When Dorothy and Toto landed and Glinda was there with her magic wand, she opened up a whole new world to the Kansas kid. So it seemed to us dropping into Kyrgyzstan. It’s a wonderful place so off the tourist radar that we often had to explain the what and where when asked where we were going on this trip. “China, Uzbekistan, and Kyrgyzstgan.” “Krig – what?” was the response. But it’s an untapped gem full of spectacular scenery and warm, friendly people – the best that Central Asia has to offer can be found here.
After arriving in Naryn so late, we had an early departure since another long day lay ahead. Saci, Lise and I went out for an early walk since our body clock had not changed, even though our digitals had. Out on the street about 7:30 we passed school kids on their way to class. Boys dressed in suit and tie as if they were going to Sunday mass, and little girls with their black dresses, white knee socks and little chiffon-like bows tying up their hair in the back. They look delightful and their sweet smiles saying: “Good morning,” followed by a giggle couldn’t help but make our morning start off well. The boys were far more serious, but pleasant all the same.
Morning breakfast brought rolls with jam, cereal and yogurt, cheese (Cheese? What’s that? We never saw ANY in China) and cold cuts, real coffee or tea, chocolate éclairs and cakes. We thought we’d all died and gone to some epicurean staging area. We had to hit the road at 9:00 and we dragged our tired bods onto the bus for the next stage.
The road went from awful to bad to tolerable, a far cry from the misery of the day before. The scenery didn’t disappoint even as the road improved. Kyrgyzstan is 90% mountains and we continually went up and over one pass, only to descend on the other side and seeing the road stretch out before us, we knew that there was more of the same ahead. They call it the Switzerland of central Asia, but I’d never heard of that before.
The most predominant eye candy on the ride was the ever-present Kyrgiz herder sitting astride his horse tending his flocks. The people are called a “vertical nomads,” since the land is so up and down. They spend the winter in the lowlands and head up into the green pastures of the mountains as the spring brings the thaw and fresh grazing.
Flocks of sheep, cashmere goats, yaks, and small herds of horses continued to dot the landscape. Ranging from a few head mostly for personal consumption to large flocks, the sheep and goats roam freely across the range under the ever-watchful eye of the herder, looking so solitary on his horse.
Spring comes late to the high Tian Shan mountains. Ice and snow speckled the land and it actually snowed on us when we stopped for a photo op. The grass worked hard at poking through the winter snow and the herds were on a continuous move. Heads down and moving together as if in a dance, they worked their way across the landscape.
Along the way a lone trailer left over from the “Soviet times,” as they are called, showed smoke coming from the chimney indicating that although it looked like it should have been abandoned long ago, it was, in fact, still home to somebody. We stopped at one where a herder was fixing a barrel used for some purpose. Hospitality is such an integral part of the Nomadic peoples, whether in Mongolia or where ever they tend their herds, and so it was here in Kyrgyzstan. The Kyrgiz equivalent to Mongolian Airang was brought forth and offered to these travelers who stopped. It’s actually fermented mare’s milk, and tastes like a cross between butter milk gone bad (is that possible?) and battery acid with a kick that brings a shudder to even the most experienced vodka drinker.
A red-faced woman appeared at the small window of the trailer holding a round-faced baby of about six months in age. She wouldn’t come outside but posed for photos through the window which she opened. Shutters snapped, oos and ahs filled the air, and we all got back on the bus wondering what life must be like for this family all alone on the cold of the mountains where all their earthly goods are stacked up around and under the trailer. Like the Harry Chapin song says: “You’ll never have too many neighbors. There’s you and me and God.”
The scenery was simply spectacular as the mountains kept on coming until we dropped into a wide valley and an actual town appeared where we stopped for lunch. Unlike our “Uighur family” lunch, this was an authentic Kyrgiz family who is part of a system developing in Kyrgyzstan called “Community Based Tourism.” It is a female based organization started by some Swiss company to help families which have really been hit heavily by the Soviet pull-out. We were greeted by three women in their 50’s in local dress, which we saw lots of and is not just a gimmick, who sang a song of greeting while a boy of 10 or so played a three-string instrument which looked like a skinny guitar. As they sang, they offered they offered a fried bread which was dipped in homemade butter.
This is a family operation with five generations members all pitching in – well the three month old didn’t do much except bring out the mommy instinct in all the women on the trip. A quiet girl of 14 or so bustled back and forth serving food, darting back and forth between the eating area and the preparation area which was outdoors.
A demonstration of felt making was given, and it was anything but the high-tech mass produced “Handicrafts” we had seen previously. They beat raw wool with metal rods to get the stickers out then pulled pieces off the fleece to begin their design. Other colors were added to the design and then the piece which was about 3 feet by 3 feet was rolled up in a wicker floor mat. Hot water was poured over the round roll, canvas covered the outside, the whole thing was tied up, and dragged across the courtyard for about 20 minutes with members of our group stomping on it continuously. I thought the process looked like how I do my laundry when traveling, but in the end a felted floor mat was produced. It was really a very natural, perfectly honest reflection of how these women do their fiber thing. Several of us bought one of the finished products at $7 a pop.
Lunch was delicious, A diced beet salad, chicken noodle soup, plov, which was rice with beef pieces and bread with jams and honey. We all rejoiced in what we considered real food. Saci says he’s never again eating from a round table that spins. It was a delicious introduction to Kyrgiz food and such a change from our last three weeks that Kyrgyzstan quickly etched its way into our hearts.
If the food wasn’t sufficient, the genuine warmth of the people certainly would have done it on its own. They were the first Soviet state in Central Asia to gain independence and although the Soviet pull-out left the country in a real economic hole from which it’s just now, 15 years later, pulling itself out. It’s a poor country mostly of nomadic herders who live off the land and move about with the maturing of the grazing land. The people seem so simply honest without affectation that every stop seemed to reinforce the feeling that we weren’t in Kansas any more.
When we would drop down out of the mountains and into a valley we’d find villages where the houses ranged from very shaky to decent. But the continuing feature was the ever-present garden. Each home had one, ranging in size from a few hundred square feet to maybe an acre. Larger plots in open fields were obviously commercial enterprises but all seemed to be farmed by hand. Not once did we see any tractor or motorized farm device.
Cows grazed beside the road seemingly undaunted by the buses and trucks whizzing by ever so close. They seemed very road savvy. A few goats and sheep might be fenced in beside the gardens and everybody seemed to have some critters. The valleys were very lush and green, providing fodder for animals and the soil seemed rich and productive.
We never saw any houses that would qualify as representing a family that is well off. Everybody seems to be struggling, but doing so with a pleasantness about them that belies their financial woes. How common, we’ve found, that the poorest people seem to always find warmth and generosity and friendliness. While the more wealthy…………………well, you know where I’m going with this one.
We looked across the river and “Saw” Kazakstan on our roll into Biskek. A stop at a beautiful lake over 60 miles long brought home the realization of the struggle of a country still working its way from under the Soviet yoke. There is a small “Playground” area with swings and little ferris wheel type play equipment that is in such badly-need repair it makes you realize there’s just no money for this sort of thing. There are no big condos lining the shore, no fancy houses where the fat cats come to play for the weekend. Just a shore line with the waves lapping upon the rocks and the emptiness of the scene. The Kyrgiz never developed a written language. Nomadic herders had no need of such a thing, so the Russian Cyrillic alphabet is now the de facto written word. In part because of the connection on the silk road and partly because of the Russian presence, there are distinct ethnic looks about the people. Biskek, in fact, is almost 50% Russian and only 1/3 Kyrgiz. In the mountain areas on the way in from Kashgar the look was definitely Central Asian, but in Biskek itself it was not unusual to see blond individuals pass with definite Caucasian features. I personally think the Central Asians are beautiful people. The men have strong faces and features. Centuries of weathering the cold and working hard with the herds can do that to a people. The women seem almost like a cross between Asian and European. There was an old computer program which came out in the 80’s called Morph where you could take two photos and blend them together and it would be a completely different look incorporating elements of both. Interestingly enough, the people don’t have that weathered complexion that we saw in Mongolia and Tibet, where the skin almost has a cracked look about it. A lot of time in the sun and wind can do that to a face. Maybe the centuries of mixing European blood to the Asian plays into that, I’m not sure.
We rolled into Bisket at 9:30 p.m. Another long day. We all felt rushed with two days of hard travel, but it was not without its delights. It wasn’t JUST hard travel. We are delighted to be in a new and exciting stage of the trip. Great food, wonderful people, fabulous scenery soft beds and soft pillows. Did I mention the food is good? We’re all saying to ourselves, “Why don’t we have more time here?”
