Hello everyone from Bishkek, the Kyrgyz capital.
Miles and I have made some significant changes to our plans. We have a gap between our Kyrgyz Visa's expiry date and our Uzbek Visa's entry date, meaning that we have to get out of Kyrgyzstan and into somewhere else before we can enter Uzbekistan. Our initial plan was to try and get a Visa for Kazakhstan and pop up to hunt for Borat for a week or so before we enter Uzbekistan, but after talking to several travellers that we have met on the road, we have been convinced to go south into Tajikistan and travel the Pamir Highway: 'the highway at the roof of the world' - apparently. Our guide book touts it as one of the greatest road trips in the world, and after being convinced that Tajikistan is safe (it was the site of a major civil war after independence in the 1990s and only became open to foreigners for the first time since the late 1800s in the late 1990s), we have decided to go there and enter Uzbekistan from Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan.
This meant coming back to Bishkek, shitty Bishkek, to apply for a Tajik visa (we knew we'd have to spend more time here anyways, even if we were applying for a Kazakh visa instead). However, we were informed that Tajik Visas were really easy to obtain in Bishkek, so that sweetened the deal even more. Last time I wrote we were in Naryn, we spent one night there, hired a driver and went into the mountains to the ruins of a 15th Century caravanserai and a 10-12th Century Karakhanid fortress (for my archaeology fix) and stayed in a small yurt camp up at 3500 m outside the caravanserai (maybe I will get back to this whole experience later, as it was one of the highlights of the trip for me, but for the sake of the narrative, let me stick with Bishkek and the Tajik visas). After a wicked night in a yurt we returned to Naryn, from where we were hoping to hire a 4x4 to take us on a road across the country to Jalal-Abad on the western side, meaning that instead of having to backtrack to Bishkek in the north center of Kyrgyzstan, we would be doing a loop around the country and doing minimal backtracking, and most importantly, putting aside the fact that we had to return to Bishkek for a few more days. Unfortunately, after getting a local tour agency to make a few phone calls to Jalal Abad, we learned that the road between there and Naryn was snowed in, meaning that we had no option but to go north to the capital. It was a thursday, and we decided that if we burned straight back to Bishkek maybe we could get to the Tajik consulate and have our visas by the next day, or more realistically, the following Monday. And so we piled into a shared taxi to Bishkek after negotiating with the Naryn taxi mafia (they all move around in groups, wear all black suits and black leather old man golfing hats, shake each others hands constantly and pass bills between each other, and move you from car to car as you negotiate a price. If you try to bargain too hard, the other guys start arguing with the driver for some reason, and then you get passed off to another driver... in the end we ended up paying the equivalent of 12 dollars each for a 5 hour ride ---- except this means 5 hours of Kyrgyz pop music blaring on the radio, for which they should be paying YOU to listen to...).
We arrived in Bishkek too late to go to the Tajik Embassy on Thursday, so we checked into a place called Nomad's Home, where we paid the equivalent of 6 dollars a night for a bed in a yurt set up in a courtyard in the suburbs on the northeast edge of town. Here we meet a few other travellers (including a guy from Montreal) who are all waiting for various visas. Some have been at the same place for 10 days. Some longer. This was not encouraging. 'Welcome to the black hole of Bishkek visa hell', we were told.
After 2 and a half weeks of traditional Kyrgyz food (greasy mutton based stuff, mostly) Miles and I went to New York Pizza, which boasted the best pizza in Central Asia (it wasnt bad), and hunkered down on the internet to try and sort out our plans.
Friday morning we worked our way to the Tajik embassy, which is wayyyy out in the suburbs on the exact opposite side of the city. Our plan was to go with our most charismatic smiles and hope for the best. We'd been one night in Bishkek and were ready to leave again already. The place sucks. The Tajik receptionist was very lovely, 'but', she says 'you need a letter of invitation into Tajikistan'. New rule. As of less than 3 weeks ago (we talked to a guy that got a visa in two days without a letter at the end of September). Shit. Back across town to the internet cafe district (there are TONS of net cafes in Bishkek, but for whatever reason, they are all clustered within a couple of blocks). E-mail our man at Stantours, who had organized letters of invitation (LOIs) for us to get into Uzbekistan. While we're waiting for this we go to various Bishkek travel offices asking if they issue letters of invitation. None do. After checking e-mails several times throughout the day, Stantours pulls through. They can issue an official LOI approved by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in 2 weeks. Shit. BUT --- 'you can try an unofficial LOI, we can get that to you within 2-3 days'. It sounds dodgy, but we don't have 2 weeks to wait, and we have to go somewhere between Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan. We go for the unofficial LOIs, and pray that we'll get them by Monday morning to take to the Tajik embassy asap. If all goes well, we could theoretically have our Tajik Visas by wednesday, meaning we'll have been in Bishkek for just under a week.
On the meantime, we have a weekend to kill in Bishkek. We saw most of the sites in the first 2 days we were here. Luckily, at the beginning of the trip we met 2 guys in Cholpon Ara: Jez, a British NGO worker working for Mercy Corps in Bishkek; and Robert, a German economics student doing an internship in the city. Both had been living in Bishkek for several months, and both were trying to get out of the city as much as possible on weekends, hence our meeting in Cholpon Ata. We called them up and met up with them, as well as another hilarious guy named Okon, from Toronto, who has been teaching at the American University of Central Asia here for the past 3 years. We all had dinner and they took us to a PUB (we didnt think such a thing existed in Kyrgyzstan, all establishments here are diner style cafeteria lunch rooms that lack any sort of atmosphere whatsoever) But here in Bishkek, some British guy has opened a proper pub called the Metro in a dimly lit old theatre of some sort, where all the British and American expats living in the city congregate and bitch about how much Bishkek sucks. There wasn't a Kyrgyz person in the place, and it was truly bizarre to be in a place full of people speaking English. Here I learned some interesting things:
- at the universities in Bishkek, you can buy 'A's for about 500 som --- 15 USD
-at the Casino outside the Hyatt, you can buy PhDs. apparently this is popular with germans.
-I saw a guy who looked exactly like Chuck McTavish (sorry non-Salmon Arm people, SA reference). I told Jez and Okon that this guy looked exactly like my good friend's dad, and Okon said 'OK, you have to meet this man'. He introduced me, and it turned out the guy was an Albertan that owned a golf course north of Bishkek, and worked in Kumtor, the Canadian-Kyrgyz goldmine and environmental disaster that (I think?) I wrote about in my last e-mail
-Okon and I relived Joe Carter's 1993 world series game winning home run
-it is best to live near official buildings in town, because they have less frequent power outages. For example, Jez lives in an apartment right beside the Ministry of Defense building - he says he thinks he's only had one power outage in 7 months (Miles and I have spent at least 50% of our time without power at various places around the country)
-if the power goes out in the pub, or any restaurant for that matter, no big deal. just light a bunch of candles and continue as normal. makes for a real romantic feel at those aforementioned atmosphere-lacking restaurants.
The next day we met with Okon and Jez for a Chinese lunch (no power), and Okon took us to see the American University. He nearly died laughing showing us the statue of Marx and Engels, deep in some sort of discussion, facing the ex-KGB headquarters/now-American University. Furthermore, there is a MASSIVE statue of Lenin, which was moved from the main square in the city post-independence and now also faces the American University, arms outstretched towards it. We also went to the State Historical Museum, which is pretty much a 3 storey shrine to Lenin. They have every book and letter the man has ever written, and numerous statues and photos of him. There also some wicked pictures of the world's dictators all hanging out, including one of them doing a team huddle style hands-in-the-middle sort of cheer. Islam Karimov (Uzbekistan) is really old and short. Putin is even shorter but he looks like he could break a man in half. Turkmenbashi (Turkmenistan until he died in 2006) is about 7 feet tall and looks like a fuzzy bear. The guy from Iran looks like he just got off the streets from a week long bender, and has a really chilling but charismatic smile. I really wanted some of those pictures for my room. On the ceiling of the top floor was a big mural, including a section with Ronald Reagan wearing a cowboy hat and a skull mark and riding a nuclear bomb. Mother Russia was hot, of course. There were also a lot of confusing paintings of people dying and looking like zombies. Overall, of the sites to see in Bishkek, I would most highly reccomend the museum.
Saturday seems to be a major sweeping and burning day in Bishkek, except unlike the other towns where it was all leaves, in Bishkek you get burning plastic as well. Saturday is an unhealthy day to go outside.
That night, Okon wanted to go to a night club, so we decided to go out for pretty much our first time since coming to Kyrgyzstan. Before this weekend 9 PM bedtimes had been the order of the day, especially when you are in small towns with no street lights and no power. Bishkek is also supposed to be quite dangerous at night, but we felt safe with Jez, Robert, and Okon. Okon went home for a nap, and we were never able to wake him up, but the remaining 4 of us went to the Metro, and then to 'The Golden Bull', a pretty greasy club that seemed to be in some sort of warehouse room. It was full of Kyrgyz and Russians dressed to the nines (they all dress REALLY well in the city, especially for being so poor --- we figure its all just cheap Chinese stuff from the Bazaar. The club was admittedly quite fun, even though we didnt really fit in. At one point I was just kinda dancing away as I do, and some Kyrgyz girl came up and yelled in my ear 'You dance terribly!'. Some other guy told Miles and I to cut our hair. Aside from Robert getting his jacket stolen, the night was fun and without any problem. We all crashed on Robert's apartment floor.
Sunday was a write off in terms of anything worth reporting aside from the fact that it PISSED rain. It was our first rain since arriving, the weather otherwise has been clear and beautiful. The following day was clear and beautiful as well. Someone told us that Bishkek sees sun over 300 days of the year.
Monday (yesterday) came, and it was our moment of truth. Amazingly, our LOIs came from Stantours in the morning, the lovely lady at the Tajik Embassy helped us fill in our application forms, and it looks like we will be getting our Tajik Visas on wednesday morning (tomorrow). We are also getting special permits that allow us to travel the Pamir Highway (more bureaucracy, but thankfully the lady was helpful --- we have a lot to do in Tajikistan in terms of registering and paperwork, but I will save this for after we've actually experienced it) This means we'll be getting out of Bishkek ASAP, and we will be able to enter Tajikistan on Friday at the earliest. We're still sorting out exact travel plans. I have heard that there is not any electricity in the eastern half of Tajikistan, except in one city that has it every other day, so unless I have anything amazing to write about in the next 3 or 4 days, it may be a little while before the next update. Until then though, I'm sure I've provided you with enough to read. There are just so many little stories I could relate (for example last night Miles and I got out of the city into the mountains and found ourselves at a nearly abandoned Soviet Spa where we thought we would be spending the night alone outside in the cold, and then walking 40 km back to Bishkek today --- luckily neither happened), I am having to pick and choose, but I'll continue to try and fill you in on the best ones.
Hope all is well back at home, and I always look forward to hearing from you all! Talk to you soon!
Bryn
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Volume 5: Pigs is Pigs
Hello everyone, we are in a small town called Naryn right now, on the southeast of Kyrgyzstan. Looking south we can see the mountains in China.
After I wrote last, Miles and I ate some super sketchy cold noodles in a rusty bowl in the bazaar and then went on a 3 day guided trek of the mountains south of Karakol; up the Karakol Valley, across a 3860m pass, and down a valley called Altyn Arashan, 70 km in total. The wilderness here is stunning, and the mountains are unbelievable. At the top, just before the pass, there was a 3500 m alpine lake called Ala Kol. Before this trip the highest I had ever hiked was about 2600 m, so this was about 1200 m higher. It was one of the most physically challenging hikes of my life. Unfortunately Miles got altitude sickness, which made things very difficult for him, and a little bit scary for me. I definitely had my first serious bout of homesickness and loneliness for a while on the trek, especially the first night, realizing that I was in the middle of nowhere literally on the other side of the world (we are 13 hours ahead of British Columbia in Kyrgyzstan). Regardless, the mountains were spectacular and I was still able to enjoy it. I was also distracted from my melancholy when we descended from the pass for our second night at Altyn Arashan, where we were greeted by a whistle from a hairy naked Kyrgyz man standing with his hands on his hips outside of a hot spring pool. That evening we enjoyed the hotsprings as well with our naked Kyrgyz guide.
After the hike we returned to Karakol where we spent a day recuperating... both of us were having some serious trouble getting out of bed. We stayed at the guesthouse of a man named Valentin, who was a motocross trainer in the Soviet Army, and rips around on his 1994 Canadian Kodiak 4x4 ATV, given to him by the Kumtor Gold Mine, a Canadian-Kyrgyz operation south of Karakol that is responsible for spilling Uranium and Arsenic into Issyk Kol and is in the process of being shut down. 'This Canadian 4x4' Valentin proudly tells me as he struts his stuff in an old one-piece ski suit, 'is the best model of 4x4 in the whole world'. Valentin is apparently a bit of a legend in Kyrgyzstan, as everyone seems to know him, and he seems to have the hook ups for everything.
After our day of rest, we got up early the next morning to go to the Karakol Sunday Animal Market, the largest animal bazaar in Central Asia, with a few travellers we met at Valentin's place (yes, apparently there are other people travelling over here, but they seem few and far between. It is definitely nice to have someone to speak english to though). People come from all over Central Asia and China, as well as Pakistan and Afghanistan, for the Sunday Market, and it was one hell of a sight. Thousands of people were crammed in with their animals trying to sell them. Animal rights activists would probably melt into a pool of goo in Kyrgyzstan, as I cannot say that all of the animals here looked comfortable or entirely healthy. My personal favorite was the 'secret' pig section (pork being a no-no in Muslim culture), which was hidden at the back of the bazaar where people had pigs stuffed in the trunks of their Russian Ladas and Jeeps. Purchased pigs were thrown into burlap sacks or zip-up shopping bags, and you could see people walking around with purses that were squirming and squeeling; stuffed with a pig or two.
After the animal bazaar we decided to go with the travellers (2 aussies, 2 brits, one swiss) that we met at Valentins along the south shore of Issyk Kul to a town called Kaji Say, where the well-known eagle hunter, Ishenbek, lives. 'When you go see Ishenbek', Valentin told us as we were leaving, 'tell him that Valentin sent you.' So we set off on our quest. Kaji Say is a very small town, and Ishenbek's wife runs a small bed and breakfast, one of the only places to stay in town. After some persuasion to get him to skip work the following day, we organized an eagle hunt with him. Eagle hunters are extremely revered in Kyrgyzstan, and apparently they train with their bird all their life in order to become good at it. The eagles are trained not to fly away and only do as their master commands, and they just rock out on the eagle hunter's arm (properly protected by a heavy duty leather glove) until they are commanded to fly. Early the next day we saddled up in a bunch of horses with Ishenbek and his eagle, Toman, as well as a young Kyrgyz boy and another fellow who I gather owned the horses, and headed up into the high hills above a small town called Bokonbaevo. The way eagle huntings works is you go up to a ridge with the eagle, and some people ride down into the valley below through the bushes making a lot of noise to stir up rabbits, foxes, or wolves. When someone spots an animal Ishenbek removes a blindfold from the eagle and throws it out and yells commands at it to attack whatever has been spotted. After riding through several valleys we finally spotted a fox. Ishenbek hurled the eagle up into the air and started yelling like a crazy man, and the eagle swooped and swirled and dove several time at the fox, chasing it down the valley. It was one of the most breathtaking and exhilerating things I had seen, but the fox really did not stand a chance. Toman slammed the fox and pinned it down, and Ishenbek rode down the hill yelling and screaming towards the prey, and we followed. Amazingly Toman was trained to just pin the fox down and not kill it or peck at it until Ishenbek arrived, so as not to spoil the pelt. When we arrived, we saw that the eagle had the fox in a sort of choke hold, while the fox had its jaw clamed on the eagle foot, but it didnt seem to mind. Ishenbek cut the fur off one of the fox's hind legs, and gave Toman the command to eat it. It was absolutely gruesome yet fascinating to watch the eagle eat the fox while it was still alive and squirming. Another sight for animal rights activists. The eagle made a bloody mess as it pecked its way into the fox's lower innards (after what seemed like forever) and the fox eventually died. Immediately after that we all went and ate lunch.
We parted ways with the others, and today we left Ishenbek's and completed our circumnavigation of Issyk Kul, and headed south to Naryn. We have organized a trip to the ruins of a caravanserai called Tash Rabat 120 km south of here and at 3500m, as well as a night in a yurt up in the mountains near the caravanserai. After that we will either travel west through the mountains if the road allows (its looking unlikely, it was snowed in a few days ago, though apparently open today) or north back to Bishkek where we will sort out some Visas for our next countries of destination. I will write again when time permits.
A few more quick observations of Kyrgyzstan, for those interested:
-on saturdays, the school childred in Karakol banded together for a mass sweeping event, followed by a mass burning of the swept leaves, making it very difficult to breathe or see in town. Sundays seem to be a day of rest from sweeping.
-there must be a black market for manhole covers, as they all seem to be missing
-there are probably almost as many horse/donkey drawn carriages on the road along southern Issyk Kul as there are cars.
-I have no idea how anyone keeps track of livestock here, they just run around everywhere --- and there is a lot of livestock.
-we fit 8 people into 1 Lada on our way to the Sunday Animal Market. the bottom was grinding against the dirt road most of the way
-people here would do well to spend less money on walls and more money on roads. the roads are terrible, and EVERY building or home in towns has big concrete walls around it
-there power is out about 70 % of the time here
-in one restaurant in Karakol, this table full of old ladies gave us a few of their salads after they saw we were eyeing them curiously. Noticing that these old ladies were pounding Vodka, we decided to return the favour by buying them a bottle and giving them a toast. After dinner we ended up dancing to Kyrgyz pop in the restaurant with 50 + year old ladies. Miles was a major hit.
-Kyrgyz pop is worse than Russian pop is worse than American pop. The Kyrgyz love all of it, and listen to nothing else. Our 3 hour taxi ride to Naryn today was particularly painful.
-everyone has cellphones here, and they walk down the street cranking Kyrgyz or Russian or American pop on their pnone
-I wont be able to put up pictures until MAYBE bishkek, as the internet is too slow and you get charged per megabyte
Thats all for now. I hope everyone in Canada had a happy thanksgiving and I look forward to hearing from home!
Love, Bryn
After I wrote last, Miles and I ate some super sketchy cold noodles in a rusty bowl in the bazaar and then went on a 3 day guided trek of the mountains south of Karakol; up the Karakol Valley, across a 3860m pass, and down a valley called Altyn Arashan, 70 km in total. The wilderness here is stunning, and the mountains are unbelievable. At the top, just before the pass, there was a 3500 m alpine lake called Ala Kol. Before this trip the highest I had ever hiked was about 2600 m, so this was about 1200 m higher. It was one of the most physically challenging hikes of my life. Unfortunately Miles got altitude sickness, which made things very difficult for him, and a little bit scary for me. I definitely had my first serious bout of homesickness and loneliness for a while on the trek, especially the first night, realizing that I was in the middle of nowhere literally on the other side of the world (we are 13 hours ahead of British Columbia in Kyrgyzstan). Regardless, the mountains were spectacular and I was still able to enjoy it. I was also distracted from my melancholy when we descended from the pass for our second night at Altyn Arashan, where we were greeted by a whistle from a hairy naked Kyrgyz man standing with his hands on his hips outside of a hot spring pool. That evening we enjoyed the hotsprings as well with our naked Kyrgyz guide.
After the hike we returned to Karakol where we spent a day recuperating... both of us were having some serious trouble getting out of bed. We stayed at the guesthouse of a man named Valentin, who was a motocross trainer in the Soviet Army, and rips around on his 1994 Canadian Kodiak 4x4 ATV, given to him by the Kumtor Gold Mine, a Canadian-Kyrgyz operation south of Karakol that is responsible for spilling Uranium and Arsenic into Issyk Kol and is in the process of being shut down. 'This Canadian 4x4' Valentin proudly tells me as he struts his stuff in an old one-piece ski suit, 'is the best model of 4x4 in the whole world'. Valentin is apparently a bit of a legend in Kyrgyzstan, as everyone seems to know him, and he seems to have the hook ups for everything.
After our day of rest, we got up early the next morning to go to the Karakol Sunday Animal Market, the largest animal bazaar in Central Asia, with a few travellers we met at Valentin's place (yes, apparently there are other people travelling over here, but they seem few and far between. It is definitely nice to have someone to speak english to though). People come from all over Central Asia and China, as well as Pakistan and Afghanistan, for the Sunday Market, and it was one hell of a sight. Thousands of people were crammed in with their animals trying to sell them. Animal rights activists would probably melt into a pool of goo in Kyrgyzstan, as I cannot say that all of the animals here looked comfortable or entirely healthy. My personal favorite was the 'secret' pig section (pork being a no-no in Muslim culture), which was hidden at the back of the bazaar where people had pigs stuffed in the trunks of their Russian Ladas and Jeeps. Purchased pigs were thrown into burlap sacks or zip-up shopping bags, and you could see people walking around with purses that were squirming and squeeling; stuffed with a pig or two.
After the animal bazaar we decided to go with the travellers (2 aussies, 2 brits, one swiss) that we met at Valentins along the south shore of Issyk Kul to a town called Kaji Say, where the well-known eagle hunter, Ishenbek, lives. 'When you go see Ishenbek', Valentin told us as we were leaving, 'tell him that Valentin sent you.' So we set off on our quest. Kaji Say is a very small town, and Ishenbek's wife runs a small bed and breakfast, one of the only places to stay in town. After some persuasion to get him to skip work the following day, we organized an eagle hunt with him. Eagle hunters are extremely revered in Kyrgyzstan, and apparently they train with their bird all their life in order to become good at it. The eagles are trained not to fly away and only do as their master commands, and they just rock out on the eagle hunter's arm (properly protected by a heavy duty leather glove) until they are commanded to fly. Early the next day we saddled up in a bunch of horses with Ishenbek and his eagle, Toman, as well as a young Kyrgyz boy and another fellow who I gather owned the horses, and headed up into the high hills above a small town called Bokonbaevo. The way eagle huntings works is you go up to a ridge with the eagle, and some people ride down into the valley below through the bushes making a lot of noise to stir up rabbits, foxes, or wolves. When someone spots an animal Ishenbek removes a blindfold from the eagle and throws it out and yells commands at it to attack whatever has been spotted. After riding through several valleys we finally spotted a fox. Ishenbek hurled the eagle up into the air and started yelling like a crazy man, and the eagle swooped and swirled and dove several time at the fox, chasing it down the valley. It was one of the most breathtaking and exhilerating things I had seen, but the fox really did not stand a chance. Toman slammed the fox and pinned it down, and Ishenbek rode down the hill yelling and screaming towards the prey, and we followed. Amazingly Toman was trained to just pin the fox down and not kill it or peck at it until Ishenbek arrived, so as not to spoil the pelt. When we arrived, we saw that the eagle had the fox in a sort of choke hold, while the fox had its jaw clamed on the eagle foot, but it didnt seem to mind. Ishenbek cut the fur off one of the fox's hind legs, and gave Toman the command to eat it. It was absolutely gruesome yet fascinating to watch the eagle eat the fox while it was still alive and squirming. Another sight for animal rights activists. The eagle made a bloody mess as it pecked its way into the fox's lower innards (after what seemed like forever) and the fox eventually died. Immediately after that we all went and ate lunch.
We parted ways with the others, and today we left Ishenbek's and completed our circumnavigation of Issyk Kul, and headed south to Naryn. We have organized a trip to the ruins of a caravanserai called Tash Rabat 120 km south of here and at 3500m, as well as a night in a yurt up in the mountains near the caravanserai. After that we will either travel west through the mountains if the road allows (its looking unlikely, it was snowed in a few days ago, though apparently open today) or north back to Bishkek where we will sort out some Visas for our next countries of destination. I will write again when time permits.
A few more quick observations of Kyrgyzstan, for those interested:
-on saturdays, the school childred in Karakol banded together for a mass sweeping event, followed by a mass burning of the swept leaves, making it very difficult to breathe or see in town. Sundays seem to be a day of rest from sweeping.
-there must be a black market for manhole covers, as they all seem to be missing
-there are probably almost as many horse/donkey drawn carriages on the road along southern Issyk Kul as there are cars.
-I have no idea how anyone keeps track of livestock here, they just run around everywhere --- and there is a lot of livestock.
-we fit 8 people into 1 Lada on our way to the Sunday Animal Market. the bottom was grinding against the dirt road most of the way
-people here would do well to spend less money on walls and more money on roads. the roads are terrible, and EVERY building or home in towns has big concrete walls around it
-there power is out about 70 % of the time here
-in one restaurant in Karakol, this table full of old ladies gave us a few of their salads after they saw we were eyeing them curiously. Noticing that these old ladies were pounding Vodka, we decided to return the favour by buying them a bottle and giving them a toast. After dinner we ended up dancing to Kyrgyz pop in the restaurant with 50 + year old ladies. Miles was a major hit.
-Kyrgyz pop is worse than Russian pop is worse than American pop. The Kyrgyz love all of it, and listen to nothing else. Our 3 hour taxi ride to Naryn today was particularly painful.
-everyone has cellphones here, and they walk down the street cranking Kyrgyz or Russian or American pop on their pnone
-I wont be able to put up pictures until MAYBE bishkek, as the internet is too slow and you get charged per megabyte
Thats all for now. I hope everyone in Canada had a happy thanksgiving and I look forward to hearing from home!
Love, Bryn
Monday, October 6, 2008
Volume 4: Sweepers and Bottle Kids
We are now in Kyrgyzstan. I can't actually think of the right adjectives to briefly describe this country, and even though we've only been here for 5 days, I could write a short book on this place. Luckily, limited time on a slow internet connection will spare you that, but I will try to give you a bit of a sense of the place from a few of the experiences so far.
Our arrival was in Bishkek, which is the country's capital. Probably the most shocking thing at first was the contrast between this city and Istanbul. Bishkek is 1/15th the size of Istanbul. Bishkek's streets are about 5 times as wide as Istanbul's and in a strict north-south grid pattern. Bishkek has little traffic, and very few people walking around. You can walk across the city in about 30 minutes. Most importantly, Bishkek is downright eerie.
We arrived very early in the morning and waited in the airport until it got light. We checked into a guesthouse and then walked around town.... the only people on the streets were people sweeping. People sweep everywhere, make little piles of leaves, and then move on. Since it is the beginning of autumn this is a never ending process. The city is Soviet through and through - perfect grid streets and plain, depressing, rectangular architecture. Lots of wide streets, big squares, and imposing monuments. Everything is in Cyrillic, and you can't see into any of the buildings or shops, so you really have no idea what anything is. Lenin statues point to different things around town. Everything is run down and dirty. Manholes are half opened and the streetlights don't work, so as soon as it gets dark, you definitely have to watch out (both miles and I have tripped several time over random piping and pieces of concrete -- in the daylight) We to a large amusement park that looked like it hadnt been in operation since 1991, grass and vines growing over mary-go-rounds and creepy clown statues. No one else was in the park. It was really creepy. We had been in Bishkek only about 8 hours and we already decided that we needed to get out fast.
It did get a bit better though. The city is very green; there are trees everywhere. We found some bazaars that are apparently where all the people go. These places made me quite uncomfortable at first, but they were certainly an experience. They put the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul to shame (sorry Turan). Dordoi Bazaar is said to be the biggest bazaar in Central Asia, and it is pretty much a city in itself outside of town, made of double-stacked rusty freight shipping containers. As we got more comfortable with the situation, walking around wasn't too bad.
The food is sketchy. That first morning we saw a street vendor selling some samosa type things that looked quite delicious. Being gung ho we walked up and grabbed too. The inside was filled with some strange mystery meat and a block of half melted cheese. We both had diarrhea our second day in Bishkek, and we blame it on these shady street samosas. In the bazzar we saw the most disgusting looking sausages you can imagine, raw chickens sitting in the sun crawling with flies, various animal heads, and coke and fanta bottles refilled with some mysterious puke-colored liquid. We immediately decided that we were going to have to be super careful about what we ate, and potentially become vegetarians. Crackers and properly packaged yogurt looked to be my diet for the next month. And the beer is delicious.
Our food worries were somewhat alleviated with our taxi ride out of Bishkek:
Taxis here are wicked, once you get used to them. We stick out like you wouldnt believe, and any time we walk past someone standing near a car, they reach in and grap there yellow plastic taxi sign that they bought at the bazaar and attach it to their roof, pretending like you didnt see them add it. It doesnt seem to matter though, as everyone will get you where you want to go, eventually. Our taxi home from Dordoi Bazaar had to be started by sticking a wire with a pin attached into the air conditioning vent to create a spark, and the horn worked similarly. When we wanted to leave Bishkek we got swarmed at the bus station by people wanting to give us a ride. We were going to Cholpon Ata, a small village 4 hours east of Bishkek on Lake Issyk Kul, the 2nd biggest alpine lake in he world (after Titicaca). We picked a driver who would take us there for the equivalent of 10 dollars. We crammed into his old Soviet car that looked like it would light on fire at any time with him and his (supposed) parents, two very traditional elderly Kyrgyz people. Only the driver knew a few words of English. Pulling out of the parking lot he reversed into a piece of soviet mystery metal jutting out of the side walk, putting a big hole in the bumper. 10 minutes out of town we were pulled over by the police (I don't really know why, I think he wasnt wearing his seatbelt). He paid them off and we continued, but everyone in the car, who had before been very amicable, seemed a bit edgy and tense. About 10 minutes later, we pulled off the highway and drove into some residential area where we stopped and they all went into a gated house. "Boys, 5 minutes please". the driver says. They return with some bags and stuff them in the trunk. Back on the road, then this happens again, the mother taking some bread into a house and returning with more bags. "Boys, 5 minutes please." The third time we pull off to a house with several yurts erected in the yard, and a whole bunch of people milling about. By this point I'm thinking we're dealing with Kyrgyz smugglers. "Boys, 5 minutes please" he says, and all three go into a yurt, leaving Miles and I in the car, where, after much more than 5 minutes, we begin to read. Another person comes out of the yurt and to the car and invites us to come in and have tea. We oblige, and enter the yurt to the sight of the most amazing spread of food I have ever seen. I don't know what any of it was... delicious noodles, salads, breads, pastries, nuts, all extravagantly laid out. "Boys, this is my family." Tays our driver from across the yurt. Turns out we had just been invited into a Kyrgyz family reunion. After a while eating amazing food, our driver and his family left. "Boys, 5 minutes please" he said, as we were still eating. Not wanting to get left behind we finished up quickly and tried to leave, but the ladies serving tea didnt seem to pleased. As we got to the door of the yurt our driver came back and said "Boys, sit down", and they brought Miles and I some special dish of plov with mutton, which was actually very tasty, and I imagine was made especially for us. We finally finished that off and left, 2 hours behind schedule for Cholpon Ata (we have quickly realized that you cant have a schedule in this country), but realizing that we had just experienced something very very special.
No one really speaks English in Bishkek, but outside of Bishkek, there is even less. Ordering at restaurants has become a matter of closing our eyes and pointing at a random dish in Cyrillic, a strategy which has miraculously worked out really well for us.
Turns out Cholpon Ata was very eeire as well... its a Russian and Kazakh holiday resort, but it was completely empty. Its really wierd when there are streets of over-staffed restaurants with no one sitting in them, ever.
This is getting too long, so I will be brief with a few more points:
-everyone here is POOR. it is a healthy eye opener.
-we saw some really cool 3500 year old petroglyphs behind Cholpon Ata
-we rode a mini bus from Cholpon Ata to a town called Karakol today, where we squished an unbelievable number of people into one vehicle, and some old Kyrgyz man tried to tell us how far away everything is, in Kyrgyz.
-there are bottle kids here, for those who know the Trailer Park Boys. They wander the back streets and throw bottles. As most of their targets so far have been inanimate, I have had quite a chuckle out of this.
-the mountains here are AMAZING. the natural beauty of this country is outrageous.
-Miles and I are going on a 3 day trek across a 3800 m pass with alpine lakes and hot springs on wednesday.
Hope this wasn't too boring, if you have any specific questions or anything please write, I'd love to hear from you and fill you in if I can. Until next time,
Bryn
Our arrival was in Bishkek, which is the country's capital. Probably the most shocking thing at first was the contrast between this city and Istanbul. Bishkek is 1/15th the size of Istanbul. Bishkek's streets are about 5 times as wide as Istanbul's and in a strict north-south grid pattern. Bishkek has little traffic, and very few people walking around. You can walk across the city in about 30 minutes. Most importantly, Bishkek is downright eerie.
We arrived very early in the morning and waited in the airport until it got light. We checked into a guesthouse and then walked around town.... the only people on the streets were people sweeping. People sweep everywhere, make little piles of leaves, and then move on. Since it is the beginning of autumn this is a never ending process. The city is Soviet through and through - perfect grid streets and plain, depressing, rectangular architecture. Lots of wide streets, big squares, and imposing monuments. Everything is in Cyrillic, and you can't see into any of the buildings or shops, so you really have no idea what anything is. Lenin statues point to different things around town. Everything is run down and dirty. Manholes are half opened and the streetlights don't work, so as soon as it gets dark, you definitely have to watch out (both miles and I have tripped several time over random piping and pieces of concrete -- in the daylight) We to a large amusement park that looked like it hadnt been in operation since 1991, grass and vines growing over mary-go-rounds and creepy clown statues. No one else was in the park. It was really creepy. We had been in Bishkek only about 8 hours and we already decided that we needed to get out fast.
It did get a bit better though. The city is very green; there are trees everywhere. We found some bazaars that are apparently where all the people go. These places made me quite uncomfortable at first, but they were certainly an experience. They put the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul to shame (sorry Turan). Dordoi Bazaar is said to be the biggest bazaar in Central Asia, and it is pretty much a city in itself outside of town, made of double-stacked rusty freight shipping containers. As we got more comfortable with the situation, walking around wasn't too bad.
The food is sketchy. That first morning we saw a street vendor selling some samosa type things that looked quite delicious. Being gung ho we walked up and grabbed too. The inside was filled with some strange mystery meat and a block of half melted cheese. We both had diarrhea our second day in Bishkek, and we blame it on these shady street samosas. In the bazzar we saw the most disgusting looking sausages you can imagine, raw chickens sitting in the sun crawling with flies, various animal heads, and coke and fanta bottles refilled with some mysterious puke-colored liquid. We immediately decided that we were going to have to be super careful about what we ate, and potentially become vegetarians. Crackers and properly packaged yogurt looked to be my diet for the next month. And the beer is delicious.
Our food worries were somewhat alleviated with our taxi ride out of Bishkek:
Taxis here are wicked, once you get used to them. We stick out like you wouldnt believe, and any time we walk past someone standing near a car, they reach in and grap there yellow plastic taxi sign that they bought at the bazaar and attach it to their roof, pretending like you didnt see them add it. It doesnt seem to matter though, as everyone will get you where you want to go, eventually. Our taxi home from Dordoi Bazaar had to be started by sticking a wire with a pin attached into the air conditioning vent to create a spark, and the horn worked similarly. When we wanted to leave Bishkek we got swarmed at the bus station by people wanting to give us a ride. We were going to Cholpon Ata, a small village 4 hours east of Bishkek on Lake Issyk Kul, the 2nd biggest alpine lake in he world (after Titicaca). We picked a driver who would take us there for the equivalent of 10 dollars. We crammed into his old Soviet car that looked like it would light on fire at any time with him and his (supposed) parents, two very traditional elderly Kyrgyz people. Only the driver knew a few words of English. Pulling out of the parking lot he reversed into a piece of soviet mystery metal jutting out of the side walk, putting a big hole in the bumper. 10 minutes out of town we were pulled over by the police (I don't really know why, I think he wasnt wearing his seatbelt). He paid them off and we continued, but everyone in the car, who had before been very amicable, seemed a bit edgy and tense. About 10 minutes later, we pulled off the highway and drove into some residential area where we stopped and they all went into a gated house. "Boys, 5 minutes please". the driver says. They return with some bags and stuff them in the trunk. Back on the road, then this happens again, the mother taking some bread into a house and returning with more bags. "Boys, 5 minutes please." The third time we pull off to a house with several yurts erected in the yard, and a whole bunch of people milling about. By this point I'm thinking we're dealing with Kyrgyz smugglers. "Boys, 5 minutes please" he says, and all three go into a yurt, leaving Miles and I in the car, where, after much more than 5 minutes, we begin to read. Another person comes out of the yurt and to the car and invites us to come in and have tea. We oblige, and enter the yurt to the sight of the most amazing spread of food I have ever seen. I don't know what any of it was... delicious noodles, salads, breads, pastries, nuts, all extravagantly laid out. "Boys, this is my family." Tays our driver from across the yurt. Turns out we had just been invited into a Kyrgyz family reunion. After a while eating amazing food, our driver and his family left. "Boys, 5 minutes please" he said, as we were still eating. Not wanting to get left behind we finished up quickly and tried to leave, but the ladies serving tea didnt seem to pleased. As we got to the door of the yurt our driver came back and said "Boys, sit down", and they brought Miles and I some special dish of plov with mutton, which was actually very tasty, and I imagine was made especially for us. We finally finished that off and left, 2 hours behind schedule for Cholpon Ata (we have quickly realized that you cant have a schedule in this country), but realizing that we had just experienced something very very special.
No one really speaks English in Bishkek, but outside of Bishkek, there is even less. Ordering at restaurants has become a matter of closing our eyes and pointing at a random dish in Cyrillic, a strategy which has miraculously worked out really well for us.
Turns out Cholpon Ata was very eeire as well... its a Russian and Kazakh holiday resort, but it was completely empty. Its really wierd when there are streets of over-staffed restaurants with no one sitting in them, ever.
This is getting too long, so I will be brief with a few more points:
-everyone here is POOR. it is a healthy eye opener.
-we saw some really cool 3500 year old petroglyphs behind Cholpon Ata
-we rode a mini bus from Cholpon Ata to a town called Karakol today, where we squished an unbelievable number of people into one vehicle, and some old Kyrgyz man tried to tell us how far away everything is, in Kyrgyz.
-there are bottle kids here, for those who know the Trailer Park Boys. They wander the back streets and throw bottles. As most of their targets so far have been inanimate, I have had quite a chuckle out of this.
-the mountains here are AMAZING. the natural beauty of this country is outrageous.
-Miles and I are going on a 3 day trek across a 3800 m pass with alpine lakes and hot springs on wednesday.
Hope this wasn't too boring, if you have any specific questions or anything please write, I'd love to hear from you and fill you in if I can. Until next time,
Bryn
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Snapshots of Istanbul
A raıny street near the Grand Bazaar.
There was a sıgn at the stall next to thıs that promısed 6 tımes ın one nıght. When I asked the owner of thıs stall about ıt he proudly saıd 'no no no that place only 6 tımes. Here, plus fıve tımes' That doesn't make sense, I told hım, 6 ıs bıgger than 5. 'no no no, only 6 tımes there, here, plus 5' So wıth thıs stuff I can make love 11 tımes? I asked. 'Yes, plus 5.'Wıcked.
Turan and I at a Narghıle joınt ın Taksım.
Doıng ıt Turk style at the Meyhane, rıght before beıng surrounded by a bunch of crazy turkısh people I dıdnt know who seemed so happy to see me...
The northern brıdge across the Bosphorous.
Volume 3: Ishmısh, Ekmek, and Seker Baba
Merhaba all,
It ıs the last day ın Istanbul and we are busy preparıng for our 8 30 PM flıght to Bıshkek, Kyrgyzstan. We wıll arrıve at 4 30 AM Kyryz tıme, and the aırport ıs 30 km out of the cıty, so ıt ıs sure to be an exhaustıng adventure tomorrow mornıng.
The last few days ın Istanbul have been great, though I was a bıt sıck for a day or two, but feelıng better now. We have really just been eatıng as much good food as we can before we get to the land of horse braıns and sheep eyes. Mıles' love for the Doner has grown to a bıt of a fetısh, though I succumbed to ıts greasy ıll effects on the stomach the other day, so I am off the doner traın for a whıle. Mıles contınues to push strong.
Ramadan has offıcıally ended, so now there ıs a week long holıday called sugar fest, ın whıch everyone seems to eat as much candy as possıble and runs around on a sugar hıgh. The atmosphere ıs very festıve. I trıed to get ınto the spırıt by buyıng a bunch of Turkısh Delıght (way to much) and offerıng ıt to kıds on the street, declarıng that I was Seker Baba (Sugar Daddy) but apparently that was a bıt creepy, and no one here seems to lıke Turkısh delıght anyways.
I had an ınterestıng experıence last nıght. We went to a Mayhane, whıch ıs a tradıtıonal Turkısh pub where you eat mezes (appetızers) and drınk Rakı (a strong turkısh alcohol). Lıve musıcıans come around to all the tables and play tradıtıonal musıc on tradıtıonal ınstruments, and by the end of the nıght everyone ıs clappıng and dancıng and sıngıng. I do enjoy a good lıttle boogıe, so I ended up doıng my best tradıtıonal turkısh dance wıth everyone, and a turkısh gırl from another table started dancıng wıth me. Thıs seemed to get a bunch of other turkısh men from another table quıte excıtıng and they all came and cırcled around us and patted me and gave me hıgh fıves and yelled ın turkısh... then the gırl bent over backwards lımbo style wıth her head towards me. As everyone knows thıs means you are supposed to lıck her forehead and put money on ıt, however I must have forgotten thıs rule. Not only that but you all know how cheap I am.... everyone was stıll yellıng at me, whıch was quıte confusıng. After the gırl left, the turksıh dudes then all seemed to want to grınd wıth me and contınued yellıng and gıvıng me hıgh fıves. I looked to my frıends ın confusıon, but they were all just laughıng. I soon broke away and got back to the table, and I stıll dont really know what was goıng on. Apparently they thought I was Russıan, whatever sıgnıfıcance that has...
Bye for now, talk to you when we get to Kyrgyzstan,
Bryn
It ıs the last day ın Istanbul and we are busy preparıng for our 8 30 PM flıght to Bıshkek, Kyrgyzstan. We wıll arrıve at 4 30 AM Kyryz tıme, and the aırport ıs 30 km out of the cıty, so ıt ıs sure to be an exhaustıng adventure tomorrow mornıng.
The last few days ın Istanbul have been great, though I was a bıt sıck for a day or two, but feelıng better now. We have really just been eatıng as much good food as we can before we get to the land of horse braıns and sheep eyes. Mıles' love for the Doner has grown to a bıt of a fetısh, though I succumbed to ıts greasy ıll effects on the stomach the other day, so I am off the doner traın for a whıle. Mıles contınues to push strong.
Ramadan has offıcıally ended, so now there ıs a week long holıday called sugar fest, ın whıch everyone seems to eat as much candy as possıble and runs around on a sugar hıgh. The atmosphere ıs very festıve. I trıed to get ınto the spırıt by buyıng a bunch of Turkısh Delıght (way to much) and offerıng ıt to kıds on the street, declarıng that I was Seker Baba (Sugar Daddy) but apparently that was a bıt creepy, and no one here seems to lıke Turkısh delıght anyways.
I had an ınterestıng experıence last nıght. We went to a Mayhane, whıch ıs a tradıtıonal Turkısh pub where you eat mezes (appetızers) and drınk Rakı (a strong turkısh alcohol). Lıve musıcıans come around to all the tables and play tradıtıonal musıc on tradıtıonal ınstruments, and by the end of the nıght everyone ıs clappıng and dancıng and sıngıng. I do enjoy a good lıttle boogıe, so I ended up doıng my best tradıtıonal turkısh dance wıth everyone, and a turkısh gırl from another table started dancıng wıth me. Thıs seemed to get a bunch of other turkısh men from another table quıte excıtıng and they all came and cırcled around us and patted me and gave me hıgh fıves and yelled ın turkısh... then the gırl bent over backwards lımbo style wıth her head towards me. As everyone knows thıs means you are supposed to lıck her forehead and put money on ıt, however I must have forgotten thıs rule. Not only that but you all know how cheap I am.... everyone was stıll yellıng at me, whıch was quıte confusıng. After the gırl left, the turksıh dudes then all seemed to want to grınd wıth me and contınued yellıng and gıvıng me hıgh fıves. I looked to my frıends ın confusıon, but they were all just laughıng. I soon broke away and got back to the table, and I stıll dont really know what was goıng on. Apparently they thought I was Russıan, whatever sıgnıfıcance that has...
Bye for now, talk to you when we get to Kyrgyzstan,
Bryn
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