Urban Exploration in Rural Kyrgyzstan

July 23, 2013

Life at the Beach Camp is incredibly relaxing. I have to make sure that I am awake at meal times (9am, 1pm, and 6pm) but other than that I have absolutely no responsibilities. And, as I am once again on my own, I no longer need to plan my day around the lives of others. I loved both of my host families, but I definitely prefer being in control of my own life. Of course, there’s not much to do here, especially as my Floridian body has completely ruled out swimming in this frigid lake, and as I am not one for sunbathing. This means I’m mostly left with long walks, long naps, and long sessions with my kindle. I don’t mind; I’ll be returning home in eight days, at which point I will have a lot to accomplish before the start of the fall semester on August 19th; I may as well enjoy doing nothing for as long as I can. Plus it's pretty damn scenic here.

This morning I made it my mission to explore the large and seemingly abandoned/unfinished hotel located just behind the hot springs. I love all sorts of derelict and abandoned structures, and this one has fascinated me ever since my first trip down to the shore with Rita and Kuban. From a distance, it was impossible to tell if it was still under construction, if it had been abandoned mid-construction, or if it had been finished and then abandoned. However, determining the nature of the structure seemed likely to entail sneaking past the obviously inhabited home located within the fence surrounding the derelict hotel. I suppose a more normal individual would have simply asked the residents of said home for information about the hotel – as well as for permission to explore. But I’m anything but normal.

This morning was warm and sunny, so after breakfast I grabbed my camera and set out to walk around and behind the hotel. A large area (far larger than the hotel itself) is fenced in, meaning that this was a somewhat lengthy walk. Additionally, I wanted to approach the hotel from the southwest, since the home on-site is located on the northeastern corner of the property. I was worried that there would be no means of entry from the southwest, but luckily for me there was an open gate.

There were no back doors into the hotel; however, each of the rooms had a door opening up onto a balcony. (By “door” I mean an empty hole in the concrete; there were no actual doors or windows installed.) I was able to scramble over the balcony’s bars and gain entrance to the hotel that way. From what I could tell, the place had been abandoned mid-construction. Light fixtures and wiring had, at one point, been installed, but no doors or windows, and the walls and floors seemed to have never been more than bare concrete. It looks to have been abandoned for several years. I don’t remember it from five years ago, but apparently it was here; I was told that it’s been abandoned there since the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Had the hotel ever been finished, it would have been a comfortable, modern facility, with one bathroom (including, from what I could tell, a toilet and shower) for every four rooms. Each room would have had large windows and a balcony, overlooking either Issyk Kul to the north or the mountains to the south. However, in its current state, the place is far from modern or comfortable. The fixtures and wiring had been ripped from the bare concrete walls, cows and sheep had obviously had the run of the ground floor for some time, and there was evidence of the occasional squatter and teenaged partier. While it is probably salvageable, doing so would cost a lot of money. As such, I suspect that it will remain as is for a long time, if not forever.

Japanistan

July 22, 2013

There’s a group of Japanese JIKA volunteers (similar to the US Peace Corps) who had been staying at the Beach Camp as part of their orientation to Kyrgyzstan. I’ve been surprised by the rather large Japanese presence in Kyrgyzstan this time around; I don’t recall a single Japanese person from five years ago. This trip I’ve stayed several times at the Sakkura Hostel, owned by a Kyrgyz woman and her Japanese husband, and each time there have been quite a few Japanese tourists staying there. Additionally, there is something on Sovietskaya in Bishkek called something along the lines of the “Kyrgyzstan-Japan House of Friendship.” Last year there was a Japanese student who stayed with Kuban and Rita, and now there’s a group of nine students here. They apparently all study Kyrgyz in Japan, which is quite fascinating to me. Even my cousin’s Japanese friend whom I met during my brief trip to Fukuoka and Beppu back in 2011 is fascinated by Kyrgyzstan, and visited last year. I can understand why there are so many ethnic Koreans here (thanks to Stalin’s relocating of so many from the area around Vladivostok over into Central Asia, there’s a large percentage of ethnic Koreans who were born here, as well as a quite a few who move here to do business with the local Korean population), but the reason for the Japanese interest eludes me.

The weather this morning was cold and wet. As such, I got up, had breakfast, and went back to bed. I awoke around noon when the Japanese JIKA volunteers returned from their hike, making a good deal of racket. I wandered down to the café in search of lunch, only to discover a large collection of Kyrgyz host families from around the region. The Japanese volunteers were being parceled out to various homestays (where they would be staying for only one week, before returning to Bishkek), and the London School’s director was giving an introductory presentation on how to deal with foreigners, similar to the one she gave on the day that I arrived in Toguz Bulak back in May. Rita and Kuban were there, as they were taking in one of the students. The director of the school in Toguz Bulak was there as well, as she too was taking in a student, although unfortunately Rakhat and Altynbek were not present. I chatted with both the director of the school in Toguz Bulak, as well as with Rita. Rita told me that Jarkynai (the two year old) keeps going into “my” room to look for me, and that Котчик continues to sleep in there. (I’m glad that their Japanese student likes cats, as he will at least have company for the next week; although she is afraid of big dogs. As much as I don’t like to think about poor Buddy on a chain, here’s hoping he’s tied up when she’s around, since we know how he reacts when he senses fear.) Rita also told me that Aidai has been using the classroom materials that I left her to conduct English lessons with her friends. Awesomeness.

Rita and Kuban invited me to come down to their yurt in the evening, around 8:45. I met Rita at their yurt, and then we walked over to a different family’s yurt where a Ramadan evening feast was underway. The yurt was packed with various people from around the village, many of whom I had met before, including several former students. The Japanese volunteer who is staying with Rita and Kuban was there as well, and I sat next to her. She spoke fairly good English, and quite excellent Kyrgyz. As my Kyrgyz remains very basic, and her Russian was essentially nonexistent, so we had to rely on her English skills when we communicated with each other. Apparently Котчик has befriended her already; I told her to be sure to sneak him scraps. I learned that when she returns to Bishkek, she will volunteer there as a social worker for two years.

Two of the Beach Camp's Japanese visitors, down in Rita and Kuban's cafe.

I her asked why so many Japanese people are visiting Kyrgyzstan nowadays. From what I could gather, this is due to the gorgeous scenery of Kyrgyzstan and the fact that the Kyrgyz and Japanese languages follow the same structural patterns, making it fairly easy for Japanese folks to learn to speak Kyrgyz. I know very little about Japanese, but I do know that Japanese and Korean follow the same structural patterns. They also sound very similar, as they use similar sounds (specifically similar vowels) to form their words. Now, if Japanese and Kyrgyz follow the same structural patterns, and Japanese and Korean follow the same structural patterns, one can conclude that Korean and Kyrgyz follow the same structural patterns as well. I’d never noticed the similarities between Korean and Kyrgyz before, although my knowledge of both of those languages is fairly limited. Additionally, they both sound very different, as Kyrgyz vowels are vastly different from Korean vowels. However, once I thought about it, the languages do seem to follow the exact same pattern. And when listening to the Japanese student speak Kyrgyz with a Japanese accent, the structural similarities were quite apparent.

In which I (briefly) ride a horse, and then move to the Beach Camp

July 20, 2013

I had been petting Buddy and Mocha when I realized that one of them must have rolled in something rotten. Yuck. I made my way out to the street for the purpose of washing my hands in the aryk when I noticed a rather attractive specimen of horse tied to a power pole. Thus distracted, I diverted course from the aryk and wandered over to pet her for a little bit. Shortly thereafter, her owner moseyed up. He was an elderly and slightly less than sober fellow who had been chatting with some other folks down the block. He asked if I wanted to ride her. Having been in Kyrgyzstan for nearly three months without having ridden a single horse (something rather unheard of, surely) I jumped at the chance. Not that I could ride very far, as there’s just the one main street in Bar Bulak, and I was waiting for Kuban to show up and cart me off to the London School’s Beach Camp.

The horse’s owner hoisted me up onto his horse (I really could’ve mounted her myself, but I guess he had no way of knowing that) and gave me the ever so helpful instructions of “Just don’t fall off!” before moseying back over to his friends. I rode the horse up and down the street a few times, weaving her in and out of various obstacles. She was incredibly responsive to my commands – much more so than Honey (my American horse). Of course, as she is used for transportation, she probably wondered if she had landed a drunk driver, as I kept instructing her to do things that did not involve going in a straight line from Point A to Point B. I have to admit that it was amusing to ride past locals (including former students) who had seen me every day for the past month – they all looked quite astonished by the discovery that The American was actually a competent horsewoman. After a couple of turns up and down the street, I dismounted, and the horse’s owner, complete with a freshly opened bottle of beer and a lit cigarette, mounted and rode away.

I washed my hands in the aryk and returned to my room to await Kuban’s return with the car. I had rather a long wait. My “early” arrival at Beach Camp ended up not being all that early. See, the previous day, the engine of Kuban’s old Audi had begun doing its best to emulate that of a Harley. Now, the Harley sound is great… on a Harley. But no car – especially an elderly Audi – is supposed to sound like that. As of this morning, the car had ceased running entirely. Now, getting one’s car fixed rapidly is next to impossible in a big city with plenty of mechanics and auto-parts stores. The fact that Kuban was able to have his car up, running, and purring like a kitten by 5pm in Bar Bulak was pretty miraculous. But, this also meant that despite the fact that I was up, packed, and ready to go by 10am, we didn’t leave for the Beach Camp until shortly after 5pm.

I’ll be staying at the London School’s Beach Camp for a week free of charge as a thank you present for having spent the summer volunteering for them. For someone who has spent the past two months living the life of a rural Kyrgyz villager, the London School’s Beach Camp is a veritable modern paradise. It’s a two story hotel (of sorts) located just up the hill from the yurt camp where Rita and Kuban have their yurt “hotel” and café. The hotel has 16 rooms (mostly singles, some doubles), although only two bathrooms. But get this: THEY HAVE RUNNING WATER! And hot showers! And sit down toilets! At least someone out here has had the initiative to have an electric well installed, although its water pressure seems to vary. (As I hadn’t showered since my visit to the hot springs 13 days previously, one of the first things I did was to avail myself of that luxury. That and the sit-down toilet.)

The London School's Beach Camp Hotel
My room
My view :-)

For those of you who have followed my Kyrgyzstan adventures since 2008 (or who have read through my archives), the Beach Camp is located at the spot where A. went swimming in Issyk Kul back in February 2008 when K, A, and I took our first trip to Kara-Koo, and where I rode my first Kyrgyz horse. My room has huge windows and a balcony facing the lake. It’s a lovely place to relax – although as there’s not much to do here, I suspect I will be starting to go stir crazy by the time next Saturday rolls around.

The director and several other London School folks were at the Beach Camp when I arrived, so I took the opportunity to see if they could arrange for me to have a car from here to Bishkek, so I wouldn’t have to take a marshrutka with all of my absurd amounts of baggage. Supposedly I will have a car here at 11am on Saturday to drive me and all of my crap to Bishkek. It will cost $20, which is totally expensive for Kyrgyz travel, but most definitely worth not having to be crammed into a marshrutka with all of said crap. Woohoo!