Shan foothills toward Saty, a wooden Kazakh village. After lunch, we trek to Kolsai Lake 1, sitting at 1,818 metres, its surface usually still frozen in late March. Back at the homestay there's a wood-fired banya, the Russian sauna ritual, sweat in the steam, plunge into the cold, repeat. It's optional and paid separately, not part of the trip price. Dinner at the family table, then dombra music by the fireplace.

Today, the two most photographed places in Kazakhstan. Morning at Kaindy Lake, where a 1911 earthquake drowned a forest of spruce trees, and the trunks still spear up out of the lake, which is usually still frozen in late March. Afternoon at Charyn Canyon, the quieter cousin of the Grand Canyon, red sandstone walls, surreal at golden hour. Long drive back to Almaty, where we close the day at a stolovaya, a Soviet-style canteen, hot pelmeni and kompot on metal trays.

Cable car up to Shymbulak, high above Almaty at 2,260 metres. An optional banya in the evening, paid separately, then dinner is Georgian: khachapuri, the cheese-bread boat with a runny yolk in the middle, khinkali, the soup dumpling, and kebab.

A slow Almaty morning, coffee, brunch, then a couple of hours for local shopping. Pick up Kazakh felt souvenirs, leather and dried fruits. Afternoon, cable car up to Kok-Tobe, the hill that gives Almaty its skyline view - a Beatles statue is somehow there - and the sun sets over the Tian Shan. Then our last night in Almaty, out on the town together.

A slow start, brunch at the hotel, last walk around the city centre. If you booked the seven-day trip, the coach takes you to the airport for your flight home, and you leave with a full phone roll. If you are carrying on, it is a short hop to Tashkent instead, with the same group you just spent Nauryz with. You land in a different country and a different century. Dinner, then an early night, because tomorrow starts properly.

A day in Tashkent with a local guide, and we start underground. The metro is Soviet-era, every station designed differently, marble and chandeliers. It was built to double as a nuclear shelter and kept so secret that photographing it was illegal until 2018. Then the Hast Imam complex, the religious heart of the city, where the library holds what's said to be the oldest Quran in the world.

Chorsu Bazaar next, the heart of everyday life in Tashkent, with stalls of fresh produce, spices, dried fruits, nuts, sweets and handmade goods. We stop at a traditional baker to watch non, the Uzbek bread, come out of a clay oven, and if there's time you can have a go at making it yourself.

We finish with six Uzbek tastings, including samsa, manti, xanim (Uzbek pasta), fresh bread and plov, and the story behind each one.

Morning on the Afrosiyob, the high-speed train, 250 kilometres an hour with a heated carriage, a restaurant car and a window seat. Two and a quarter hours later you are in Samarkand. We start at Gur-e-Amir, Timur's tomb, because nothing else in this city makes sense until you know who he was. Then Bibi-Khanym, and straight into Siab Bazaar next door for stamped Samarkand bread while it is still warm. The Registan by late afternoon, and we stay until the floodlights come on after sunset.

Shah-i-Zinda first, a narrow corridor of tiled mausoleums climbing a hillside. In summer you would queue for it. Late March is still ahead of the spring rush. A short train down the line and Bukhara is a different animal to Samarkand, lower, older, browner, and lived in rather than looked at.

We walk the trading domes on foot, the jewellers' dome, the cap makers' dome, the money changers' dome, all built as Silk Road crossroads in the 1500s, all still full of people trading, and all of them roofed. Poi Kalyan in the afternoon and the minaret Genghis Khan is said to have refused to knock down. Later, Lyab-i-Hauz, with its 1620 pool under four-hundred-year-old mulberry trees, and we go into one of the chaikhanas on its edge for green tea.

Then plov, with local hosts in and around Bukhara. You watch the rice, carrots, onions, meat, chickpeas and spices go into a big kazan, the cauldron at the centre of Uzbek weddings and family gatherings, and while it cooks, the hosts tell you why this dish matters so much here. Ask them anything and take all the photos you want. When it's ready it's served fresh, often with salads, bread and tea, depending on the day.

Evening, we leave Bukhara for Tashkent, and the last night of the trip is there.

Out of Tashkent, and home. Khayr.