I first met Yuliya on the Internet not because I was looking for a date, but because of my fascination with Central Asia. Yuliya, 24, is an Uzbek of Korean descent, born and raised in Tashkent, Uzbekistan, a former republic of the Soviet Union. It was given its independence in 1991. Culturally, however, Yuliya is Korean Russian, as Russian is her primary language.

Wait. Koreans in Uzbekistan? OK, let me back up a bit.

Some of Yuliya’s great grandparents were among the 200,000 Koreans who migrated and settled in Siberia, from the 1860s to 1937. Three of her four grandparents were born in Russia, and one was born in North Korea. All four, however, are of Korean descent. From there, her family, along with many others, were forcibly resettled in Central Asia during World War II because Stalin feared that Korean Russians would become a fifth column element during the war, fighting with the Japanese.

Now, according to Uzbekistan’s 1999 census, one percent of its 24 million residents is of Korean descent. In Tashkent, the percentage of Koreans are estimated to make up 2 to 4 percent of the populace.

So, after corresponding for about two years via e-mail, it was high time to visit the place of my dreams. After a very long plane ride, Yuliya and her husband, Sergey, met me at the airport in Tashkent and gave me a quick tour of the city. Later, we were joined by two of their friends, Rhinat and Stas, both of whom are of Korean descent, and settled down for a traditional Uzbek meal of samsas. These are similar to Indian samosas, but are made with lamb and onion.

TOP: Sergey, Stas and Rhinat (from left to right) at the Korean restaurant Chen Son, about to eat a dish with dog meat called kye de. BOTTOM: Korean merchants manning their stalls selling kimchi and cold noodles in Qoyliq Bazaar.

On the weekend, we went to the Korean restaurant Chen Son. Here, I ate dog for the first time, in a dish called kye de — spicy dog with parsley and leafy green vegetables. Three of us ate fairly large portions of kye de, rice, soup, noodles and beef for a total of $9, including tip!

Then my hosts gave me a tour of the nearby Qoyliq Bazaar, which is an open-air market where many of the merchants are Korean. It was a cornucopia of different sights, smells and sounds. We passed through several Korean food stalls. At this point, Sergey said, with a hint of pride, “Most Koreans don’t work at the market. Most of us are doctors, lawyers, engineers. We are educated, and there is no better education system than the Russian one. It is even better than America’s.”

Later that day, Rhinat, Stas and I went to a banya, which is a combination Russian bath and sauna. We constantly rotated between the blistering heat of the sauna and the cold pool water, and shared a little bit about ourselves.

Rhinat, a Muslim name used by both Tatars and Kazaks, said he is half Korean, one-quarter Kazak and one-quarter Tartar. He considers himself to be a Russian man who is Korean, Kazak and Tartar. He was educated in Russian schools in Uzbekistan, and because he used to live in Russia, it’s his primary language.