This is downtown Tashkent. 2 million people. Clean, with lots of parks and green space.
I don’t know the difference between a burro, a mule, or a donkey, but this was a fairly common site throughout Uzbekistan. The odd thing was, no-one ever honked at them or got mad or irritated with them. They’d wait at red lights like everyone else, use hand signals, and cause mild congestion, and they were accepted by everyone as normal.
And when they needed “fuel,” they’d pull over to the nearest park and fill-er-up. The bag that lady is holding is full of fresh grass that she hand-cut with a small scythe.