This week we had the chance to see a
region of Kyrgyzstan we have never been to, where we stayed in a
village, visited Son Kul lake, and even spent one night in a yurt,
the traditional Kyrgyz home.
We have long had our hearts set on
seeing the Narin region, as it is associated with the heart of
Kyrgyzstan, the purest Kyrgyz language, the coldest and highest
mountains, the best grazing pastures (jailoo in Kyrgyz), and the
tastiest meat. Knowing that August was our best chance to make this
trip, we attempted to plan some of it through the internet. Our internet
searches turned up very, very little in the way of booking hotels or home-stays. In
great contrast to Italy, where we reserved hotels and apartments
weeks in advance, we ran into many road blocks in planning anything
for Narin. We sought out a travel agency, but were disgusted at the
price they quoted us ($1600 for two nights), and decided to buy bus
tickets and set out on our own adventure, come what may. We actually
did find a phone number on a website, which we called to book a
hotel, but again we were thwarted. “So, you're not in Narin yet?”
came the response. “Why are you calling? Call us when you get
here.”
Luckily, at the last minute before
leaving, a local teacher we work with happily arranged for us to
meet her uncle, who offers home-stays through CBT-Eco, when we arrived in Kochkor.
Considering that our bus would arrive at 1 a.m. in the tiny, dark,
and empty main street of the village, it was wonderful knowing that
someone was going to come pick us up. Wednesday evening the four of
us piled onto the bus, and five hours later, we were shaken awake by
fellow passengers letting us know that this was our stop. We groggily
exited the muggy bus to be shocked awake by the crisp night air
meeting our sweaty skin. We dug around in our bags for our
sweatshirts while we waited for the uncle – Kuban – to pick us
up. He was extremely nice to us, speaking all in Kyrgyz, which was
wonderful. He took us to his house, showed us to our clean, little
room, and made sure we knew where the outdoor bathroom was. Then he
left us to crash.
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| Kochkor village by day |
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| Rice kasha for breakfast! |
In the morning, the bright sun felt
wonderful, complimenting the chill from the air. The kids explored
the yard and the beautiful garden. Kuban's daughter, Shoola, served
us a nice breakfast of rice kasha, bread with jam and butter, airan
(liquid yogurt, or kefir in Russian), and - of course – tea. Then
she arranged a taxi driver to take us to Son Kul, a lake high in the
mountains about three hours away. Bargaining on the phone, Shoola
told the driver, “Alar tourister emes, alar mugalimder” - they're
not tourists, they're teachers. And so, we got the non-tourist price
for everything!
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| Passing through Kochkor center, leaving for Son Kul. |
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| Mountain roads |
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| Beautifully creviced mountains |
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| Boys chilling in the car. I like their profiles. |
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| Photo break |
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| Some cows pass by. |
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| These are yaks, though the photo is blurry from the moving car. |
The drive to Son Kul was an adventure
in itself. Higher and higher we drove on steep dirt roads that wove
back and forth up one side of the mountain and down the other. We
stopped once for photos, and then several more times – for car
trouble. Perhaps because of the demanding roads, our taxi began to
choke and lurch, pushed to its maximum capabilities. Eventually it
sputtered and died, and our driver Sheshanbek jumped out and busied
himself collecting water from the stream and pouring it in various
places under the hood. Jumping back in the car, we held our
breaths as the it finally started and we drove a few more feet
before the taxi heaved its resignation. Out jumped Sheshanbek again,
tinkering under the hood, collecting more water, trying to start the
car, with little effect. We began to feel pessimistic about actually
arriving at Son Kul. We were in the middle of nowhere in the
mountains on a deserted road with no phone service. Hmmmm. Luckily,
we had some bottled water and beautiful views.
Amazingly, about half an hour later,
the car roared to life and charged vigorously up the steep roads. The
kids cheered. They were delighted again when we drove through a herd
of sheep which covered the road completely. The two shepherd boys on
horseback looked to be at most ages 10 and 6. Sheshanbek honked,
Sebby squealed “SHEEPS!”, the shepherd boys yelled, and Misha
laughed as we parted the sheep on our way through the narrow road.
At long last (all I know is that it was
considerably longer than the three-hour drive we were expecting), we
could see Son Kul in the distance, and we found ourselves on a huge
plateau with mountains rimming the edges all around us. Son Kul has
an altitude of 3000 meters (nearly 10,000 feet), and the mountain
pass which leads to the lake is even higher, at 3450 meters. There
were no hotels, no stores, nothing but beautiful white yurts
scattered on the flat, green jailoo. We passed several yurts, drove
through a shallow stream, and eventually came to our site – an
encampment of three yurts and a cooking tent, with sheep, cows,
sheep, a dog, two kittens, and a donkey. The family living there
stays on Son Kul from April to October, returning to Kochkor for the
coldest months. Considering how cold I was in August, I would hate to think about how cold it is in October!
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| Running free |
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| A Kyrgyz cowboy |
When they showed us to our yurt, the kids got so
excited. “This is OURS? Cool!” Misha exclaimed. He and Sebby ran
inside, admiring the beautiful pillows, shirdaks, and tushuks (rugs
and cushions) lining the edges, the doors that opened and closed, the
ceiling piece in the hole at the top of the yurt. The
kyrgyz word for yurt is boz-ui, meaning “grey house.” Made from
sheep wool pressed into thick felt, the boz-ui can easily be taken
down and set up, as the Kyrgyz people used to do when they were
nomadic. There are many similarities between Kyrgyz and Native
American traditions, which were even more obvious now that we have stayed in a yurt.
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| The yurt seems to look bigger inside than one would assume from the outside! |
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| The ceiling piece is called a tunduk, which is featured on the Kyrgyz flag. Ropes hanging down on the outside of the yurt control the flap to let in more light. |
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| Time to explore! |
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| Wood supports inside the yurt |
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| Triple yurts |
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| A yurt city in the distance was mainly for tourists. |
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| I loved the view out our yurt door. |
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| Misha peeks out. The rolled-up door cover keeps wind out at night. |
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| Peek-a-boo, Sebby. |
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| Two little yurts crouch by the mountains. |
As is customary in Kyrgyzstan, food was
first on the agenda. They brought us hot potatoes with meat called
kurdak, as well as bread, jam, candy, and tea. We ate heartily, then
the kids ran outside to explore while Josh and I relaxed, satisfied
in knowing that there was nothing that the kids could break or get
hurt on outside. Nothing but grass and sunshine!
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| Kurdak, tea, borsook (fried bread), jam ... |
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| A salad of cucumbers and tomatoes. The little bowl has a type of kasha made from buttermilk and flour called chubugu. |
Even during the hottest part of the
day, the breeze is very cool, so I often kept my sweatshirt handy.
The sun, however, beat down warmly, giving us a sunburn before we
even realized it. We walked down to the lake through uneven, clumpy
pastures which gave Sebby instant motiviation to maneuvre his way
along. At the lake, we skipped rocks and walked along the shore,
watching horses graze.
Sheshabek offered to drive us down to
a more beachy spot, so we accepted and sat on the warm sandy, rocky
shore. Sheshanbek invited Josh to swim, which Josh agreed to only
because he thought it was a joke. Turns out it wasn't a joke, as
Sheshanbek peeled off his clothes and waded on in. Josh followed
suit, wincing at the cold and barely believing what he was doing. We
are told that the lake doesn't even thaw until June. When Sebby saw
what Daddy was doing, he immediately decided that he wanted to swim
too, so I helped him take off all his clothes and he dashed right
into the water up to his waist. Of course, then Misha wanted to join
the fun. Off came more clothes and he ran into the water, only to run
right back out after the first shock of cold! On his second attempt,
he waded in up to his waist. Unfortunately, getting out of the water was
even worse than staying in, with the cool breeze blowing on
their wet bodies.
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| Horses come to take a drink. |
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| Josh and Sheshanbek |
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| Sebby is eager to join |
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| Misha ran in - and ran out! |
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| Daddy and sons in Son Kul |
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| Brrrr! Run, run, run. |
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| Sparkling water. |
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| I was plenty cool as it was without swimming! |
We headed back to our yurt and enjoyed
the remaining sunlight. Eight-year-old Altinai played with Misha and
Sebby and talked to us. (Altinai is a very popular Kyrgyz name meaning "Golden Moon.") She spoke only Kyrgyz, which was perfect
because practicing a foreign language with children is fun and
without pressure. She told us about her family, her animals, milking
the cows, and about being careful of the horses because they can
kick. We greatly enjoyed how everyone spoke to us only in Kyrgyz,
with the exception of Sheshanbek, who talked to us in Russian. In
Bishkek, we rarely get a chance to use Kyrgyz outside of our lessons,
because Russian is so prevalent and because our Russian is far
stronger than our Kyrgyz. It was exciting to actually use our Kyrgyz
language skills, and we got a lot of compliments. People are always pleased when foreigners try to learn their language. We taught Misha and Sebby little essentials, such as
kel (come), otur (sit), rahmat (thank you), and jakshi (good).
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| Altinai introduces the kids to a kitten. |
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| Misha, Sebby, and Altinai skipping rocks. |
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| Misha and the kitten became fast friends. |
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| Playing Durak in our yurt. |
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| Altinai gives Sebby a short ride. |
As the sun started to set, we watched
Altinai and her older sister riding horses to bring the flock of
sheep, goats, and calves in from the pasture back to the camp. Misha
desperately wanted to pet a sheep, but the sheep steered clear of
him.
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| Altinai in action. |
Before the sun had even set completely,
about 7 p.m., the heat of the day vanished and a cold wind started to
blow. We put on sweatshirts and extra socks. Later, we ended up
layering on almost all the clothes we had brought – pajamas,
clothes, and sweatshirts! Even so, we didn't really feel warm until
we had eaten our evening soup and hot tea. When the darkness set in,
they turned on one little light bulb hanging from the yurt's ceiling
for us, powered by a generator. We spread out the huge stack of
tushuks and blankets to make beds, and snuggled in. Before falling
asleep, one woman started a fire for us in the little stove, stocking
it with cow chips. Josh was the first one out – thanks to the
allergy medicine which is so necessary for him this August. I tucked
Sebby in beside him, and climbed in beside Misha, knowing that the
kids would get cold if they slept without a parent. Burying ourselves
in the many blankets, we fell asleep as the stove warmed the yurt.
However, a few hours later, the fire was out the yurt was freezing.
Sebby woke me up, whimpering because of the complete absence of
light. “Mama, I can't see you! I can't see you!” When he followed
my voice, he curled in beside me, his little body cold and his face
wet with tears. Kids just can't seem to stay in their blankets! By
early morning, Misha was falling out of his blankets on the other
side, and I told him to go snuggle in with Daddy. Brrr!
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| Lighting a fire in the stove. |
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| Fast asleep |
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| Time to get up! |
Misha immediately noticed how beautiful
the yurt ceiling looked with the morning light sparkling through the
little holes. “I see the stars!” he told me, though actually it
was the sun.
Going out to use the outhouse, I was relieved to find it
much warmer outside the yurt than inside, and we all got up and sat
outside in the sun. After our kasha breakfast, we walked down by the
lake again, and a short while later, said thank you to everyone and
climbed back in Sheshanbek's taxi.
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| Sebby and the outhouse. |
This time, the drive went smoothly, and
we only stopped to take photos of the majestic mountain views.
Breathtaking! By late afternoon, we were back in Kochkor, greeted by
Shoola and her children. Misha talked with 10-year-old Islam in
Russian. We chatted with Shoola in a mix of English and Kyrgyz, then
I helped her prepare soup for supper. I loved how she could simply
walk into her garden, grab some cabbage, potatoes, green onions, and
carrots, and head straight to her kitchen. Their garden was
absolutely beautiful. Kuban told me in Kyrgyz that the kids were
welcome to pick karagat (black currants) and take them with us,
because there was no one to pick them. Sebby was gung ho when I
handed him a little bag, and he began picking them, one at a time.
Pick one, put in in the bag. Pick another one …. Misha joined him,
picking several at a time until he had a handful to add to the bag.
Even though none of us really appreciate the taste of currants,
picking them was a blast.
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| Misha, Sebby, Shoola, and her four children in the garden. |
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| Misha and Urguch by the apple tree. |
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| Off to the garden to get some veggies for dinner. |
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| Ready to pick some berries! |
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| Slowly but surely |
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| Cabbages |
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| Someday I'd love to have a garden like this. |
We filled our bellies with Shoola's
delicious soup, and the kids enjoyed themselves all evening, playing
in the yard and across the street in the shady pasture where Shoola's
children had hung up ropes to swing on. We spent that night with them
in Kochkor, and the next morning walked around the village briefly
before packing up. The kids loved the chickens, noisy roosters, baby
chicks, and the adorable colt grazing in the pasture. The colt didn't
mind being petted by two strange boys.
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| Mmm, soup! |
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| Shoola's huge kazans for frying meat. A kazan is a bit like a wok. |
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| Kurut dries on the windowsill. Kurut is dried, salted kefir. It tastes a little like cheese. |
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| Shoola, me, and the kids. |
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| Islam and Urguch show Misha and Sebby the swings. |
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| So sweet |
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| Our little walk down the road |
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| Josh with some village boys who really wanted to be in a photo. I bet they'd love to know they were on the internet. :) |
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| The donkey grazing at the edge of the village. Josh innocently calls this photo "The Ass." |
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| Further attempts at petting sheep were also unsuccessful. |
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| But this colt was willing to be stroked! |
Coming back to Bishkek turned out to be
easy. In Kochkor center, we found another family who was driving
to Bishkek, and we simply paid them some gas money to take us. We are
so happy that our trip turned out not only so cheap (less than $200
total), but also that we got a glimpse of real Kyrgyz life – a
village, a yurt, the language, the land, and such generous people.
* * *
A few extra shots:
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| Misha running off toward the snow. It was farther away than it looked! |
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| Misha and I walking back to the car. |
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| Zoomed in. |
