Yangiobod, Again

Every visit to Yangiobod flea market in Tashkent is different. Vendors, weather, stuff, junk. The place is begging to be photographed. Again.

Shopping for clothes during the apocalypse.

A humble cot within a grim hardscape. A history of Tzarist china on the tables.

The bicycle cave.

Art mashup. Old Russian Lada and Volga automobile parts.

Looking a bit like a major crime scene tenting.

The Amazing Yangiobod Market

Think of your standard flea market and multiply it by 10. Or 50. Just make it huge. Plop it down in a dusty area by some railroad tracks, have it sprawl in and out and around a set of musty, dark warehouses. Sell everything, mostly used. Tools, clothes, auto parts, restaurant equipment. Some of your vendors have regular stalls, shops, areas. 

Many of your vendors are weekend junk collectors with a blanket of their finest products. Which means, they cleaned out some old lady's apartment a few days earlier. Score!

A pause before the dive.

The range of products. A regular stall, specializing in bolts, etc.. and a typical table of a someone's junk. Or treasures.

Young patriot. She helps her grandfather at his camera, telescope stall.

Old Soviet era stuff is around. "Who's bust can I interest you in today?" Moving off the cult of past personality, a suitcase filled with family snapshots.

Oh boy. One of the more interesting rooms, a musty-looking and -smelling place, filled with old art. Let's just call it the Salon of Yangiobod.

Back outside, another typical spread, a real random mix of stuff. "I need a meat grinder, a suitcase and a long brown coat and I don't have a lot of time." Whew! Not everything is inanimate. There's a pet/live animal section. You choose whether it's a pet or dinner, no judgement.

The lonely plant seller.