Chong Kemin and Bilimkana

May 15, 2013

After N and A returned from their horseback ride, we gathered all of our things and lugged them into the center of Kochkor, where our first stop was a local café – a different one from the place we had visited the day before. In contrast to the café of the previous day, this place was excellent. Not only did they have everything that was on their menu, but the service was excellent and the food was delicious. By that time my stomach had settled to the point that I was actually able to eat a bowl of borscht.

After lunch, we walked over to the taxi area and first attempted to arrange a taxi to Kalmak Ashu, the small village in the Chong Kemin valley which was our next destination. Unfortunately, as the taxi drivers knew that they wouldn’t be able to get a return fare from Kalmak Ashu to Kochkor, they openly laughed at us and were only willing to drive us there for absurd sums of money. Luckily Tom (the fellow we were meeting in Kalmak Ashu) had his own car and had said that if need be he could meet us in Bystrovka (AKA Kemin), a village located on the main drag between Issyk Kul and Bishkek – and a place that it was a lot easier to arrange transport to. We ended up arranging space in a shared taxi to Bystrovka, and we met Tom at the base of the statue of Shabdan Batyr that dominates the village.

Leaving Kochkor for Bystrovka/Kemin
The Orto-Tokoi Reservoir, now nicely full
Shabdan Batyr, Kemin/Bystrovka

To see the complete set of photos from the drive from Kochkor to Kemin, CLICK HERE.

Tom is the Program Coordinator for the Bilimkana Foundation, a newly established educational foundation which intends to set up thirty, high-quality private-but-affordable schools offering Russian and English education in rural areas of Kyrgyzstan. Nowadays in most rural areas of the country, education is available only in Kyrgyz. While there is nothing whatsoever wrong with speaking or studying Kyrgyz, this leaves children from rural areas at a disadvantage as if you want to be successful in Kyrgyzstan you still really need to know how to speak/read/write in Russian, and to be successful in former Soviet Central Asia, both Russian and English are necessities. Bilimkana is working to level the playing field somewhat for children from rural areas who might otherwise have no chance to learn either Russian or English.

Bilimkana logo and sign

As working for Bilimkana is definitely something that I am interested in doing once I’ve completed my MA TESOL, I had emailed Tom prior to leaving the US in order to express my interest in the program and to suggest that he and I meet up while I was in Kyrgyzstan over the summer. His reply had been to invite all four of us to stay in the Ashu Guesthouse in Kalmak Ashu so that we could see the very first Bilimkana school, meet the students and the teachers, and explore the Chong Kemin Valley. The entire experience was phenomenal. Tom drove us to the guesthouse, a really fantastic and comfortable place, nestled in the valley, surrounded by flowers and cultivated fields, and ringed by snow-capped mountains.

We dumped our bags in our rooms, had some tea with jam and honey, then went for a quick tour of the school. The children study in the morning, and right now they only offer classes to students grades K-2, although they are hoping to expand. English classes are offered to both older kids and adults in the afternoon. We were able to meet one of the teachers and several of the older students.  The school itself was incredible – quality construction and tons of resources, including a computer lab with internet access and wifi. (Apparently the local schools do not offer computer lessons either, whereas Bilimkana does.)

The school building

After a quick tour of the school we decided to drive up the valley just to have a look around. After the villages peter out, there’s simply a gorgeous valley with smatterings of horse/cow/sheep farms here and there. Just outside of the last village we picked up – of all things – a Russian hiker/trekker from Bishkek who was hiking/camping her way around the valley. She was a very interesting woman – if possibly a tad crazy. We drove her several kilometers up the valley to a dairy farm where she arranged to spend the night. We then spent a good bit of time taking photos of the river and the valley, at which point it was time to head back to the guesthouse for dinner – which was delicious and quite expansive.

Me :-)

The following morning – after yet another copious meal at the guesthouse, Tom took us back to the school to meet the children and all of the other teachers. The place is really quite marvelous, and all of the teachers and staff seemed wholly dedicated to what they were doing. The kids were great. They were so happy, and a lovely mixture of shy and excited to see us – and they were eager to practice what little English they knew. It really was a wonderful place. We ate lunch with the children… then returned to the guesthouse where even more lunch was waiting for us. By 1:30pm we had managed to consume three large meals, which was a little insane.

At that point Tom had to go and teach, so we said our goodbyes coupled with many thanks for his hospitality. We then decided to go for a hike in the few hours we had before the last marshrutka of the day left Kalmak Ashu for Bishkek. We hiked up into the foothills of the mountains to the south of Kalmak Ashu, explored a cemetery, met an incredibly friendly horse, and took far too many photos of the incredible views.

Me :-)

At about 5:15 we boarded the marshrutka to Bishkek. We returned to the Sakura hostel, and I went straight to bed, having started to feel a tad motion-sick in the marshrutka.

To see the complete set of photos from Chong Kemin, CLICK HERE.

The State History Museum, Sickness, and Kochkor

May 14, 2013

Sunday we got up around 9ish and wandered back down to Fatboy’s for breakfast (yes, we quickly lapsed into that ex-pat habit). Then we headed to the State Historical Museum. The first floor was filled with a new (and temporary) exhibit on China, which was rather bizarre. Sadly, the second floor – the most wonderful floor in the history of museum floors world wide – was closed for repairs! As we had really only gone to the museum for the purpose of posing with the statuary on the second floor, I have to admit that we hopped over the red ribbon “blocking” entry and set about photographing. There were a bunch of twenty-something women who were cleaning the now-empty exhibit cases, but they studiously ignored us as we frolicked amongst the statuary. We’d made it about halfway through the second floor when an ancient and rather pissed off museum babushka came and told us that the second floor was closed, and then escorted us back to the stairwell. Sigh. Luckily the brilliant mural on the ceiling of the third floor remains – including the death’s head Reagan atop a nuclear bomb. (Sadly, I’ve heard reports that they are planning to completely renovate, modernize, and un-Sovietify the museum. While it is definitely more of a monument to Soviet glory and propaganda than a museum of Kyrgyz history, it is a wonderful monument to history in and of itself; I really wish that they would leave it as-is. However, as the current president is apparently in favor of the overhaul, I guess I should be glad that I’ve had the opportunity to view the museum twice in its original glory.)

We left the museum and wandered around nearby Dubrovy Park, which is filled with bizarre statuary. Then we made our way to a shashlik place near our hostel for a lengthy and delicious lunch. Afterwards we headed to Tsum for some souvenir shopping, and then relaxed in a café on the ground floor for a while. At that point, my stomach began feeling a tad off, but I didn’t really think anything of it. We returned to the hostel where I – being more jet-lagged than the others, who after all had only flown in from the UK – went straight to bed.

Me and a crying rhino
A channels his inner Ned Stark
Shashlik!
Hooray for orange felt hats!

Around 11pm I was awakened by an Aussie dude – one of the residents of our dorm – turning on all the lights, and by a Japanese guy banging away on his laptop. OK, maybe 11pm is an acceptable time to still be awake, but this continued until about 2pm when the lights were finally turned off. The typing continued until about 4am. Now, normally I can sleep through just about anything, but unfortunately around midnight my slightly-off stomach devolved into full blown Kyrgyz Stomach Bug, and I spent the remainder of the night scurrying back and forth between my bed and the toilet, and trying to catch snatches of sleep here and there between the toilet emergencies, glaring bright lights, and the typing. In the morning I felt horrific.

Despite my health issues, we continued on with our plans to go to Kochkor, although I was totally useless as far as taxi negotiation or anything else went. It was a gorgeous day and, being spring, the scenery was lush and green – but I didn’t dare photograph anything, knowing that if I looked through the viewfinder while in a moving vehicle feeling as I did, I would hurl. As it was, I made it about an hour into our three hour drive before having to make use of a barf-bag purloined from Turkish Airlines. The funny thing was, when I (in the front seat, next to the driver) started puking, B started shouting to the driver in Russian, “Stop! Stop! Her health is not good!” But the driver did not so much as slow down. Initially I thought that perhaps, since he was an ethnic Kyrgyz, he might not speak Russian – although surely all taxi drivers based in Russian-speaking Bishkek at the very least know the Russian word for Stop! I sat there for a good hour holding my puke bag, and then it started leaking. Thinking that possibly the driver did not speak Russian, I tapped him on the arm, pointed to the bag, then pointed to the side of the road. He immediately pulled over, allowing me to chuck it out the door. The remainder of our trip to Kochkor was uneventful.

The Kyrgyz government is in the process of widening/repaving the road from Bishkek to Issyk-Kul, so about half of our trip was along brand new, wide, smooth roads. The last quarter of the way from Bishkek to our turn-off for Kochkor was pretty slow going, as the road was torn up and under construction. Nonetheless, we made it to Kochkor in a little under three hours. And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as we arrived in Kochkor, the driver started talking to us in Russian. So god knows why he didn’t understand B. (Perhaps he thought that B was yelling at me to stop puking, instead of shouting at him to stop the car? Who knows.)

We weren’t entirely sure where we needed to go, so we got out of the taxi in the village center. As I was feeling a tad better and hellishly thirsty, I bought some juice and some candy, and then we headed for the Kochkor CBT office to find out the address of our homestay and to get a taxi there. (Even though Kochkor is not a large village, there was no way that I could walk across it carrying all of my things feeling as I did.) After unloading our things at the homestay, we headed back into town on foot – taking photos along the way – and headed to the Altyn Kol handicraft center attached to the CBT office.

A, N, and B, walking through Kochkor
Kochkor's Lenin seems to have been kicked in the crotch a few too many times.
From atop the entrance to the Kochkor Brick Factory
Not sure what this monument is for...

On our way we stopped for lunch at one of the few cafes in town. I was feeling too ill to order anything other than some Coke, which I’d hoped might settle my stomach, but the rest of the group was quite hungry. We were handed a fairly comprehensive menu, but – having plenty of Kyrgyzstan experience under our belts, we had the foresight to ask if they had everything that was on the menu. Haha, not even close. They had only two items: gangfan and cutlet. My companions ordered and ate, although I have to say that the sight and smell of their lunches did not do good things to my stomach.

After my companions finished eating, we headed over to the Altyn Kol handicraft center. This is another great organization, helping local women make money selling traditional handicrafts. I bought some marvelous, pointy-toed orange and green felt slippers. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to spend much time at the handicraft center, because at that point I was starting to feel sick again.

Shyrdaks for sale!
B was quite enamored of this one, although he didn't buy it.

I returned to the homestay, took a shower and collapsed into bed and slept until dinner time. Unfortunately, I actually felt worse when I awoke, and had to miss dinner in order to remain within close proximity to the toilet facilities. Yeah. And then I crawled back into bed and slept until morning. Amazingly I was able to sleep through the night without any interruptions, which was a huge improvement! For breakfast the next morning, I was only able to manage bread and jam and tea, although at least it stayed where I put it. After breakfast N and A went off horseback riding. As much as I love horseback riding around Kochkor, there was no way I was going to subject my stomach to that experience. B and I briefly explored the area near our homestay where the morning light along the mountains was absolutely perfect, and then we returned to our room to nap and await N and A’s return.

To see the complete set of photos from Kochkor, CLICK HERE.

Anger, disappointment, and a dead goat.

July 27, 2008

Just a warning: this post is going to be quite bitchy.

For months now I have been looking forward to the National Horse Games Festival near Kochkor, mainly because of the opportunity to see Ulak-Tartysh, colloquially known among foreigners as “dead goat polo” – a pretty apt description. Unfortunately, while I did get to see dead goat polo, and while I did get some good photographs, the weekend was quite frustrating, and rather a disappointment.

Eight of us had planned to go to the festival together, and the idea was to leave the school after work on Friday, get a van or two taxis from the bus station to Kochkor, spend the night in Kochkor at a CBT homestay, then take the CBT bus to the festival in the morning. It kind of worked out like that. Kind of.

T and L had had a bad experience with the taxi they got a couple weekends when they went to Kochkor, so they were not looking forward to going to the bus station and negotiating for transport. They asked us if it was OK if they got the school to arrange our transport. While we knew this would be more expensive, we agreed, as we also knew it would be easier that haggling with taxi vultures in the dark. N, one of the school’s office staff, found a company which agreed to transport us for roughly 400soms/person (the cost from the bus station is usually 250-350soms/person, depending on your haggling skills and the availability of drivers to your destination), and we agreed. They called back later in the day and said that they’d made a mistake: 400soms was for seven people; it would be more expensive for eight people. Fine. We agreed. I guess at this point this company figured they’d take the foolish rich foreigners for all we were worth and called back to say that it turned out they didn’t have any vans available; they could get us 2 cars for 750soms/person. At this point we said no and figured we’d just go to the bus station and tough it out.

There is a person currently studying Russian and Kyrgyz at the school that we thoroughly dislike. He is unpleasant, rude and constantly says and does things which are inappropriate and offensive. Well, it was at the point where I’d just learned that I’d be haggling at the bus station after all (I being the best Russian speaker of our group), when this guy came up to me and informed me that he was coming with us. I blatantly told him that he couldn’t tag along, because our homestay only had 8 beds; he said this wasn’t a problem, as he had already been to CBT and booked himself a homestay for the night! When I asked *which* Kochkor homestay, he said he didn’t know, “number 27, some street” – as ours was #32 “some street” that was at least a small relief. However, at that point I was beginning to feel a bit stressed as to how I was going to negotiate taxi space for 9 people to Kochkor. Vans usually hold 8 people, and taxis usually hold 4. Taxi space for nine people was going to mean an extra car, at extra expense for everybody involved.

Luckily, at this point N came out and said she’d found someone with a 12-seater van who was willing to drive us to Kochkor for 466som/person. I admit I was relived. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure the driver of this van had never been out of Bishkek before. Not only did he not know how to handle the winding mountain roads, but he didn’t know where Kochkor was! On all my previous trips to Kochkor, it’s taken between two to three hours to get there. This guy crept along at a snail's pace, constantly stopping to ask directions (not listening to me try to give him directions, even though *I* know how to get to Kochkor), and it took us a full four and a half hours to get to Kochkor.

At this point I should back up and say that about fifteen minutes after we left the school, the Person Whom We Dislike realized that he’d left his receipt for his homestay in his apartment and didn’t know the address of where he needed to go. I told the driver that he had forgotten something important and needed to go back, but the driver refused to go back. He said that if we turned back after starting our journey, we would have bad luck on the road and simply refused to stop. Of course the Person was getting quite upset. I dialed CBT on my cell and handed it to him. CBT ended up talking to the driver and telling him the address in Kochkor where we would need to go. It turned out that he was staying at 27 Omuraliev Mambetsadyk, which was just a stone’s throw from where we were staying at 32 Omuraliev Mambetsadyk. Or at least that was the plan.

We arrived in Kochkor at 1:30am, which was much later than expected. Of course when we got to the village, the driver had to ask directions to 27 Omuraliev Mambetsadyk, and someone showed us the way to the street. There was one house on the street with lights shining and doors open, so he drove there. It turned out to be #32, where our hosts were up waiting for the 8 of us. I told the Person that his homestay was just down the street (which it was, dammit), but he refused to go there! He said he didn’t “want to wander about in the dark” and he would just stay with us. I pointed out that our homestay only had 8 beds, that they were only expecting 8 people, and that the people at *his* homestay were probably waiting up for him. He shrugged all this off, tossed his stuff on a bed (!) and then essentially demanded that our hosts make him tea, despite the late hour.

He went off to drink tea and left the rest of us fuming. Luckily one of the 8 beds was a double bed, and with T and L being a couple it ended up not being a problem, but still! Of course, in the morning, the Person said that he’d paid in advance for his homestay, so he refused to pay. Who knows whether or not he had actually paid. Our host was gracious and said that she’d simply ask CBT to give her the money – although as he hadn’t reserved a room at her place, I’m worried she won’t get it.

Anyway, we got up a little before 7am, had breakfast and made our way to the CBT office in Kochkor, where we were to catch the bus to the festival. The place was overrun with foreign tourists. I swear every foreign tourist in Kyrgyzstan was there! I generally detest spending time in large groups of tourists, so this discovery did little to improve my mood.

We loaded into several buses and were driven about an hour and a half north of Kochkor into a high-altitude jailoo known as Sarala-Saz. We approached the jailoo, and I noticed that while the place was crawling with tourists, there weren’t all that many Kyrgyz about, and my heart began to sink. It should have occurred to me. See, here in Kyrgyzstan, people have a tendency to use the word “national” in the way that I would normally use the word “traditional.” (ex: Bullfighting is the national sport of Spain. Kilts are the national costume of Scotland.) It’s not exactly incorrect, but it does leave a certain ambiguity. We had been expecting the National Horse Games Festival to be a *national* event, with people from all over the country coming to participate. (People do still play these horse games, so it could have happened…) Instead, the moniker Traditional Horse Games Festival might have been more appropriate; it was essentially a demonstration of traditional Kyrgyz horse games, put on for tourists by CBT. It was okay, but not at all what I had expected. And not worth the trouble we went through getting there. Or the fact that the Person stuck to our group like glue the whole day.

I did get some decent photos:

The Sarala-Saz jailoo where the festival was held was gorgeous, and we were lucky that the weather was as well.

The first exhibition of the day was Kurosh, traditional Kyrgyz wrestling.

Then came Oodarysh, wrestling on horseback. The goal is to knock your opponent from his horse.

Next was Tyiyn Enmey (of which I got my best shots of the day). Traditionally, men pick up a coin from the ground while on horseback at a gallop. These guys used paper.

And lastly, Ulak-tartysh, dead goat polo. It was difficult to get shots showing the goat as it was dark like the horses. That fuzzy thing hanging off the black horse is the goat.

Just as rain clouds began to make their way over the mountaintops, we boarded our bus back to Kochkor.

On our way back from Kochkor to Bishkek, K, M, and I shared a taxi for 250soms/person which took only 2 hours 15 minutes to make it from the Kochkor bus station to our apartment building. Yeah.

In which I go to Kochkor and get ridiculously sunburnt

April 29, 2008

This week is our Spring Break, and as such, most of us are going on various travels around Kyrgyzstan. I had planned to spend three days in Kochkor, wandering about, trying to find and ride Bitchy Horse. K’s friend C flew in from Germany on Thursday, and soon they, plus Young B and M, had decided to join me in Kochkor. I was the only one who spent two nights in Kochkor; B and M returned to Bishkek on Sunday afternoon, and K and C set off for Karakol on Sunday morning. I returned to Bishkek on Monday afternoon. That’s the short version. Here’s the long one:

We left for the Zapodny Avtovokzal (the western bus station) at around 9am on Saturday morning, and less than five minutes into our taxi ride, I began to feel carsick. This happens to me quite often, although very rarely does it occur so quickly and when I am sitting in the front passenger seat. By the time we got to the bus station, I was pretty convinced I was going to vomit, although I didn’t. We managed to negotiate a somewhat overpriced van to take the five of us to Kochkor, and I again snagged the front seat. Unfortunately, the driver had the worst bad breath of anyone I’d ever met, which did nothing to help my nausea. Luckily, I was somehow able to will myself into sleep and managed to keep from being violently ill. However, when we arrived in Kochkor, I was still feeling pretty ill. Unfortunately, K wasn’t doing well either, as she was in the beginning stages of a migraine. B was feeling a little carsick, too. We weren’t the healthiest bunch when we wandered into the Kochkor CBT office.

Kochkor CBT manages a store where shyrdaks – traditional Kyrgyz felt rugs – made by local women are sold. (It’s where I bought my shyrdak on my way back from Naryn.)

Shyrdaks!

M’s reason for coming to Kochkor had been to purchase a shyrdak, and he and C spent quite a bit of time in the store trying to decide on which shyrdaks to purchase. We all made purchases, actually. I bought an incredibly awesome wool-felt hat in which I look like a Mongol warrior. Or a crazy person. I need to get a photo of it.

After purchasing our various felt items, we headed for our homestay, also arranged through CBT. I *love* CBT, although I must say that their map of Kochkor leaves a bit to be desired, and we got a bit lost on our way to our homestay. Luckily, we ran across three schoolboys who seemed utterly thrilled to have to opportunity to guide us to our destination.

The day was absolutely beautiful, and we were eager to enjoy the countryside outside of the small town. After settling into our homestay and picnicking on the plethora of food we’d dragged along from Bishkek, we decided to take a walk to the river just north of town. First we found what was almost a perfect spot: a freshwater spring, bubbling up from the earth, feeding a stream which flowed north towards the river. (In fact, quite a large area of the earth seemed to be leaching freshwater.) Unfortunately, much of this area was polluted with garbage. We did find a mostly trash-free spot to sit and relax for a while before continuing our trek to the river.

The places without trash were beautiful.

I wish I could turn this area into a park... Or at least keep it clean.

We all got a bit muddy wandering through the mucky swamp-like ground approaching the river, but the views were definitely worth it.

Looking south towards Kochkor

The Chuy river north of Kochkor

As we were sitting by the river enjoying the view, we were approached by a group of boys... a couple ran away to fetch their friends, and soon we were surrounded by a group of about 10 or so boys, who were all eager to show off for us.

Eventually we decided to head back to the homestay. This meant hiking back across the bizarrely contoured field/swamp/spring land which separates Kochkor from the river. This also meant many more opportunities for photos.

Back in Kochkor proper, I got quite a few more photos as well:

Ubiquitous Lenin.

I love this shot.

That night we had dinner at our homestay (it cost 150soms, and was definitely worth it), then went to bed pretty early. The next day, after spending a good chunk of the morning taking pictures and playing with our host family’s children, K and C set off for Karakol, B and M returned to Bishkek, and I met up with Maksat, the horse-guide, and set off for the nearby village of Kara-Suu.

The homestay family's daughter

Kara-Suu, located just outside of Kochkor,
is the village where my horse-ride began.

Maksat remembered me, and he remembered the whole situation with J falling off her horse, switching with me, and the fact that I’d named it Bitchy Horse. What he didn’t remember was which horse was Bitchy Horse or where they’d gotten it from. So, alas, no Bitchy Horse. The horse I got wasn’t a bad horse; it was well behaved, but lazy. I could only get it to canter when we were headed for home :-) We rode for several hours – yet again the weather was perfect. We headed across farmland and up into the foothills, following a mountain stream. I didn’t take too many pictures, as horseback photography is difficult. I did get several, as shown below.

Horse cam!

My horse of the day

These damn straps used to keep the blankets on the saddle bruised the hell out of my inner thighs :-(

The views were wonderful

After returning to the homestay following my ride, I was utterly exhausted, and feeling the initial pains of a sunburn. I did as I often do, and I took a nice three hour nap to recuperate. I awoke feeling refreshed and yet in quite a lot of pain. I took a look in the mirror and saw an Annie-shaped lobster. This is probably the worst sunburn I’ve had since high school – and of course, it comes in the form of a farmer’s tan/burn. Sigh. I hurt.

Hi, I'm Farmer-Lobster!

Despite being burnt, I figured I should spend the last few hours of daylight wandering about the town. I didn’t take too many pictures, but I did get some interesting ones of the mosque and an abandoned former gas station.

Kochkor Mosque

I love derelict gas stations.

That evening I realized that I’d spent the bulk of my food money on the super awesome Mongol warrior hat. I told my hosts that I wouldn’t be needing dinner that night, and planned to spend the evening reading and snacking on the cheese and chocolate which I’d brought from Bishkek. Around 9pm, the teenage daughter of the family brought me a plate of beshbarmak (a traditional Kyrgyz dish of large noodles and mutton) and said that it was a gift from the family. The next morning I was invited to have breakfast with the family, instead of alone in my room. They were all incredibly nice people, and I was quite grateful to be able to eat!

After breakfast, I made my way to the center of Kochkor, and snagged a spot in a marshrutka headed for Bishkek. It was a lovely weekend, even if I thoroughly fried my skin. I’ll be heading for Karakol with Young B, K, and SB from the American Home in Vladimir on Thursday morning for the second leg of my vacation!