Author name: Miha

Traditionally nomadic people, the Kyrgyz, have many legends, myths, songs, stories and customs. One of the most important Muslim traditions is “Sunnot toi”, the circumcision ritual. Boys between 3 and 5 years of age have to go through it. “It is considered to be one of the happiest and most important events in a boy’s life” (Nomad’s Dream). There is a big celebration and relatives and friends are invited. In the beginning of September the Jannat Regency in Bishkek was alive with late night parties. Live entertainment, lots of food and drinks, nicely dressed people, flowers, dance, music and beautiful women. The area was like a magnet for some other guests from the hotel. Mostly for the curious ones with time on their hands, the ones that did not need to sleep just yet. Each evening, up into the late night hours, the party was on. Out in the open air, by the nicely decorated pool three nights in the row we witnessed some event going on. One was a wedding, on one I still do not know the occasion, but by far the richest and fanciest was the “sunnot toi”. Three boys were celebrated and a picture of them together, wearing white clothes, was permanently displayed during the party on a huge projection screen above the stage. The pool was decorated with floating bouquets of flowers and the live entertainment was great. There were singers and dancers from many nationalities and music and dance in different traditions. Even a Michael Jackson impersonator was present. Not invited as guests of the party, but as guests of the hotel, my colleagues and I could still stand around, enjoy the entertainment and take pictures. I do wonder, since no one bothered us at all, if anyone would have asked anything had we sat at a table. Just joking! Not that gutsy yet! Another fear to conquer!? Hee! Hee!

This September morning began early as the night before I was determined to get up and go to see the Burana Tower. Knowing I have to leave the next day at 3am my concern was to get back in time for some sleep . After a good breakfast in the hotel I almost changed my mind. I was feeling a bit tired and lazy. Again, I had to push myself and just roll with it. Two mashrutcas (local buses) later I got to the Vostok Artovokzal (East Bus Station) with the help of the information given by the hotel’s front desk. Besides the mashrutca’s numbers I asked them to write in Cyrillic letters all of the bus destinations as well. Once at the East Bus Station, bus # 353 goes to the city of Tokmok. It left me in a big intersection and the indicator I had seen before showed 10 km to the tower, even if my map said 12-13km. With the help of my compass on the cell phone I made sure which direction South was and began walking. I could have walked all of the 10-12 km but to do it back and forth would have been too much, so I knew I would have to improvise. Passing a driver that was just getting in his car from a shop I decided to ask if I am going in the right direction, and if any “mashrutca” goes that way. He shook his head as there was no bus that way and asked me to get in the car. His car was facing the direction of my walk so I kind of guessed before asking, that he might go at least a portion of the way towards the Burana Tower. I realized later that he went to some degree out of his way to take me to the tower’s gate. I offered some money for the trip, but as with a lot of these nice people, I had to leave the car money in hand. My good luck put me at the site early, before any other visitor. It was great to have the whole place to myself and to enjoy such a vast, peaceful and quiet site in the morning. The entrance fee was just 50 Som (about $1). I first visited the museum of the site and found out later that a lot of the artifacts found here were moved to Russia during the communist regime. The yurt behind the museum served as a gift shop but prices were kind of high. I just got some nice postcards and admired the yurt’s interior. The Cemetery of Balbals (Balabal is a stone warrior) was the main attraction for me as I had never seen such stones before. They are a 7th century tradition as people were making them back then in the honor of dead warriors. They were found in differed areas of Kyrgyzstan and moved here for posterity. Some of the petroglyphs here date back to the 8th century. I took a lot of pictures and loved having the site to myself. Such an immense site and just the nature to be heard! The soft breeze, insects and birds were all I could hear until buses of tourists came in later. Now I was glad that I got up early and got here before of all of them. The Burana Tower was built in the 11th century, while there was a big city on the Great Silk Road. It was 45 meters high at the time and it was used as a watch tower, a landmark for traders and travelers, and as a place to call local people to pray. The city’s name was Balasagun and traders would sell their goods and spend the night here. Sometime during the 15th century an earthquake hit the place and shortened the tower by almost half. There are 24 meters left of it, reinforced and restored. The city of Balasagun had clay buildings and time has covered them up. The inhabitants left after the earthquake as they perceived the place as being damned by God. The interior tower can be seen as well, with stairs to climb for an upper view too. The challenge is the very abrupt, narrow and dark staircase. If you are not the only one in the place make sure no one goes in the opposite direction while you climb or descend. Also the steps are four brick and mortar layers high, topped with one thick wood piece. My piece of advice is an obvious one: go there early. Should I also mention that a travel agency asked for $200 to take me there from Bishkek with a driver and maybe a guide? Maybe as a group you can get the price down but my whole adventure came to less than $6 and I was back to my hotel by 4-5pm.    

Kyrgyzstan was part of the USSR, and under Soviet power from 1919 to 1991. In my walks through Bishkek I saw many buildings that reminded me of the land and times I grew up in, more so even than those lands do today. It seems like time did not change this country as much as it did others. Sure there are new buildings and malls in some areas but the old communist buildings prevail. I was transported back in time not only by the tall gray cement buildings but also by the small, square brick houses, with their old wood window frames and wood doors painted blue or some white or green. A few of those houses resembled so well my grandparent’s home that my memory brought back even the smell of the inside of their house. It made me almost cry thinking of my departed grandparents and the hard life they lived. The house I recall is long gone too. The communist regime decided to demolish the whole area and build their boring, gray, tall cement buildings. No one had a choice. They had to witness their homes bulldozed down and had to move in one of the cement boxes themselves. All this after they already had lost their first home, farmland and windmill to a war that took a part of Romania and annexed it to the new USSR. They had to flee with two small kids and whatever they could store in a horse pulled wagon. If they did not do that, my then young grandfather would have been sent to Siberia. One of my grandmother’s brothers lost this way, never to be seen again. Sure their life was harsh and their philosophy was different. How could they think the same way we do after such life experiences? Hard times, a lot of losses, hard work, and no fun; they managed to put their kids through school and even one of them (my father) through the university. Fun was, for my grandmother, a word she spoke with contempt. I miss them both so much! I hope to meet again someday. I feel like I did not even get to know my grandfather well as he was a quiet and calm man. As for my grandmother, I will always miss her, as I lived with her for a few good years- and it was good. Despise those years I feel like there is so much I do not know about their life. So much I would like to ask and learn. On my walks through Bishkek a lot of buildings, parks and statues reminded me of those communist times. The times during which a lot of us grew up. How did that mark us? In what way has our experience then formed our life’s philosophy, and mark us now?  

Walking along one of the trails in the Ala Archa National Park in Kyrgyzstan I came along some pine trees that had all kinds of ribbons tied to their lower branches. I had no idea what this was for so I took pictures hoping for an answer later. I forgot to ask at the hotel so I made it back home clueless.  I am happy I made new local friends in Kyrgyzstan. I was able to send e-mails with the pictures and ask. So if you are curious like me, here is the answer from my new friends: “In our nation it is considered as a tree of wishes and happiness. Visiting these places people tie ribbons and ask God for the welfare of the family, the people and the whole world. Sometimes they tie these tapes to fulfill their desires and dreams. Some people tie ribbons and pray for the departed souls of loved ones from this world.” He said that he translated from the Russian language into English with the help of Google Translate, so if he is wrong, “write a petition”. Funny! I love his humor! And I love such traditions. Another tradition in Kyrgyzstan I will mention in another post, Right of Circumcision. That one is painful for two year old boys! Ouch!

Must be that someone up there loves me and hears my wishes. On my last trip I left Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan after spending just one day there and wished so much that I could come back in the summer for a longer stay. I could see the impressive Tian-Shan mountains from the airport runway and wanted so bad to get there.  Summer was going away fast. It was beginning of September already and I got my wish just two days later. Instead of being sent home from Germany I was sent back to Bishkek for 71 hours. Finding this out, I began researching travel agencies for tours offered outside of the city. All of the offers I received from two different agencies were two or three day tours with prices going up for less people in the group. I could not convince any of my colleagues to join me and I did not like the idea of going alone with a guide and driver just by myself, for a high price. As a result I researched things to do on my own.  Willing to take public transportation no matter if by bus or train or even a bike if needed, willing to walk a lot or even hitch-hike, too, I discovered marvelous places. The experiences I enjoy when I let the fears lift away and push myself against comfort and laziness always prove to be exciting, refreshing, new and well worth it. Not to mention inexpensive. One tour company was asking for US$200 for a day trip that on my own using public buses (“mashrutca”) cost me less than US$6. Any mashrutca in the city is just 10 Som (1$=49Som today so 10Som is about 20 cents). From the intersection just before the Osh Bazaar in Bishkek I took another mashrutca to Kashka-Suu (25 Som). This one was mashrutca number 265. There might be other numbers going there as well. Just ask for Kashka-Suu as it is the furthest you can go with public transportation towards the entrance of the Ala-Archa National Park. There is still quite a distance to cover from there on and the view is not yet that great so I stopped a car. It was a week-end and I knew there would be no shortage of cars. Caution advised when doing this, but if a family with small kids stops you know you are very likely the safest you could be. And with many cars on the road you can pick and choose. No two experiences are alike as you meet different people in your travels. In my case the first car that stopped was a family with an 8 year old shy boy. They went past the car entrance of the park but stopped before the gate to the trails. There are many kilometers between the entrance for cars and the gate for hikes, and as I was invited to accompany the family to their party, I decided to join them for a while. There were a few big tents set by the river and their friend had rented one for his birthday party. Four families with children sat around a lot of food and drinks and we joined them. They had no alcohol around and this made me feel even safer.  I was watching my plate being filled again and again. They were such nice and friendly people and some spoke English well. At some point I knew I could not eat one more thing (I already had a big breakfast at the hotel) and realized that they will stay in the same place for hours. I apologized for leaving and hit the road again. I did not get to walk far before another car stopped, even without having a thumb out. I knew right away the driver was English speaker and it turned out he was going into the park for a work related barbeque party, and I was invited to that one as well. No way I could eat more! He took me all the way to the gate and I began walking the trails from there on. The sign posted nearby was giving info for three different trails. I will post the picture below in case someone wants to read it and choose their trail ahead of time. One trail is for parents with small children and I saw people in their mid 20’s carrying kids on their backs – a bit too adventurous for the frozen river we had to cross and the rolling stones under our feet. But then again, I am not sure what trails they have followed versus I, and if they did not go further than advised. I loved the view and the experience. These pictures do not capture the fresh air, soft sun, smells of cooked food, the colorful amazing people around, and the majesty of the mountains and surrounding nature- not to mention the grateful feelings one can have experiencing it all. I would return again and recommend it to anyone. Ancestry of nomads, I found the Kyrgyz people nice, friendly, hospitable and helpful. I love the yurts they travel with and their building fascinates me. Is this because I resonate with such a nomadic life? Could they sense that and is this why I was invited to all these parties? Who knows? Fact is that I could have eaten myself into oblivion going from party to party in the park. Yet, I preferred to hike a bit and enjoy the view. Next time I will leave earlier and plan my hike better. I would love to go to the water fall on one of the trails and maybe even do the 6 km trail for advanced hikers as they say it would only take 3 hours to complete the whole loop.

On one of my short layovers in Bishkek I withdrew too much money out of the ATM, so I was on the look out to spend it somewhere. Luis, one of my colleagues, and I took a cab to the Osh Market but did not find much we wanted. With just one day left in Bishkek we did not need to buy any food, but this would have been the perfect place for it.  One can find here fresh spices, fruits, vegetables, sweets and breads. Last time here, in the beginning of September, people selling all kinds of berries in big buckets were aligned even outside, before getting to the bazaar’s gate. This last time I took the time and put in the effort of looking at a map of the city and learning how to get there by public transportation (mashrutca). The people at the hotel’s front desk gave me the information needed and wrote for me in Russian the names of the destinations, so I could ask directions or compare writings on the mashrutca’s window signs. The whole trip there was not too bad and a challenge I enjoyed. Last time, with Luis, we took the cab there and coming back was funny. Not all cab drivers knew the hotel or understood us. When they did, they were asking too much money for the ride, as they often do everywhere with foreigners. We took a break away from them and in the end we found one that charged us a decent price. He took us to the hotel and I had a blast listening to him and Luis telling each other stories. Each in his own language, neither understanding one single world the other said. It was funny to me and I enjoyed the ride, relishing in their conversation taking place with a childlike innocence. I realized later that children never have such language problems either. They just talk to each other anyway, engaged by tone and intent. Sweet people, Luis and our driver. We often do this anyway, as adults. We act like listening but following a different train of thought while our interlocutor talks. We also sometimes blindly follow others, not paying attention to the way we go. One important thing to know in Bishkek is that the sidewalks are awfully bad. Better watch your feet as one could have a bad fall. Trust me, a hospital here is not a place you want to be in. I now know that the Hyatt Regency, where we used to stay, is closer to the Osh Bazaar than the Jannat Regency, where we have stayed lately, is. A mashrutca must have been easy to take too. Yet, at the time I did not consult a map. I now love mashrutcas and interacting with people in Kyrgyzstan. Unfortunately I can only communicate in English. Yet, I found a few young people that spoke English and were willing to help. They love to practice the language if opportunity comes their way.