{"id":578264,"date":"2026-11-15T11:08:36","date_gmt":"2026-11-15T10:08:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/estherjacobs.info\/?p=578264"},"modified":"2026-11-15T11:08:36","modified_gmt":"2026-11-15T10:08:36","slug":"let-adventure-take-the-lead","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/estherjacobs.info\/en\/blog\/let-adventure-take-the-lead\/","title":{"rendered":"What happens when you let adventure take the lead?"},"content":{"rendered":"

What happens when you let adventure take the lead?<\/h1>\n<\/div>
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Twelve adventure rules, two entrepreneurs and a week of surprises in Uzbekistan.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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\"Esther<\/span><\/div><\/div>
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\u201cNo dessert. No cake. Finished.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>

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We were sitting in an almost empty hotel at the end of a road in the mountains of Uzbekistan<\/a>. No internet, barely any electricity, no way of getting anywhere and, to my considerable frustration, no cake.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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A few hours later, two Russian children walked over to our table carrying two beautiful slices of chocolate cake.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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How do you get exactly what you\u2019re craving in a place where it apparently doesn\u2019t exist?<\/p>\n<\/div>

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Two entrepreneurs who can\u2019t stick to one thing<\/h2>\n<\/div>
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Victor and I met at an entrepreneurs\u2019 conference in Mexico in May 2025. He was 24, French, and had just sold his first business. I was 55 and had just retired. Or started a sabbatical. We clicked straight away.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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We\u2019re both the kind of people who have a thousand ideas, can do a hundred things at once and see possibilities everywhere. People regularly tell us to focus on one thing. We tend to get excited about all the things we could do. And when we have a good idea, we want to start immediately.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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At the conference, the next presentation was about to begin. We looked at each other and gave the tiniest nod. Shall we? No further discussion needed. Moments later we\u2019d slipped away, giggling like schoolchildren, to see what we could find in the city.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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\"Esther<\/span><\/div><\/div>
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\"Esther<\/span><\/div><\/div>
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We met again in Paris and Amsterdam. Each time, we ended up doing something silly and unexpected. Eventually we decided we should go on a longer adventure together. More than a year after we first met, we picked Uzbekistan almost at random. Victor would be coming from Moscow, I\u2019d be flying from Bangkok, and it was somewhere in the middle.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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We\u2019d meet in Tashkent and spend a week exploring, with no fixed itinerary and no list of sights we had to tick off.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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To work out what adventure meant to us and how we wanted to travel together, we came up with twelve adventure rules. They were a playful invitation to stretch ourselves, rather than another set of obligations.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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ADVENTURE RULES \ud83c\uddfa\ud83c\uddff<\/h2>\n<\/div>

Esther & Victor\u2019s Guide to Unique Experiences, Getting Lost & Feeling Alive<\/p>\n<\/div>

1. THE YES RULE<\/h3>\n<\/div>

When a local suggests something that isn\u2019t a sales pitch, we say YES. Tea with grandma? Yes. A random wedding? Yes. Mysterious food we can\u2019t identify? Yes. An invitation from a local automatically takes priority over our plans, unless safety, sleep or common sense says otherwise.<\/p>\n<\/div>

2. THE STRANGER RULE<\/h3>\n<\/div>

If someone starts talking to us, we join in. No pretending we haven\u2019t heard. A few words, a smile, a shared moment. Let\u2019s see where it goes.<\/p>\n<\/div>

3. THE DETOUR RULE<\/h3>\n<\/div>

Wrong turn? Interesting alley? Strange noise? We investigate before turning back. Once a day, each of us gets to say: \u201cI have no idea what this is, but let\u2019s go!\u201d And the other has to come along.<\/p>\n<\/div>

4. THE FOLLOW THAT CAT RULE \ud83d\udc08<\/h3>\n<\/div>

If a cat, or another interesting animal, catches our attention and heads off somewhere, we follow it. Down an alley? Fine. Around the corner? Of course. Who knows where we\u2019ll end up?<\/p>\n<\/div>

5. THE MARKET RULE<\/h3>\n<\/div>

At every local market, we each have to buy or try something we\u2019ve never seen, tasted or experienced before. Bonus points if we have absolutely no idea what it is.<\/p>\n<\/div>

6. THE NO CHAIN RULE<\/h3>\n<\/div>

No Starbucks, McDonald\u2019s, international hotel restaurants or other places we could just as easily find at home. Local beats familiar. Unless it\u2019s a genuine emergency.<\/p>\n<\/div>

7. THE RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS RULE \u2764\ufe0f<\/h3>\n<\/div>

Every day, we do something kind for someone without expecting anything in return. Feed a stray animal, help an older woman, practise English with an enthusiastic student, or buy something from the market trader who seems to need it most. We could even set aside a little kindness budget for the trip.<\/p>\n<\/div>

8. THE ALIVENESS RULE \ud83d\udd25<\/h3>\n<\/div>

Every day, we do at least one thing that makes us feel truly ALIVE. Something new, exciting, ridiculous, embarrassing or completely outside our comfort zone. Adrenaline, laughter, giggles, butterflies. If it makes your heart beat faster or puts a huge grin on your face, it counts. If you give the other person that feeling, it counts double.<\/p>\n<\/div>

9. THE PHOTO & STORY RULE \ud83d\udcf8<\/h3>\n<\/div>

Every day, we capture at least one ordinary moment that shows what Uzbekistan actually feels like. Everyday life, beyond the famous sights. Each evening, we both choose our story of the day. It doesn\u2019t have to be the best moment. It\u2019s the story we\u2019ll still be telling in ten years.<\/p>\n<\/div>

10. THE ONE VETO RULE<\/h3>\n<\/div>

We each get ONE veto for the entire trip. No explanation required. Use it wisely. Once it\u2019s gone, it\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n<\/div>

11. THE NO COMPLAINING RULE<\/h3>\n<\/div>

You\u2019re allowed to complain, but it has to be funny. If you can\u2019t make the other person laugh, stop complaining.<\/p>\n<\/div>

12. THE LAST-DAY RULE<\/h3>\n<\/div>

On our last day, we have to do something we would never have thought of before the adventure began.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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\"Illustration<\/span><\/div><\/div>
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Taking the metro when you really don\u2019t want to<\/h2>\n<\/div>
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On our first day, we wandered around Tashkent before deciding to visit Chorsu Bazaar. Victor suggested taking the metro. I immediately resisted. I have absolutely no sense of direction, and the thought of figuring out an unfamiliar metro system didn\u2019t appeal to me. A taxi seemed much easier.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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But we took the metro. And it turned out to be beautiful. Some of Tashkent\u2019s stations look like palaces, with chandeliers, mosaics and spectacular ceilings. For around twenty euro cents, you can travel from one magnificent station to the next.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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\"Esther<\/span><\/div><\/div>
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\"Decorated<\/span><\/div><\/div>
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Letting our senses lead us through the bazaar<\/h2>\n<\/div>
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At Chorsu Bazaar, we let our senses choose the route. We wandered through little streets full of smells, sounds and food. An older woman in traditional clothes passed us, pushing a pram loaded with homemade dishes. We bought a crisp, square pastry that turned out to be filled with spinach. Delicious.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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At another stall, I spotted little bundles of vine leaves. Assuming they were dolma, stuffed with rice and meat, I bought one. When we opened it, it was just a bundle of leaves. Oops. Wrong purchase. But Victor said: \u201cShall we try them anyway?\u201d They were lovely. Apparently they\u2019d been cooked in some sort of broth.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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A little later, I heard a rhythmic chopping sound. We followed it to a small, tucked-away stall where a man was preparing plov, the local rice dish. He chopped fatty mutton into strips and spooned it over the rice. We sat down to eat. A woman brought us salad and tea, which seemed to be part of the deal. We paid afterwards: about \u20ac3.50.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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If we both notice it, we have to try it<\/h2>\n<\/div>
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After the market, Victor suggested taking the metro for a stop or two and seeing where we ended up. We picked a station because we liked its name.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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We emerged in a curious park full of artificial animals and trees. There were giraffes and elephants shaped from hedges, although on closer inspection, some of the plants were fake too. A few men even let us into a section that was officially closed.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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Then we spotted a little red plastic double-decker bus. A miniature London bus, clearly intended for children. I saw Victor looking. He saw me looking. \u201cOh, look at that bus!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>

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On our own, neither of us would probably have got in. Together, noticing the same thing was reason enough to give it a go. So there we were: two grown-up entrepreneurs riding around a park in Tashkent in a plastic children\u2019s bus, giggling like schoolchildren.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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We also came across a tourist attraction offering a 3D film. I\u2019d loved a similar experience in Kazakhstan<\/a>, where you seemed to fly over the country, so I suggested we try it. This version was a little less impressive. The picture was grainy, and the moving seats didn\u2019t quite match the action on screen. Still, it gave us a glimpse of the country.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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It was Victor\u2019s first time doing anything like it, and to my surprise, the moving seat frightened him a little. I thought he was joking. Later, I discovered just how real that fear was.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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The tourist trap that wasn\u2019t<\/h2>\n<\/div>
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The following day, we wanted to get out of the city, so we booked a private mountain tour through GetYourGuide. On the way, our guide suggested stopping for somsa: filled pastries baked in a traditional clay oven.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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The car park was packed. My first thought was: oh no, a tourist trap. Keep driving. But Victor said: \u201cShall we at least have a look?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>

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It was Sunday. All those cars belonged to local families stopping for a bite on their way to the mountains. There wasn\u2019t another tourist in sight.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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They sold several kinds of somsa, including one filled with horse meat, which is eaten in parts of Central Asia, including Uzbekistan and neighbouring Kazakhstan. Naturally, Victor ordered one.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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Two men were working at the clay oven, sticking pastries to its scorching inner walls with incredible speed and precision. It was fascinating. I wanted to film it, but our guide said the owner didn\u2019t allow it. So I asked the men themselves, pointing at my camera. They nodded yes.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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\u201cBut the owner doesn\u2019t want it!\u201d our guide protested again. The men doing the work seemed happy enough, so I took a short video.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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We ate wonderful somsa, watched the families enjoying their weekend outing, and acquired a cat who settled comfortably on my lap.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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