Two epic journeys, one tough travel choice: Kyrgyzstan or Uzbekistan?

By Amy Cooper

I'm a Stan fan. Show me a Central Asian country with those four letters ending a name no spelling bee contestant would ever wish to encounter, and I'm there quicker than you can say Borat. Just to be clear, Borat does not come from Kyrgyzstan - probably because nobody would ever dare mock the second smallest and by far fiercest of the seven Stans.

You do not mess with a country where instead of playing footy, men grapple a headless goat carcass on horseback at breakneck speed and where, instead of calling Uber Eats, you send your trained golden eagle to hunt down a jackal, which you will butcher yourself.

To be an influencer in Kyrgyzstan, you must be able to recite word-perfectly and by memory the 500,000 lines of your nation's immense epic poem passed down orally for more than 1000 years. In short, Kyrgyz people are badass. Light on vowels but heavy on bravery, pride, virtuosity and harmony with nature, Kyrgyzstan is one of the world's last bastions of nomadic culture. Practically born on horseback, Kyrgyz clans still follow the seasons across central Asia's highest peaks in the towering Tian Shan ranges to graze their flocks in alpine summer meadows.

It's a life of astonishing freedom and beauty, and thanks to Kyrgyz nomads' hospitality - as legendary as their history - visitors can join in. You'll be invited to sleep in a traditional yurt on the shores of glacial lakes, ride across the steppes on horses, yaks or camels, accompany the eagle hunters and their remarkable raptors, then toast your new friends with fermented mare's milk while yurt-y dancing around the open fire. You'll be high the whole time. Kyrgyzstan is about 90 per cent mountainous, with more than half the land over 2500 metres above sea level; a rarefied, unfolding wonder of needle summits soaring to more than 7000 metres amid plunging gorges, roaring waterfalls and emerald forests and meadows.

The world's second-largest mountain lake, Issyk-Kul, shimmers like a mirage surrounded by snow-capped peaks. In the icy wilds of Tash Rabat, the remains of a 15th-century Silk Road inn recall that this was once a superhighway. Now you can trek or ride for days and see nobody but the odd shepherd. Bliss.

And then there's the World Nomad Games, Kyrgyzstan's insane answer to the Olympics. At this biennial festival of unhinged heroics, next staged in 2026, you can see horseback wrestling, foot archery, bone hurling, an opening ceremony in which performers are aflame and - the Kyrgyz national sport - Kok Boru, a brutal mix of rugby and polo in which two teams on horseback battle for possession of a decapitated goat.

Meanwhile, next door in Uzbekistan, Mal might be marvelling at mosaics and minarets, but he's missing out on the most out-stan-ding Stan of all.

By Mal Chenu

The Stans of Central Asia may sound like a spin-off of The Kumars at No 42, but they are actually fascinating travel destinations, and not just so you can wait and wait and one day be a hero at pub trivia, or at an albeit less likely geography spelling bee.

Of the five Stans, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan are the most impressive if you are a place name dropper.

After your friends tell you about the cool bar they went to in Kuta, you can casually mention the magical twilight that accentuates the glazed azure tiles of the Kalta Minor Minaret in the walled city of Itchan Kala in the Khanate of Khiva.

But you can only do this if you go to Uzbekistan. If you go to Kyrgyzstan, you can tell your friends you saw some nice sheep shivering on the steppe.

Kyrgyzstan is in more danger of overgrazing than overtourism. You may think you would only travel to the Stans if you have literally been to every country. If this is the case, you would only visit Kyrgyzstan because you've been to all the other Stans.