Kyrgyzstan – Culture and Travel

Phase three, the tourist phase, started as we left Mr Bakyt, Adina and the horsemen behind and set off on our journey to the south-west of the country. We were heading to the small town of Kyzyl-Oy. We travelled initially on the main highway between Naryn and Bishkek, as far as Kachkot, where we deposited the walking guide, Oulan. He had proved extremely good, accommodating and informative. Shortly afterwards we turned off on to a grit road, meaning that we could not travel as fast. While the view out of the window was never without its interest, it was not until we ran alongside the Kokomeren River and then the Sinusamyr River, that it became really fascinating. Not only were these two rivers raging torrents of white water, the scenery around them was spectacular, and, with the late afternoon sun on the rocks, it brought out fantastic colouring.

We reached our homestay in the early evening and half an hour later dinner was ready. But that was not the highlight for most, that being the ability to have a hot shower. After nearly two weeks of washing in rivers, or not washing, it was a genuine pleasure to feel hot water and soap all over.

After breakfast, we were off again, continuing our journey along the mesmerisingly turbulent Sinusmeyr River, climbing all the time to a high valley that widened out into a massive plain with high mountains bordering it on all sides. They were only just clear as the atmosphere was much hazier than we had previously experienced.

With another mountain range looming towards us we joined highway 41, the main highway between Bishkek and Osh. Now the journey was much smoother and quicker.

 

 

 

 

 

All along the route were yurts where they not only looked after their livestock on the vast openness of the mountainsides but also sold refreshments to passing motorists. Gradually we climbed to over 3000m where we crossed the Ala-Bel Pass. The descent brought us into the Chychkan Zoological State Reserve where we found our guesthouse in the Chychkan Gorge.

We had arrived in good time and Alex offered to take us on a walk but it was a relief that we could say, “No.” With quite a bit of travelling, the trek and the horse riding, all we really wanted to do was to relax and take it easy. Sandie, Simon and I took the ultimate opportunity to relax by taking a one hour massage each with a Russian masseurs called Elena. In conversation with her she told me she spoke Russian, Turkish, Italian and English, but not Kyrgyz. I couldn’t understand how you can be born in a country, live in it for over forty years and not be able to speak the language.

The evening meal was also a pleasant change from the normal soup and main course, which I have begun to realise are too greasy for my liking.

Tonight I had trout, and it was delicious.

The next morning started well with probably the best breakfast to date. However, it did not last long. Having passed through Toktogul and travelled around the eastern side of Toktogul Reservoir, we climbed to the top of the pass and came to a standstill. The fan belt had slipped and stretched and the engine overheated. Basically, we were screwed. Another Sprinter minibus came by and all of its passengers climbed out, passed an opinion to that effect and drove off.

Another vehicle was summoned from Arsonbob to rescue us but, having already spent over an hour on the top of the pass, it would take another three hours for it to arrive.

In fact it took four hours for it to arrive. It was a fairly uncomfortable time as the shade temperature reached 38C. It was difficult to know what to do; it was too hot everywhere but there was more comfortable seating in the bus, but it was slightly cooler sitting outside.

For a while we watched three lads picking up discarded bottles from the side of the road, and there were a lot for them to pick up. It was pleasing to see something being done, but as we watched we realised it was an impossible task. It turned out they only had four bags and as they filled them they emptied them on to the ground creating a pile. What would happen to that pile is anybody’s guess, but judging from evidence just on the other side of the pass, they are fighting a losing battle. A pile of bottles had been created there but over time the wind had redistributed it all over the hill. While we sat there watching, we saw vehicles slow down and throw their empty bottles out of the window. This is clearly a very serious problem in Kyrgyzstan and somebody needs to get a grip of it, and quickly.

On all our road journeys we have noticed a ten metre corridor on either side of discarded bottles. Most are plastic but there is also a large number of glass vodka bottles, which, if they break, become an additional hazard. I don’t want to remember Kyrgyzstan for this but for the absolute beauty of its landscapes.

We played silly games to wile away the time, read, mooched about and tried to remain positive. In the context of things going wrong it was only a few hours of discomfort.

After five and a half hours of sweating it out a relief vehicle arrived. We transferred everything into the new minibus and we left Sergei to wait for his father to come from Bishkek with the new part that was needed to repair the bus.

Forty five minutes after starting the long journey to Arsanbob, we stopped for lunch (at 5.30!). It was a relief to sit in an air conditioned restaurant and to drink a cold beer, as well as eat some very tasty chicken.

Despite it being late in the day, it was still incredibly hot as we climbed, refreshed, into our minibus. The journey now took us through some incredible scenery, which, because we had tinted windows, was impossible to photograph.

Toktogul Reservoir, which we left behind some hours ago, is the largest Reservoir in Central Asia. The River Naryn flows into it. When the river flows out of it another series of dams creates finger-like lakes that snake down the valley. The mountains that plunge down to the water are stunning and almost devoid of vegetation. The evening light just highlighted their beauty, and their starkness. Each finger lake feeds a hydro electric station. There are five in total and the electricity produced serves a wide area including parts of Uzbekistan and southern Kazakhstan. The River Naryn continues and eventually flows into the Aral Sea. It was a little frustrating, because, had we not broken down, we would have had plenty of time to stop and photograph these stunning finger lakes.

Eventually the mountains shrank. Our altitude dropped to below 800m, the landscape flattened and there was agriculture on both sides of the road. Here the road runs parallel to the border with Uzbekistan, which I have to say looked very flat and uninteresting after the two weeks of scenery we had experienced so far. Interestingly, the Kyrgyzstan side of the border was dry and barren, while the Uzbekistan side was green and lush. They have obviously been far more proactive in establishing a useful irrigation scheme using Kyrgyz water.

Gradually, the light faded and we finished the journey in darkness at 10.00pm, hot, sweaty and not at all wanting the full meal that had been prepared for us. Fortunately, I had spoken to Alex about this and our hosts had been advised by him of the situation. The last thing I wanted us to do was to offend our hosts by not eating the food that would, undoubtedly, test the strength of the table legs! As a result, what they gave us was perfect, a little salad, some fruit, just a little savoury and some tea. Perfect.

 

 

 

 

 

It was interesting waking up and stepping out of my room on to the the balcony to find out my surroundings. I looked out on to tree covered hillsides, the bulk of the trees being walnut. Arsanbob has the largest walnut forest in the world and this much needed super food has made the area more prosperous than many we had travelled through. To my left, over the roof of the house was a wall of rocky mountain with patches of snow. This was the 4427m Babash Ata, the highest peak in the Babash Ata Range. It forms a stunning backdrop.

While I was in the shower at about 6.00am I heard the arrival of a minibus. It was Sergei. His father met him where we had broken down at 11.00pm, bringing the required parts with him. Sergei managed to complete the repair by 2.00am and then drove immediately to join us.

After breakfast we drove the 6km into the centre of Arsanbob where we left Sergei to catch up on sleep, and walked to a small waterfall on the edge of the village. I guess the water tumbles about 20m over a rock shelf. The route leading up to the waterfall is lined with lots of stalls selling very tatty toys, sweets and little knick-knacks, none of which held any appeal. Just before we reached the waterfall there was a small cave, The Cave of Angels, of significance to Muslims. There was nothing special about the waterfall and we quickly passed it. Up a small slope was a cafe so I suggested coffee. We hadn’t had one for two weeks. It was served by a woman with a monobrow, a straight line of hair right across her forehead. Despite asking for no sugar, they all came with it and it was very sickly sweet.

On the way back through the stalls, I challenged Simon to a duel on the shooting range. It ended in a draw. On another stall I challenged him at throwing darts at balloons. Another draw and we won a Rubric’s Cube.

From there we followed a path through walnut trees that lead us to a viewpoint over the town. It reminded me very much of places like Darjeeling and Shimla, although not a built up, with houses spaced out among the walnut trees. It was very peaceful. One overlooking it all was the impressive Babash Ata.

On the way back to the minibus, and the sleeping Sergei, we stopped off at the market. It was busy with midday shoppers. Everybody we came across was extremely friendly, from children going up to the waterfall, the stall holders to the people in the market. Many wanted to have their photo taken with us. We were made to feel very welcome by all.

After a superb lunch at the house our host took us to a nearby lake for a swim. The lake, although pretty in its surroundings, was not particularly pretty in itself. The shallows were high growing reefs making access difficult. There was really only one point of entry where somebody had cut down the reeds. Instead of the turquoise blue waters of other lakes and rivers we have visited on this trip, the water of this lake was black. Bubbles of methane occasionally drifted to the surface, a surface that seemed to have a layer upon it. Nevertheless, having gone there with the intention of having a swim, that is what I did, diving in from the platform of cut back reeds. The water was pleasantly warm but I made sure I kept my mouth well and truly closed. I wasn’t the only swimmer as Chris, Terry and Claire joined me.

Later, just before dinner five Kyrgyz musicians and a translator came to the house to entertain us. There were two long horn players, two drummers, one of whom also sang, and a hobby horse. It was a lot of fun, especially the competition to see which of us could play the horn the best. We men were useless, but Claire came a close second to Chris who played with some expertise. Clearly, having passed Grade 5 trumpet has its benefits.

Dinner tonight was superb, the main course being stuffed peppers. This household really know how to look after us.

It is always a disappointment when things don’t go according to plan. The day started off well enough when we left our delightful hosts in Arsanbob, and the journey was going smoothly until, 80km from Osh, there was an unnatural and ominous sound from the engine. We pulled over, and after a quick inspection under the bonnet it was apparent that we had a similar problem with the fan belt. Only there was no fan belt. The bolt securing the renewed part of the engine had sheared off rendering us well and truly broken. Alex retrieved the fan belt from a short distance behind us and the rest of us scoured the road and verge for any possible sign of the bolt. No luck.

We were, however, extremely fortunate, for shortly after we came to rest a van pulled up in front of us and the driver could not have been more helpful, despite having a pregnant wife with him. He assessed the situation, attached a tow rope and stayed with us until a relief vehicle arrived two hours later. He even gave us succulent nectarines. He was certainly an angel and did far more than we could have dreamed of in the circumstances. After we left in a relief vehicle he towed our bus all the way to Osh where he had arranged for it to be repaired. Wow, you don’t come across people like that every day!

It was while we were waiting for our relief bus that I went for a bit of a wander, and in doing so came across at least five discarded Morrison’s plastic bags. I am determined to pursue this when I get home. I know they cannot be blamed for what people in Kyrgyzstan do with their bags but why are they here in the first place? Morrison’s bags can be seen everywhere in Kyrgyzstan, in all sorts of shops, and, worryingly, all along the road verge!

Osh is somewhere that I have wanted to go for some time. The city of Osh has been around for over three thousand years. It is a city well and truly entrenched in the Silk Road, a city of history, culture and religion. I had high expectations of Osh but I found it hugely disappointing. There was no old city, just a modern grid city. There were no iconic mosques, no earthen walls, no ancient Silk Road bazaars, just a modern, fairly featureless city. The only feature of interest was Suleiman-Too, a holy Muslim site. It is supposedly the throne of Solomon, but he was born and died in Israel and never visited Kyrgyzstan. Hence, as far as I am concerned, it lost some of its significance. It didn’t help that it was excruciatingly hot and we all felt incredibly uncomfortable. Looking down on to the city below, the dominant feature was roofs and little else.

Leaving Suleiman-Too, we headed for the bazaar. Unfortunately, this did not live up to expectation as we all had different desires. It had its interest and would have been better if we could have split up for an hour or so, but it was so vast, it would have been very easy to get lost. The majority of it was a lot of tat rather than the quality craft products we were hoping for. With some despondency we followed Alex back to the bus and went to the hotel to check in. Even that was a disappointment. It was a long way out of town, virtually confining is to the hotel. It seemed lifeless. There was nobody about; it didn’t have any buzz about it. The rooms were vast and comfortable. The restaurant food was good but had no atmosphere and was dominated by a television screen, which, as we were the only diners, asked to have turned off.

What a disappointment Osh was. We had travelled a long way to get there, not without some hardship, and it failed to deliver in the same way that the trekking and horse riding had.

It was with some relief that the following morning we flew back to Bishkek.

Even driving from the airport to the hotel it was easy to see that Bishkek has more to offer than Osh. Perhaps it should, but it’s buildings are more impressive, even if some of them are lady over from the Soviet era. There is more colour, more vibrancy, more life about Bishkek.

With a little time to spare before lunch, the priority was a cool down in the swimming pool, to soak nearly three weeks of travel away.

I then had a brief chat with Alex and Natalie. It was she with whom I had made all the plans with for this trip. Nothing was ever too much trouble for her and she has done a fantastic job on this occasion. I used it as an opportunity to give her some initial feedback on the various aspects which caused me some concern – basic facilities, quality of some of the accommodation for a group of this nature, litter and the protection of the environment etc. She asked if I had any plans to return with a group and I felt guilty when I replied, ‘not in the foreseeable future.’

For lunch we returned to Azure, the restaurant we visited on our first day, but this time we were much more confident in our choice of food. I still wasn’t brave enough to try the horse rectum!

Afterwards, we crossed the road to a small gift/antique shop to satisfy the shopping needs of the group. It proved a good decision as it avoided all the tat that tends to be on sale in more touristy shops. Guess what bags they put our goods in. Yes, Morrison’s!

Then, back to the hotel for another swim, a beer or two and a bit of relaxation before tomorrow’s flight home, which, I am sure will go smoothly and will not require comment.

So, to sum up this trip, I think it is safe to say that it has been a success. I don’t think everybody has found it easy at times, but I think it is important for people to leave their comfort zone occasionally, provided it is safe. People have faced their fears, tackled them head on and succeeded. It has been a trip of exceptional views, of wonderful experiences, of cultural immersion and, in hindsight, a lot of fun. I think everybody will look back on their Kyrgyzstan experiences with a sense of achievement, with fond memories of the welcoming and friendly Kyrgyz people and with some pride with what they have achieved. I certainly will.

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