Academic life · Culture · Personal reflection

Why I Moved from Japan to Uzbekistan: Research, Culture, and a New Beginning

August 2026 · 7 min read

Registan Square in Samarkand at night

Registan Square, Samarkand. Photo by Kraftabbas, Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0.

I never expected to move to Uzbekistan. My relocation happened at the time of my first visit to the country. Yet Uzbekistan was not entirely unfamiliar to me. As an Iranian, I had known the names Samarkand and Bukhara since childhood through Persian poetry, history, and cultural memory.

اگر آن ترک شیرازی به دست آرد دل ما را
به خال هندویش بخشم سمرقند و بخارا را

If that beloved of Shiraz were to take my heart captive, I would give even Samarkand and Bukhara for one small dark beauty mark on her face.

Hafez is not making a literal offer. He uses a deliberate exaggeration: these cities were symbols of beauty, learning, wealth, and cultural prestige. Seeing them in real life gives a special feeling to someone who has met them first through literature.

What Japan gave me

Japan gave me a great deal: close friends, generous colleagues, serious academic opportunities, and a peaceful rhythm of life that I will always value. OIST was especially meaningful. It was a creative international community where a conversation over coffee could connect people from different fields and become the beginning of a new idea or collaboration.

My time in Japan was also an important period of professional growth. I was fortunate to receive two competitive JSPS KAKENHI research grants, which gave me the opportunity to develop my research independently and pursue ambitious ideas. Just as valuable, I found many outstanding Japanese collaborators whose insight, reliability, and generosity have shaped my work. These relationships became genuine friendships as well as research partnerships, and I deeply value them.

I will never forget Tokyo in autumn or during the cherry-blossom season. Japan has challenges, like every country, but as a foreigner I found it remarkably respectful and welcoming. The kindness of people and the care in everyday service made daily life feel comfortable. Japan remains an important part of my life, and I continue to keep active research affiliations and collaborations with Japanese colleagues.

Why Uzbekistan

The move was not a rejection of Japan. It was a decision to begin a new chapter and to work where I feel my experience can have a more direct effect. I wanted to contribute through teaching, research, mentoring, and international cooperation.

Some Japanese friends asked why I would leave an established research environment for a young university. My answer was simple: Japan already has many excellent people with experience similar to mine. In Uzbekistan there may be fewer people with the same background, so I may be able to be more useful to students, research, and society. This is not a criticism of Japan; it is about where I feel I can contribute most directly.

I joined New Uzbekistan University at an early stage of its development. Building research culture, international networks, and graduate opportunities takes time. But that is exactly why the work is meaningful. I value the chance to help build something and to create opportunities for young researchers.

A familiar cultural connection

Persian literature has never been limited to the borders of present-day Iran. Bukhara, Samarkand, Herat, Balkh, Shiraz, and Isfahan belong to a larger literary and intellectual world. Bukhara was an important centre of Persian learning under the Samanids, and Rudaki—often called the father of Persian poetry—was a poet at the Samanid court.

ای بخارا شاد باش و دیر زی
میر زی تو شادمان آید همی

O Bukhara, be joyful and live long: the ruler returns to you in happiness.

That shared history does not reduce Uzbekistan’s distinct identity. Rather, it helps explain why the country can feel culturally familiar to an Iranian. In Tashkent I sometimes notice Persian or Persian-influenced words, names, and small everyday connections. More than once, a taxi driver has recognised that I am Iranian and played Iranian music. These small gestures have made me smile; I had not experienced this kind of unexpected familiarity elsewhere abroad.

Learning and living in Tashkent

Tashkent has been a positive surprise. The first things I noticed were its safety, cleanliness, green public spaces, and diversity. Daily life has a simple ease: taxis are affordable, fresh fruit is everywhere, and I can eat watermelon almost every day—something that often felt like a luxury in Japan.

Uzbek and Russian are both widely heard in the city. I want to learn Uzbek because I live and work here, and I want to communicate more deeply with the people around me. I am also motivated to learn Russian. Reading Pushkin, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Chekhov in their original language would be a pleasure, even if the language will require patience and time.

Looking forward

For me, success is not only the name of an institution, a salary, or a career in a particular country. It is the possibility of having a positive impact, working in a place that respects my values, and being useful to other people. I hope to build bridges between Uzbekistan, Japan, Iran, and the wider research community.

I also hope to support talented students from Uzbekistan and Iran through research collaboration, mentoring, internships, and assistant roles when appropriate. As the university grows, I hope that more students will find paths toward graduate study and international research. These opportunities depend on academic progress, university policy, and funding, but creating such pathways is an important part of why I am here.

This move is a professional decision, but it is also a personal new beginning. I am grateful for Japan, excited by Uzbekistan, and hopeful about the work that can grow between the two.

Literary and historical references: Encyclopaedia Iranica; Rudaki on Ganjoor; hero image attribution.

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