Garden oasis of trees, parks and fountains

I have just sat in a local bar with Tony Evans and others, watching Chelsea play Manchester City in the English Premier League.

We've talked about the old stuff. A bit of London past, other countries we like, people we know, Chelsea's good defence, great keeper and the rubbish referee.

Then we have walked out and stopped cars (not taxis) and, in Russian, Tony has argy-bargied a price to go back to our hotel (a couple of dollars) and we've jumped in. They're just people on the way home themselves, making a few dollars on the side.

And then we sit in the bar of the Hotel City Palace for a "cleanser" before bed, and talk about F1, what Lewis Hamilton is, and what James Hunt was, and turned in to our respective, comfortable, five- star rooms.

And all this has happened on a Sunday night in Uzbekistan.

If I point out that we are in Tashkent and, relatively, a stone's throw from its southern neighbour Afghanistan, that might give you a better idea where we are.

"Is it safe?"

"Who'd want to go there?"

The questions ring out.

Well, let me quickly, and in no particular order, give you an idea of how we have spent the day in Tashkent on this peaceful, warm autumn weekend, as just one day on the Five Stans tour that Tony has conceived, researched, developed and is now leading for Leederville-based touring company Travel Directors.

The streets are wide and quiet, and we visit the Museum of Applied Arts for a leisurely walk around the embroidery, pottery, clothing design and the sheer beauty of the interior of plasterwork and paint.

In the big courtyard people sit under an oak tree, in simple contemplation.

Lunch is an entree of "cooked salad" of fresh vegetables. Then the next course is a light, sort-of spinach samosa, then a main course of a local version of plov - vegetables and meat in a thick, soupy brew. Then ice-cream and coffee that is so good, I just have to have two.

Then we walk again, in shade, down pedestrianised streets so wide you could park a bus sideways, and beside elegant buildings, to a park full of statues and wide walkways and trees and thick grass. Tashkent has 150,000km of canals, running through its parks and suburbs. All locals need to buy is a hose and pump; the water is free.

It runs from epic mountains near this city of at least two million people, down these freshwater canals (in which the children play endlessly in summer) and then big concrete irrigation channels running through the city. It is not surprising that this is a garden city - a green city. It is full of parks, and places to sit and eat, and families in those parks.

It is a friendly city, a refined city: a city of maturity and with history.

Zoroastrians once practised a philosophy based on the teachings of Zarathustra and dating back to somewhere before the 6th century BC, and once one of the world's biggest religions as the faithful followed the path of goodness.

Buddhism came about AD600, Islam first arrived here early in the 8th century, Sufism (a reaction against the strictness of Islam's teaching structure, encouraging followers to communicate directly with God) in the 8th to 9th century, and the city was destroyed by Genghis Khan in 1219 and taken by Tsarist Russia in 1865. It became a Soviet republic in 1918, lost an estimated 1.5 million young men who fought against the nazis in World War II, was destroyed by an earthquake of 7.5 magnitude on the Richter scale in 1966 (and rebuilt in planned fashion) and became independent after the Soviet collapse in 1991.

This is its story, in very brief form, but today Tashkent is a place of trees, parks, fountains and statues.

We have walked through old laneways full of adobe-built homes - mudbrick walls flaking in places to reveal their fibrous texture.

And we have wandered what is one of the cleanest markets I have ever seen, with beautiful produce elegantly displayed.

Bread is baked here, there's almost every type of nut you can name, dried fruit, sugar in big, gold crystals, meat handled like the precious and delicate thing it is, without bruising.

The little suburbs have leaders, too, who are responsible for making sure they are clean, and pull up anyone not meeting the standard.

The square with the main mosque and library containing religious books is topped by a minaret but there is no regular call to prayer. This is a secular country, though 80 per cent Muslim and home to about 65 nationalities. When the Soviets took over, they lit a fire and invited covered women to come and liberate themselves and burn their veils, and be equal to men, and educated, we hear at the museum. And there is one veil on display which is made, in the old tradition, of horsehair.

There is a new library, old cobbled streets, constant change, solid history - and, as Anait Garaev, showing us around, puts it, you can "feel the spirit of Tashkent".

I like the modern spaces, but the old laneways too. They are lined by poplars - 40 are planted when a boy is born and harvested when he is 18 to build him a house. People will come to help, and be sent home if they're in a bad mood, as it is felt that might lodge in the building.

And, on this beautiful early morning, front doors are open.

"It is tradition," Anait says. "It is our tradition to leave the front door open in the morning, to welcome everyone."