TravBuddy.com: Travel Blogs and Reviews

Out and About, and Some Russian Films

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 04:08:50 PST

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan>, Jun 18, 2005

All quiet in Bishkek today, but walking past the White House we saw water-cannon at strategic places ready to quell unrest at the first sign of trouble. I had always imagined water-cannon to be quite small - like bits of artillery in the Crimean War - but these were bright red and the size of a tank. They must use vast quantities of water - not that Bishkek is short of that - and I would very much not want to be caught in front of one going at full blast. We also saw some incredibly battered old buses that, Irina thought, had been used to ferry protesters in from the surrounding countryside, which is where a lot of the unrest originated.

The day was searingly hot, with temperatures well into the nineties, so I bought a cup of maksym, one of the refreshing drinks that are available from roadside sellers. It is a traditonal Kyrgyz beverage made from wheat, but factory-produced by the Shoro company, and is always fresh as it is delivered in drums to the sellers early in the morning. In fact it is impossible to go more than a couple of hundred yards in Bishkek without encountering a cheerful Shoro girl in a crisp blue-and-white uniform sitting under a big umbrella and serving maksym for a few som; although whether the main attraction is the maksym or the cheerful girl I am none too sure. There are water-sellers also, but these should be avoided by the foreigner as the water is dispensed from dirty old machines in glasses that are re-used and cleaned between customers with a horrid little mechanical rotating brush. What a bacteriology test would show I dread to think, and the water should be left for locals whose stomachs are inured to it. However, maksym and the other branded drinks are perfectly safe.

On our way home we took a diversion to Ataturk Park, a pleasaunce near home dedicated to Kamil Ataturk, the founder of modern Turkey. The park is a little on the wild side, offering agreeable walks in field and wood; and there is also, rather unexpectedly, a modest fun-fair - I chickened-out of having a ride on anything, fearing mechanical failure. And so home, to more DVDs of Soviet-era films.

I had never before seen any Russian films from this period, and I was amazed at how subversive and funny some of them were. Carnival Night, produced in 1956 - only a few years after the death of Stalin - was an astonishing achievement. At that time there were huge industrial and commercial combines that employed tens of thousands of workers, and provided all the social facilties that they and their families needed. The film, set in such a combine, deals with the Christmas entertainment being planned by the Theatre Club. At the last moment they have foisted on them a new administrator who is horrified by the levity of the proposed show, and is determined to replace it with a serious celebration of the year's work and the workers' meeting of their production targets. Naturally, the performers have no intention of allowing him to sabotage their carefully planned and rehearsed entertainment, and the film shows their hilarious and ultimately successful attempts to thwart him. What is so surprising is that, at the height of the cold war, a film could be made and distributed that mocked such essential ingredients of the Soviet system as central planning and the army of faceless bureaucrats who faithfully carried out orders from above, however ridiculous. It was hugely popular, and deservedly so.

Another film, this time from 1975 and from the same director - Eldar Ryazanov - is so beloved by Russians that it is now traditionally watched every New Year's Eve in millions of homes, but it too mocks an important aspect of Soviet life. Irony of Fate begins in Moscow on New Year's Eve with a group of friends, two of whom pass out through drink. The other friends know that one of them should be travelling to Leningrad, but which one? They guess wrong, and put the wrong guy on a plane - he should have been going back to his Moscow apartment, where his fiancee is preparing a special New Year's Eve meal. The central joke of the film is that all Soviet cities, being centrally planned, look the same; so when the guy staggers off the plane, with no memory of what has happened, he does not realise that he is not in Moscow. He falls into a taxi, gives his street name: there is such a street in Leningrad, just as there is in Moscow. All the apartment blocks look the same: when he gets to the address he cannot tell that he has not arrived home; his key even turns the lock of the apartment's front door. The apartment is empty, but looks identical to his own: he passes out on the bed in a drunken stupor. Then the apartment's real occupant, an attractive young woman, arrives home, and - to cut a long story short - romance develops. It would all be funny and charming, were it not for the undercurrent of - in my view - cruelty in the treatment of the guy's fiancee back in Moscow, who becomes increasingly despairing as her beloved fails to show up: she is forced to spend New Year's Eve alone, after she has worked so hard to make a perfect celebration for the two of them. Apparently for Russians this aspect of the story just adds to the fun - Irina couldn't understand what I was upset about - whereas it really spoilt the film for me: I just wanted the guy to die a horrible death for treating his lovely fiancee so badly, whereas he finishes up happy in the arms of his new girlfriend, and we are all supposed to cheer.

Other Soviet era films were - astonishingly - an excellent production of Twelfth Night (in Russian, of course), a very funny version of that great old Victorian farce Charley's Aunt, and some episodes from a Sherlock Holmes series that was hugely successful on Soviet television in the 1970s and 1980s: in fact, Irina proved to be an unlikely repository of Sherlock Holmes trivia in consequence. My enjoyment of all these films was only made possible by her skill as a translator, giving just sufficient information to allow the plot to be followed, but not so much as to interrupt the narrative.

Trouble in Bishkek, Part II

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 04:01:06 PST

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan>, Jun 17, 2005

The day after we returned from Issyk-Kul was for me a day of rest and recuperation. Although I was quite recovered from my ... ahem ... indisposition, I felt pretty drained. So after breakfast Irina and I just wandered down to the centre of Bishkek to visit Bishkek's biggest store, variously transliterated as Tsum or Zum. It is described as a department store, but is rather different from Debenhams! Spread over three floors, it consists of a large number of what appear to be independent concessions, all operating under one roof - indeed, although dedicated to household goods, clothes and electronics rather than food and groceries it was in atmosphere not unlike a rather genteel bazaar. Although there were many bargains, I was surprised at how expensive some things were - an SD memory card for my camera, for example, which had cost about £20 in London was selling for over 6,000 som - that's nearly £100. Batteries, too, and electronic items generally were very costly, and clearly some of the things that we take now take for granted as being within everyone's reach, such as digital cameras and mobile phones, involved spending serious money. I bought a CD of traditional Russian music, but unfortunately it doesn't play on any player that I've tried - maybe it's an incompatible format, or perhaps it's a pirated version, although I never intended to buy anything other than the genuine article. Tsum had one innovation which I rather liked: at the top of each escalator sat a security woman of fearsome aspect, looking out for possible troublemakers. It made you feel like a transgressor, just to find yourself under such an unforgiving gaze!

Then we visited once again the American University, as Irina needed to speak with her professor. Afterwards we had tea in the cafeteria, and that was the only time that I saw teen notes in use. The basic unit of currency is the som, of which there are about seventy to the pound sterling; but there is a smaller unit, the teen, with one hundred teen to the som - so the teen is a very small unit indeed, and rarely met with. However, calculations involving student discounts meant that I received some teen as change, and so had a chance to handle dinky little banknotes that are worth just fractions of a penny! Kyrgyzstan has no coinage, as it would have been too expensive to mint.

On our way back we heard in the distance the sound of shouting and police sirens, and looking west towards Panfilov Park we saw what appeared to be a large and angry mob. I have already mentioned that, a few weeks before my arrival in Bishkek, there had been a revolution in which the President was driven from office, with much attendant arson, looting and general civil unrest. Naturally, the prospect of witnessing a genuine riot was very attractive, and I wanted to make a sortie to see what was going on and take some pictures; but Irina, who had lived through the earlier episodes and had no wish to repeat the experience - and who understood, also, the likely reaction of the police to a foreigner taking phtographs - insisted, no doubt wisely, that we should head straight home, which we did. On the way we saw shopkeepers boarding up their premises and removing stock, mindful of the travails of only a few weeks before. Once safely home, we spent the rest of the day in the cool and watching some DVDs, of which more anon.

That evening, though, was to bring disappointing news concerning two further expeditions that we had planned. We had intended to spend the weekend in Almaty, the principal city of Kazakhstan, which is only about fifty miles from Bishkek. We also expected to go on an overnight trip with Dmitri and Natalie to a spot the precise merits of which were slightly unclear but which was, I was assured, well worth visiting. However, the renewed civil unrest meant that both of these plans were scuppered. The Kazakhstan trip was problematic because the authorities tended to close the border without warning at such times, with the result that we could have been stranded in Almaty for an indefinite period; this had already happened to Irina's father. And the trip with Dmitri and Natalie was cancelled because he was in the Army, and his services were immediately required. So the remaining few days of my stay were spent in and around Bishkek - which was no hardship as far as I was concerned, as it gave me the opportunity of witnessing more aspects of everyday life there.

Caravanesari

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 04:30:25 PST

Tash Rabat, Kyrgyzstan>, Jul 01, 2008

People i met here who contributed to, and improved my trip: Julia (Russia), Aviad (Israel)

We met Aviad at 08.00 and went down to the hotel reception, where Dzhumabek was waiting for us with his taxi. It had been arranged that we would pay 1600 Som ($44.50) to hire the car for the day and this would include a stop at Tash Rabat and Koshoy Korgon. First port of call would however be the petrol station, as Dzhumabek wanted to set off with a full tank.

We pulled into a service station after about five minutes of the journey, at which point Dzhumabek turned to us and said that as we were three, we had to pay 800 Som each. The previous day when we had arranged the price, there had been three of us in the car, so he had not known how many people would be going and anyway, we had paid for the car, not by the seat. Julia explained this to him and he said he would no longer take us for 1600, so we told him to just drop us back at the hotel. A few seconds to think this over and he agreed to take us for the 1600 Som again. Boy i hate taxi drivers!

The journey took two and a half hours, including a brief stop for some breakfast at a cafe, which was full of Chinese truck drivers. Aviad managed to forget his bag here, which contained his guide book and hat, and he also couldn't figure out where his passport was. As he only noticed this when he got out of the taxi at Tash Rabat, there was nothing to be done, other than call into the cafe on the way home and hope for the best.

Tash Rabat was built in the 15^th Century, although some say it dates back as far as the 10^th Century and served as a fortified caravanserai on the Silk Road. Its shape resembles what you may associate with a mosque, but some argue its original function was that of a Christian Monastery. Set in a pretty valley, it now has some yurts for company, which enhance the locations scenery... unlike the ugly fly infested toilets!

The three of us spent around an hour at the site, first walking through the chilly stone corridors and exploring the little enclaves, nooks and niches. Once we had taken a good gander from within, we went to get a grander perspective of the area, by clambering up mountains on opposite sides of the valley. It was an impressive spectacle, but not a site that I'd recommend anyone travelling out of their way to see.

The ride home passed plenty of gophers, all of whom were dashing for cover, at the site of our car speeding along the gravel road. After about an hour, we stopped off at Koshoy Korgon, a ruined citadel that had been inhabited from the 10^th to 12^th centuries. Like Tash Rabat, it commanded a 50 Som ($1.38) entrance fee, which Julia again got for a discounted 10 Som, as she was Russian.

Not much is left today, except some crumbling walls, a lot of flies and stunning scenery as a backdrop. Having little information on the site, it was hard to imagine what had once stood here, and sadly the curator of the museum was nowhere to be seen. That makes me wonder who the guy was taking the entrance money from us! On the way back to Naryn, we stopped at the cafe and the waitress had kindly put Aviad's bag behind the counter, so the journey ended on a high note.

Kyrgyzstan

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 14:44:12 PST

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan>, Jul 17, 2008

What a friggin’ beautiful place, once you get outside the cities. Took a long drive alongside this huge lake that reminded me of Balaton in Hungary (ok, ok, I realize the comparison doesn’t mean all that much to you, but just go with it). Parts of the landscape reminded me of Tahoe, others of Switzerland. In some places the pines were still green, in others they were covered with snow. And other parts would give New England a run for fall foliage. Remember that poem you read as a kid, about how you’ll never see something as (something) as a tree? (Okay, I was a kid a long time ago, I’m just happy to remember that much.) I seem to know it’s unintended sequel by Ogden Nash better:

I think that I shall never see

A billboard lovely as a tree

Indeed, unless the billboards fall

I’ll never see a tree at all.

Spent the night in a yurt, which is a round hut with a hole in the middle of the roof to let the smoke out, but the thing was warm enough not to need a fire. Had the yurt all to myself, which inspired me to think that any place in the world can be romantic. . . well, not alone, obviously, but you don’t need a giant erector set in Paris or even a huge beautiful mausoleum in India to feel romantic.

Or maybe I’m just fuckin’ lonely. . .

Altyn Arashan

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 03:55:18 PST

Altyn Arashan, Kyrgyzstan>, Jun 24, 2008

People i met here who contributed to and improved my trip: Julia (Russia)

On Tuesday morning we caught Minibus 350 (20Som/$0.55) from Ak Tilek Bazaar, which took us from Karakol to the turn off to Altyn Arashan. The weather was quite pleasant, although after been caught out in the rain the previous day, we had come equipped with some warm clothing and waterproof attire, to cover all eventualities.

The walk began steadily enough, following a stream up into the valley along a four wheel drive trail. Our first contact with civilisation came when a small rosy cheeked Kyrgyz boy approached us with an open outstretched hand, saying 'Dai, Dai, Dai', which translates as “give, give, give”. We tried smiling and saying no several times, but the little bugger kept persisting. Five minutes passed and only two different words came from his mouth amidst all the “Dai's”, which were “chut chut”, and “hleb”, which mean “a little” and “bread”. The child had fatter cheeks than Julia, which is saying something, so there was no way we were giving away what little food we had with us.

The path continued to snake upwards, passing mountains covered with fir trees and the occasional grazing cow. The further into the valley we went, the gloomier the weather became, until eventually we heard a clap of thunder and saw a flash of lightening. It didn't take long for the first drops of rain to fall, so we found some shelter under the trees. For fifteen minutes there was a torrential storm, with hailstones the size of peas hammering down from above. I was glad we had some protection both under the trees and from our raincoats.

Thankfully the storm soon blew over, although the gloom didn't lift and we were aware that it could turn bad again at any minute. Looking into the grey sky above, we spotted two birds of prey circling overhead, but they left after some time, probably to find some nicer weather! The only other form of life that we saw at this time was a few guys riding their horses, all of whom offered a polite nod of the head as they passed us by.

Our next encounter with animals came when we rounded a corner and stumbled upon a flock of sheep blocking the path. A woman and her two small children were on horseback, trying to move the sheep along, with the aid of one man who was on foot. Three sheep in particular were stubbornly trying to stay put, including a black sheep, which was living up to its stereotype! Eventually the man lost his patience and with a combination of a stick to the legs, a foot to the backside and a kick to the ribs, which temporarily knocked one of the stunned sheep over, they finally got them moving along the path, and back with the rest of the flock.

Four and a half hours after setting off, we got our first glimpse of Altyn Arashan, located in a basin and surrounded by mountains on all sides, with a river gushing besides. Looming in the background was the incredibly impressive snow covered Palatka mountain, which resembles a tent in shape. Palatka in Russian actually means tent, so the name in this instance really was quite fitting.

The community of Altyn Arashan consists of a few houses and yurts, and this would be our home for the next few days. We settled into Yak Hostel, a spin off from the one in Karakol and were shown to a snug double room, where the comfortable beds cost 200 Som ($5.55) per person. I couldn't really figure out why it was cheaper to stay here than in Karakol, when the location was idyllic and the room just as nice. Then again, maybe the lack of anywhere to wash and an outside squat toilet could account for the price difference!

After dumping our bags in the room, we went and sat in the communal living area, which had a log fire and nice wooden furniture. The female chef brought us some warm tea and cherry jam and shortly afterwards a group of four Israeli trekkers joined us. Valentin the owner brought out some honey liquor, which the six of us polished off in no time, and then Julia and I went to relax in our room.

In the evening we sat around the fire, ate some food that we had brought along with us and enjoyed the peaceful surroundings. I was a little disappointed that we had brought our own food, as a family of Russians had also arrived, so it would have probably been good to eat as one big group. The food was quite expensive though, about double what you normally pay, and as we were staying a few days, there was plenty more opportunity to eat the home cooked cuisine. It had been a fairly long day and Julia wasn't feeling too great again, so we called it a night just before 23.00.

The next morning we awoke at 06.45 and went downstairs for breakfast, where 100 Som ($2.80) bought us some soup with bread and a pancake with a bit of salad and either tea or coffee. Although it wasn't cheap, i thought it was a reasonable price due to our location, so opted to buy their packed lunch to take out for the day. Julia had just proceeded to vomit all of her breakfast up (still suffering from food poisoning), so told the owner Valentin to pack her left overs with my lunch, as she couldn't possibly go hiking. I was therefore annoyed to find that my 150 Som ($4.15) lunch was Julia's left overs plus a bottle of coke. When i complained, he put in one extra tiny pancake and made out that i was unhappy for no reason! At this point i made a promise that i wouldn't be spending one more penny on their food, if they were going to pull a stunt like that.

The day ahead was going to be a long one, as i planned to hike up to Ala Kol Lake and then back down again, so the last thing i needed was to remember after 5 minutes that i didn't have my spare camera battery with me, and thus i had to return to camp. Setting off for the second time, the path soon branched off up a mountain to the East, but this didn't make much sense, as Valentin had told me i should be following the river South, but also the path. Thankfully there was a German guy nearby who had done the trip with a guide the previous day and he was able to give me some clearer directions. I was beginning to understand now why most people took guides.

The weather was already sunny and getting hotter by the minute, but the walk itself began quite gently, with the exception of some muddy wet patches, which had left my feet soaked. Plenty of grazing cows chewed the cud at the base of the towering mountains and the view of the far off snow covered Pik Palatka became steadily more impressive, as i advanced on my journey. Amongst such tranquility, i could have hardly expected what was to happen next.

I have always admired the men that dare step into the narrow streets of the town of Pamplona in Spain, to participate in the annual 'Running of the Bulls' and i have half considered that one day i may give this a go myself. Following todays escapades, i think I'd rather wrestle a grizzly bear.

As i strolled along, minding my own business, i noticed a bull in the distance that seemed to have taken an interest in me and had begun to wander in my direction. This didn't overly concern me, until it started making noises that sounded like it had severe constipation. At this point i decided that the sensible option was to up the pace a little and thus not agitate it, in the probability that i was on its turf, and it just wanted me to go away. The bulls response was to break into a gentle trot and at this moment i felt the first pangs of terror.

I'm not sure how fast i can run, but its a shame the Olympic committee wasn't there to witness my 100m performance, otherwise i could have found myself on a plane to Beijing this summer. The problem is, bulls are no mean athletes either, especially when they see some silly little white guy providing them with something to chase. My heart was in my mouth as i dashed across the field, but the question had sprung into my mind, “where the hell am i running to!?” I could hear the thuds of hoof on turf, progressively getting louder, why hadn't i been to Church recently!?

I was left the following choices, option a) was to become a matador and do my best to face the frenzied beast, perform some intricate dancing pattern that would see it fly past and then re-evaluate my options, but did i really fancy my chances of ducking out of the way of a piercing horn at the last millisecond? Option b) was to fight the bull, but my trusty pen knife surely couldn't bring it down, where was my sword when i needed it? Option c) as far as i knew was quite an untried theory and one that i had little confidence in working, but i had to try something, so i punched in option c) into my brain and this is how my body responded.

With the bull closing in fast, i turned, raised my hands and screamed as loud as i could. I recalled having once watched a program on TV, which said that if you were confronted by a bear, you should make yourself look as big as possible, then quietly back away. I knew a bull and a bear were two completely different creatures, but my train of thought was that maybe by appearing bigger, the bull would think twice before goring me. Why i was screaming like a mad man, i can only attribute to sheer panic, but combining the two together, this incredibly worked. 400 Kilo's of beef came skidding to a halt about five metres away, with a confused, angry look on its face.

It took a second for both of us to register what had just happened and the bull to recognise what a big sissy it must have looked to back down to a comparatively small creature like myself. My split second triumph was soon to disappear, as the bull began huffing through its nose and scratching its front right leg, it didn't take much understanding to spot that this meant trouble!

I backed away slowly until i found a patch of large rocks on the floor and picked a couple up. The bull kept advancing, so the first stone got thrown just to the side of its head, but this made no effect. The bull shadowed my every move and when the second stone whistled just past its head, it became even more aggravated, so i decided that this technique wasn't the way of avoiding an attack.

After what seemed like an eternity of trying to inch away, only for it to follow me, there appeared a small ridge, with some fir trees and a large boulder. As we walked towards this, i slowly dropped down the ridge and it kept its standard distance, which gave me the chance to duck behind the boulder, cut into the trees and then run hell for leather. I vividly remember two horses stood nearby looking at what was happening and God only knows what they must of made of it!

50m at full pelt and i reached the fast flowing river, but there was nowhere to go other than along the embankment. 20m further, this river combined with another river that was flowing down from the mountains, forming a T-junction. My only choice was to race up the mountain besides this river, until i reached a crossing that was made from two fallen trees. With little hesitation i darted across the logs and up the embankment on the far side. I had visions of a confused looking bull, peering around the boulder by the ridge, becoming extremely pissed off to see that i was no longer there and storming around the field in search of me. I hid behind some trees trying to catch my breath, outrunning a bull at 2800m (9250ft) is no mean feet!

The mountain rose sharply into the valley and i knew that this was the rough direction that i should be heading in, even though i wasn't able to pick up any path. My head was spinning with thoughts of what could have just happened (and probably mild altitude sickness), so not picking up the trail that i was supposed to be on, seemed rather trivial. Ten minutes later i finally spotted a faint trail that led up to the main path and i just followed this as far as it went up the mountain.

Valentin had mentioned a small tent that was in the valley, and i noticed this across the river after nearly two hours of walking, but i couldn't remember why this had been important. I did know that it had some bearing on the direction that i needed to take, but amidst all the excitement, my mind had gone blank. I made my mind up to cross the river on the stones and put my basic Russian skills to the test. The sheep farmer inside the tent came out, surprisingly understood my questions and gave me some simple directions. I was pleased and slightly shocked that my language capabilities had reached such an understandable pigeon level!

The next two hours of the journey became increasingly difficult as i had several factors to deal with. The first issue was that the trail was constantly uphill, the second was the high altitude and the third was the cows! I've never come across such aggressive bovines as these in Kyrgyzstan, which clearly have a major chip on their shoulder! Every time i seemed to approach a herd, which were always grazing by the trail, one would come to the edge of the group and eye me up with keen intent. I had no desire to push my luck and would as a result take a wide path around, which was adding to the distance of my journey. I began to feel like i was becoming overly paranoid, until another bull that must have been a good 400m away started charging in my direction. Thankfully it halted its progress when it saw that i was trying my damnedest to scramble up the side of a hill!

I reached the foot of the Ala Kol pass four hours after setting off and i was left physically and mentally drained. I felt like i had run the gauntlet and had only just made it half way. What stood in front of me now was a mountain that had incredibly steep faces, which were made out of small stones at the base and large rocks at the top. I tried to pick a route up, but there was nothing obvious, and i wasn't really sure where the lake was actually situated.

The bottom half of the mountain was incredibly tough going, as the stones slipped beneath my feet and for each step up, I slid half a step back. Every 10 metres that i managed to inch my way up, i had to dig myself into the gravel and rest, gasping for breath. By the time i reached the half way point, my legs were burning and my heart was racing. The second section on the larger rocks was a tiny bit better, but by this stage i was shattered, so it was still slow going. An hour after beginning the final ascent, i reached the summit of the 3860m Ala Kol pass.

The views below were stunning, with Ala Kol Lake hemmed in by mountains on all four sides. Turning to look back at where i had come from, i not only got a jaw dropping view into the valley, but also unbeatable views of the snow capped mountain range that towered on the horizon and could only be seen from an equally high altitude. Nearby was one huge snow covered mountain, from where the water was running down, to create the lake. It had been a tough ordeal to make it there, but as i sat in complete solitude, with the first spots of snow falling on me, i was in no doubt that every last step had been worth it. Its not often in this World that you can enjoy such a moment with only yourself for company.

I ate some lunch and drank the last of my drink on the top of the mountain, which i knew wasn't good. I had no water purification tablets, so understood that the next hours were going to be tough going, with only saliva to quench my thirst. The weather had clouded over 45 minutes before i had reached the top, but after 30 minutes of waiting for some improvement and blue sky, i decided i couldn't wait any longer and i started my descent.

Going down is always easier on the heart, but i often find it technically harder and a real drain on your limbs. Descending the first section of the pass was tricky, as the bigger stones could slip from behind your trailing leg and crash into the lead leg and this culminated in my ankles getting pretty badly bashed and cut. The second half was more like skiing, as i stood on the loose gravel and let it take me down the mountain. The main problem here was a foot getting stuck and also falling over.

It took 20 minutes to come down the pass and once i made it to the grassy section, it began to drizzle. The rain made the surface very slippery and it wasn't long before i fell pretty heavily on my left arm, getting a deep cut on my palm, wrist and forearm. I would have given anything to be taken home on a horse at this point, but i was the only person for miles around.

The descent was far quicker than going up, although i was still having endless problems with my four legged nemesis. I made a mental note to eat as many hamburgers as i could physically manage at the next possible opportunity! Thankfully there were some more friendly animals, which were the gophers, who kept popping out of their holes and shouting to their neighbours to watch out for the weird creature approaching in his yellow poncho!

Three hours after leaving the pass, i found myself back where the two rivers converged and nervously eyed the opposite embankment for signs of the angry bull. I decided that there was no way i was taking the marked path that led up through the forest, where I'd had my first run in, but would instead try and find a route alongside the river. This worked out pretty well, until i spotted a man made rickety bridge and decided to chance my luck on it, with the knowledge that if i made it across in one piece, i was out of harms way from the bull! On all fours i progressed over the river and safely on the opposite side, i was sure that my journey was as good as over.

What i didn't expect was to have to walk across a marsh and then find another river coming from the opposite mountain range and blocking my path. There was no bridge here, the water was incredibly fast flowing and the rocks slippery and most of them subsided in the water. I felt drained and didn't fancy having to return back across the marsh, the bridge and take the route where the bull was lying in wait, so when i saw a log that stretched somewhat out into the river, i knew this was my only hope (see photo). I balanced on the single log, as water gushed against it and once i reached its slippery end, i made a jump for a rock, which i just landed on and managed to spring onto the bank from there.

Ten minutes later and i was back in the room and collapsed on my bed. Julia got me a much needed bottle of water and some re-hydration salts and after guzzling these down i slept for some time. It had taken me just over 9 hours to make the return trip, which turned out to be good going, as two guys from Kyrgyzstan had supposedly taken 14 hours to complete it, including two and a half hours to reach the top of the pass! Julia and I spent the rest of the night lying in bed, both feeling worse for wear, until we went to sleep just after 22.00.

Our original plan was to wake up early on Thursday morning, but neither of us were in any fit state to get up when the alarm went off at 07.30. A little after 09.00 we begrudgingly began to wake from our slumber and by 10.00 we were back on the road again. I was pleased that i had no cramps from all the walking over the previous two days, and the fine weather added to my spirits.

It took around three and a half hours to reach the main road, from where we flagged down a minivan for the journey back to Karakol. It had been an emotional three days that had left me invigorated, inspired, scared and breathless in all respects. Part of me wanted to stay in the mountains for days, whereas the saner part of my mind was telling me to find a sit down toilet and running water!

Kazarman

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 03:43:33 PST

Kazarman, Kyrgyzstan>, Jul 02, 2008

People i met here who contributed to and improved my trip: Julia (Russia), Sigrid (Belgium)

The mining town of Kazarman has little to interest the passing tourist, but normally serves as a stopping point on the road to Jalal Abad, some 140km further West. The Lousy Planet contained very little info on the town, so the three of us decided that it would probably be best to head the the house of the co-coordinator of the CBT and seek advice on accommodation.

Our driver waited until the woman turned up and then bade farewell. He had been a like able bloke, who had even bought us some drinks along the way, so it made me feel much better to be handing over 3000 Som ($83) to someone who had a decent character, unlike almost every other taxi shark in Naryn.

The CBT coordinator obviously saw the dollar signs before her eyes, when she introduced herself to us. Her opening price for a room was 450 Som ($12.50), but Julia and I explained we literally only had 600 Som ($16.50) left between us and this was all we could offer her for our room. There hadn't been an ATM in the last three places we had visited and I had already exchanged all my dollars into Som and spent them, so this was genuinely the money we were left with. After a moments thought, she agreed to let us stay for that price.

The room we were shown to was actually very nice, and the outside toilet and shower were clean and usable. Once we had settled in, Sigrid ordered Dinner from the woman, whilst Julia and I made do with some instant noodles and instant potatoes that we had in our bags, left over from our trip to Kol Ukok. In the end this turned out to be a stroke of luck as Sigrids meal cost an extortionate 150 Som ($4.15) and gave her food poisoning!

The three of us sat around the dining table for the remainder of the evening, swapping travel stories and advice and planning our trip on the Pamir Highway in Tajikistan. It was nearly 01.00 when we went off to bed, as we became aware that we had an early start the following morning.

Our 300 Som not only paid for our bed, but also breakfast the following morning • for what it was worth. A sorry looking porridge was brought to us, which was not only watery, but had a layer of fat floating on the top of it. The three of us took tentative mouthfuls before sliding it away into the middle of the table. A pot of tea was next to be sampled, but this was incredibly weak, presumably the tea leaves from last night had been re used. Last on the menu to try was some hard black bread, but after a nibble on this, the three of us decided going hungry was preferable to eating what the dog had probably turned its nose up to.

We packed our belongings and made the five minute walk to the bus station, to try and get a shared taxi to Jalal Abad. The CBT coordinator had tried to arrange this for us, but was asking for 900 Som ($25) per person, which we knew was ludicrous. What annoys me is that the CBT is so highly recommended in the Lousy Planet as it stands for 'Community Based Tourism' and supposedly spreads much needed money throughout the community. From what i've seen of it so far, it only ever benefits a select few. In Kazarman's case, the woman who runs the CBT gets everything, she supplies the accommodation, the food, organises tours and even wants in on the transport. So how is that of benefit to anyone else? The CBT has a monopoly on everything and the people who really need the money get nothing. Its no more than a travel agency and one that in my opinion should be boycotted in the best interests of the Kyrgyzstan people.

The first offer at the bus station that we received was from a guy asking for 800 Som plus a charge for our bags, but we declined this. He then insisted he was the last taxi of the day, even though it was still only 09.00 and drove off, only to return 20 minutes later with his next offer. He now said it was 500 Som per person, but we needed to pay for four people, even though he had someone to pay for the fourth seat already! Once again we refused point blank and continued to wait.

As we sat in the shade, a farmer approached us to have a natter and pass the time. He was a nice bloke and told us about his family and the dreams he had for his children. 90 minutes after we had arrived at the station, a man approached us and told us he'd take us for 450 Som ($12.50) each. We knew it should be 400-500, and as he had asked what was a fair and reasonable price, we weren't going to squabble over 50 Som and agreed to go with him.

The journey took us over a high mountain pass and like the previous day, the car was struggling badly at times. We broke down five times, but the main thing is that it lasted the distance! On the way we passed some fields that were filled with blooming yellow sunflowers, which were incredibly beautiful.

When we arrived in Jalal Abad just after 15.30, our mission was to find an ATM so as i could get some money, but the only one in town was out of service. Luckily the bank gave cash advances, so i managed to get some money to pay the driver, buy some kebabs and get the bus tickets on to Osh!

Tes Tor, Kol Ukok and Kol Tor - a breathtaking 2 day hike and horse ride

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 03:31:40 PST

Kol Ukok, Kyrgyzstan>, Jun 28, 2008

People i met here who contributed to and improved my trip: Julia (Russia)

The following morning i was feeling much better, which came as a big surprise. We ate breakfast at the families house, before walking around to Jailoo's office, to begin our two day trip. When we arrived the owner immediately said that we had a problem with our itinerary, which we had gone over and over the previous day. The plan was to walk for the first day, stay in a yurt, take a horse trip the following day to two nearby lakes, leave the horses at the yurt and walk back down to town. I asked what the problem could possibly be and she said that we couldn't ride the horses all the way back to Kochkor, which we knew and didn't want anyway. I felt slightly relieved that it wasn't a real problem, but just another way for her to tell us that hiring horses for two days was much wiser than one, oh and of course far more expensive.

Our guide Ulan was already in her office, but she didn't even bother introducing us, she just muttered something in Russian to Julia and then walked us out to the taxi stand. Julia relayed what she had just said, which was that the guide was incredibly unhappy that we weren't taking horses for the two days. I was starting to get really pissed off, we'd agreed the route, paid a lot of money by Kyrgyzstan standards and she was still trying to bully us into taking a more expensive trip, right until we finally left.

Originally we had been told that we had to pay 600 Som ($16.70) for transport to and from the trail head, but the other two companies had quoted less than half that. After digging a little deeper, we found that we could actually pay just 60 Som ($1.65) each way, if we were dropped off in the village of Bolshevik. a couple of kilometres before where she said we should begin. Finally she agreed that this was possible, but said that it would take at least two hours to walk this distance and she strongly advised against it. Big surprise.

Getting out of the car in Bolshevik, we began to try and spark up some conversation with our guide and he responded with some short answers. Walking the first section along the road to the trail head actually took 30 minutes, but even then, Ulan was telling us that we should flag down a taxi, as he didn't want to walk! We were paying the guide 1250 Som ($35) to be with us for two days, which is more than some people here earn in a month and the service he was giving us was pathetic.

Once we started on the trail and there was no hope of taking any more taxis, what little interest he had shown in us died out, as he stormed off ahead of us. Maybe i am daft, but i expected he might try to talk to us, give us some general information and basically not be such an arsehole.

Julia and I decided that we couldn't walk at such a fast speed, so tried to pace ourselves. The scenery was good, the sun was out, and we weren't sure what all the rush was about. Having said that, Jailoo's owner had told us that the walk on the first day would be a minimum of six hours and that was why we needed horses. This had really worried Julia, which it was meant to do, but having looked at the map and heard the other nonsense she had been sprouting, I'd made an informed guess that this had been another one of her ploys to get us to take horses for an extra day.

The journey along the valley was pleasant enough and it actually only took three hours at a steady pace to make it up to the Jailoo where we would be staying. One Kyrgyz farmer stopped to chat with Ulan along the way, then the first thing he said to us was “Why haven't you ridden horses up?” I wonder what Ulan had been saying to him! What a dick. The path the entire way had been clear, as it was actually a jeep track for the best part, so i was left wondering why we had been told that a guide was necessary in the first place. Supposedly it was impossible to find the trail and the yurts, but I'm guessing that a two year old wouldn't have had any real hassles. Actually, i do really know why we were told of this necessity, because it meant we had to pay a lot more.

It was only 13.00 when we were greeted by our host family, which consisted of Grandad, Dad, Mum, two sons and one daughter. There was a small stone house where they lived and a yurt that was where we would be sleeping. On the pasture outside, there was a large flock of sheep, grazing cows, about a dozen horses and several dogs. The last time we stayed in a yurt was in Mongolia, but this was far more basic. There were a few rugs inside and that was it, whereas before there had always been a simple bed to lay on. It was cosy enough though, and i can certainly think of worse places that i have spent the night.

Ulan disappeared into the house with the family soon after we arrived and we were left wondering what the hell we were supposed to do for the rest of the day. We sat around in the yurt for a bit before going outside to sit on the grass. Although it was sunny, there was a cold wind, so we were pleased when the family exited their house and the wife said we could go into their house for a drink of tea.

We sat in their house for twenty minutes and made small talk. The lady gave us some warm milk, some home made naan bread and something that resembled a runny cheese. It was all very good, and i was grateful that she was making the effort with us. However, i always had the feeling like we were imposing, or maybe Ulan had been telling her horror stories of how we had made him walk so far when he so desperately wanted to be on his horse!

Ulan wasn't to be seen for the rest of the day, he opted to stay in the families house and sleep. After wrapping up in some warm clothes, we sat outside and enjoyed the wonderful surrounds and played some yahtzee, which we had thankfully remembered to bring up with us. I soon grew restless so went and joined the sheep on a mountain ridge, which gave commanding views over the surrounding valleys.

Back at the yurt, the three young kids began taking a shine to us, so we took some photos of them and went running up some hills together. Having tired ourselves out, we went and sat back in the valley with the dogs, horses and cows and waited for Dinner time. It was a shame that the family chose to eat first and when they were finished invited us in to sit and have our Dinner, with just the Mum for company. I think they did this as they thought we would prefer it this way, but I would have loved to have shared the evening with them. At the same time it felt rude to ask to sit in on their mealtime, as maybe they wanted to spend this time together and alone. One would understand if this was the case anyway.

The Mum cooked up some excellent local dish, which resembled pancakes and we had plenty of home made naan bread, apricot jam and tea to fill up on. Once Dinner was over we went back outside to watch the milking of the cows, which was interesting. Around 20.30 they started a fire up in the yurt, so we went inside to keep warm. It became dark at 21.30, and this was therefore bedtime.

The kids joined us in the yurt for the night, whilst the adults slept in the house. With plenty of rugs and blankets, it was actually a pretty comfortable set up. There was the exception of the biting wind, which somehow seemed to eek its way through the sheep skin covering of the yurt and with Julia managing to hog most of the blankets, it did get cold at times... until i managed to yank them back to my side :)

Ulan was supposed to be waking us up at 07.45 the following day, but we ended up waking ourselves at 08.45. The day ahead was planned to be a long one, so losing this hour wasn't the cleverest of things. The kids were all still sleeping, so we left them be and went over to the house to eat breakfast, which was some porridge, with naan bread and jam. Once this had been eaten, we went out to get our introductions to our horses.

None of the horses had names, so we took it upon ourselves to name them, but this was obviously going to take some time, as we needed to get to know their personalities first. By the end of the trip I had decided that my horse was called Ulan II, as it was slow, lazy and temperamental, Julia's horse was also called Julia II, as it ate, drank and slept at every given opportunity and Ulan's horse was called Deats II, as it was the most mischievous.

The horse trek headed up the valley, crossing small streams and passing burrowing gophers. Ulan II was really struggling to keep up on the rocky sections of the mountains and i put it down to old age. Ulan assured me that the horse was young and just lazy, but i later found out that it had no horseshoes, so stepping on such terrain was probably painful, if it didn't select its footing carefully.

After an hour and a quarter we reached the top of a mountain and from here received our first views of Kol Ukok Lake, which translates to 'Treasure Chest'. The Lake consisted of one large body of water and a smaller annexed section. When the sun shone down, the water had a beautiful turquoise colouration. We stopped to let the horses have a breather and get some refreshments, whilst we enjoyed the spectacular views, which included snow capped peaks In the distance.

The wind was really whipping in off the lake, so after 20 minutes it was time to move on. Ulan told us that it was probably best to head back to the Jailoo, even though it was only just after 11.00, and we had paid for the horses for the day and arranged to carry on to Kol Tor Lake. This didn't surprise me one little bit, but we insisted that we wanted to carry on, so begrudgingly he went on.

The ride took us around the perimeter of the Lake and then on up the field behind, where cows and horses were situated. There were plenty of new born fouls, which the mothers shielded as we passed. It took another hour and a quarter to reach the foot of a mountain, which Kol Tor Lake was situated behind. This was the first time that there was no clear path during our whole journey, but the thought of any walking obviously gave Ulan a fright, so he said we should go alone. When Julia pressed him to come, as we didn't really know the way, he said after some hesitation that he had to stay to look after the horses. Normally this would seem a reasonable enough excuse, but we'd seen them tie the horses legs when they didn't want them to go too far, so there was no excuse for him to stay. It wasn't worth arguing about, so we set off walking up the rocky hill, whilst he lay down for a nap.

It took about an hour to reach Kol Tor, along some rocky slopes and past a small waterfall. The glacial Lake was sublime, with striking snowy mountains on all sides and only the two of us there to enjoy it. We wandered around what I'd like to describe as a beach, although I'm not sure who would want to sunbathe at such high altitudes and with such a biting wind. Twenty minutes at the top were enough to enjoy the views, feel thoroughly freezing and be ready to head back down to the horses.

The ride back to Tes Tor Jailoo was nice, and we stopped to watch some local fishermen pulling out some scrawny fish from Kol Ukok. Whenever we came across any Kyrgyz shepherds, they were always keen to stop and exchange greetings and ask if we were enjoying ourselves, which we assured them we were. The only downside was that i was getting really saddle sore, as my body isn't used to the physical ordeals that horse riding offers!

Tes Tor was reached by 16.30 and the family invited us in for some warm milk and bread, before we set off back to Kochkor. The Dad of the family joined us on horseback for the journey down, as he had business in the town. It only took two hours to reach the valley entrance and at this point Ulan dropped back from his standard 50 meters ahead, so as he could talk to us. The real meaning of his renewed interest in us, was to advise that we should get a taxi rather than walk the last 20 minutes back to Bolshevik. Even if i had wanted to pay for a taxi, i didn't have 300 Som with me, as i needed to use a bank. He seemed thoroughly distraught at this and fell into silence.

10 minutes down the road, Ulan just stopped, said that his village was somewhere to the East and he was leaving us, cheers! He pointed down the road at where we should go, which was pretty obvious and left us to fend for ourselves, with regards getting the taxi from the village back to Kochkor. It was 20.00 when we got to Bolshevik and at this time of night there was basically no traffic on the road. Ulan could have come in useful at this point, as i am sure he would have had a taxi number, but God forbid he would have wanted to earn his money.

Having asked a couple of local people where taxi's went from, we decided it best to just set off walking and try and flag something down on the way. The 6kms were walked in an hour, in which time not one car passed us. It had been a trip of mixed emotions, but one i had enjoyed. The scenery was simply sublime, but the service we had received has to go down as amongst the worst i have ever encountered, and thats saying something!

Kyrgystan

Sun, 06 Jul 2008 02:48:55 PST

Osh, Kyrgyzstan>, Sep 18, 2009

Maybe there is a chance of going to Tajikistan? Can I go directly from China to Kyrgystan?

Kyrgystan

Sun, 06 Jul 2008 02:33:16 PST

Karakol, Kyrgyzstan>, Sep 14, 2009

How does Ysyk-Kol compare with Danau Toba?

Another close shave!!

Sat, 05 Jul 2008 09:56:14 PST

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan>, Jun 13, 2008

People i met here who contributed to and improved my trip: Julia (Russia), Clemmens (France)

A new country day always brings excitement and fear for me. I have encountered quite a few horrific border crossings during my time travelling and have come to expect the worst. Children with guns, crooked officials and crow bar wielding taxi drivers have been some of those 'highlights'. Thankfully this crossing was far more pleasant and after getting stamped out of Kazakhstan, it was just a minute walk to the Kyrgyzstan border post. Getting stamped in here was slightly more of a hassle, as their stamp was low on ink, so its hard to actually see that i received a stamp at all. There wasn't really anything that could be done, so i accepted the hand that was dealt and boarded the minivan for the final few kilometres to the capital of Bishkek.

Entering into the outskirts of the city, my first impressions were that it looked just the same as Kazakh cities, which wasn't really too much of a surprise. Tree lined streets contained a mixture of ugly high rise Soviet blocks and slightly less overwhelming rustic structures. The main bus terminal is located in the North West of town and this is the location for our first little ordeal within the country.

So often has it proved to be the case that there are never any ATM's available when entering a country, so it is always necessary to carry some exchangeable currency. We were armed with some US Dollars and Russian Rubles, but found the exchange counter was closed. Julia walked to the upper floor of the terminal, where we were told there was another shop. She returned a few minutes later saying that the woman would only swap a minimum of $50, which was not very good, as the exchange rates were poor. After hanging around for some time, the office downstairs opened and the teller finally agreed to swap a $10 bill. First obstacle overcome, we were ready to make our way to the centre.

Having just received the new Lousy Planet from back home, we now had the advantage of having some more realistic pricing for the area and also the up to date phone numbers of businesses, which would come in use. Therefore a phone card was purchased and Julia phoned around the hotels in the city and we came up trumps with the Southern Guest House, where 130som ($3.60) got a dorm bed. Its location in the South of the city maybe wasn't ideal, but it was by far and away the cheapest option.

It was already 18.00 but the sun was still incredibly hot, as there wasn't a cloud in the sky. We tried in vain for nearly an hour to catch the illusive minivan 132, before eventually deciding to just catch a bus into the centre and change. We dragged our sun burnt limbs (how crazy to get sun burnt that late in the day!) aboard a bus running to the TSUM department store, where we made use of an ATM, which usefully dispensed both Som and US Dollars.

Knowing the location of the Guest House was in the outskirts, we didn't know what facilities would be in the area, so figured it would be wise to get some food whilst we were in the centre. Small fast food outlets were serving up tasty Kebab Burgers for 35som ($1), which was half the price of Kazakhstan, so i did the only sensible thing and ate twice the amount! Making a move back to Sovietskaya, the main North – South street, we got our first sighting of a Kyrgyz policeman and did the only sensible thing – changed direction and kept well clear. The police here have a reputation for scamming foreigners and with our huge backpacks we were sitting ducks.

Happily we made it down to South Guest House in one piece and with all our money. It took a couple of minutes to find the right flat, because there are no signs. The reason behind this is that its not really a hotel, but a house that lets foreigners stay. The owner Nurdan turned his abode into a crash pad a few years back and has been receiving a constant flow of foreigners ever since. As he doesn't have to pay any taxes, or more importantly bribes to the police, it allows him to keep a low price. Luckily we got the last 2 beds, the others been predominantly taken by Japanese.

The first sign of another European came in the form of a French guy called Clemmens, who sat down to chat with us and give us a low down on the city, and Central Asia in general. He had spent the last few months driving his classic Citroen car from France to Kyrgyzstan, but now had to abandon his proposed route into China, as it would cost $1500 to get a driving permit! He offered to take us to a local restaurant, where we enjoyed a lamb shashlik and washed it down with an ice cold Baltika beer.

Back at the hostel a Spanish and Belgian guy had turned up and we all sat around in the communal dining/living room watching the Euro 2008 football games. Tonights matches were in Group C, which had been branded the 'Group of Death', due to the four fantastic teams that were placed in it. First up was Romania versus Italy, which ended in an entertaining 1-1 draw and this was followed by Holland thrashing France 4-1, much to Clemmens dismay. By this stage Nurdan had joined us and we sat around until 03.00 chatting and drinking beers.

The following day we had a much deserved lie in, as we'd done a lot of traveling and had a lot of early starts over the last week, so it was nearly 13.00 before i finally dragged my arse into the bathroom. Kyrgyzstan, like Russia, has one month a year where the authorities turn off all hot water, to run maintenance on the pipes, and typically we'd arrived during this period. Nurdan had a decent alternative though, as we could heat up a huge bowl of water in the kitchen, mix it with cold tap water and have a scoop shower in his bath tub. It was actually pretty good and far better than nothing at all.

Our plan for the day was to start walking towards the centre, located about 6km to the North and stop on the way for lunch. As we joined Sovietskaya a very scary scene confronted us – a street lined with policemen! The news had reported that famous Soviet author Chinghiz Aytmatov had recently died and today happened to be his funeral procession. We stood and watched the hearse drive by and presumably the cops were on their best behaviour as a sign of respect to the deceased, which worked in our favour.

It took a couple of hours, walking at a slow pace, to reach the centre and we stopped along the way to sample the local samosas, ice cream and also try a burger that was designed like a Big Mac. I also decided it was time to get a hair cut and asked for a grade 3, which the woman decided meant a skin head! I can't say i was surprised that this happened, as every hairdresser i seem to visit has no concept of how to cut hair. From now on in I'm just going to ask for a skin head every time and then maybe they will leave some hair still on my head!

It was once again a scorching day, so to take some respite from the sizzling sun, we went into an internet cafe. Re-emerging an hour later, the sun hadn't seemed to ease up, and i began to wonder what Ashgabat in August would be like – i read +50, smokin'!

Bishkek doesn't really have much to see in the form of tourist attractions, so we planned a route on the map and set off to check them out. Our 90 minute long journey took us past the Statue to Martyrs of the Revolution, Ala-Too Square, Erkindik (Freedom) Statue, The State Historical Museum, where a changing of the guards was taking place and The White House, which had some pretty fountains outside that were creating a rainbow.

Heading North and then East from here, we passed the Palace of Sport, Spartak Stadium and then wondered through a dilapidated Panfilov Park, until we reached the Parliament Buildings, Lenin Statue, Eternal Flame and State Opera and Ballet Theatre. The day was drawing to a close and finally cooling down a bit. Both of us were therefore pretty exhausted, so we opted to catch a minivan home.

Our evening was spent hanging around the hostel, drinking beers and cooking food. A few of the Japanese guys joined us to watch the football in the evening, as Spain beat Sweden 2-1 and then Russia took on reigning European Champions Greece. A defeat for either side would realistically mean elimination, so it was a relief to see Russia run out 1-0 winners. As England didn't qualify for the tournament, its nice to at least have another team to cheer on!

We got up at 11.00 on Sunday and found that the beds that had been vacated by the three Europeans, had been filled with yet more Japanese, we were now the only Westerners left! The ones that had arrived were all hippies, who had the smelliest feet ever! When they took their shoes off, the stench floated throughout the house. Thankfully the hot water came back on today and they all took showers at one point or another. Actually, they turned out to be nice enough, although they did tend to keep themselves within their own group.

As is was a Sunday, we still couldn't set about getting my Tajikistan visa, so decided to go and use the internet. We had seen many shops on Sovietskaya the previous day, so the obvious solution was just to walk to the nearest one. It only took a few minutes to reach the first cafe, but they were not only charging by the hour, but also by the megabyte. Not knowing how much traffic passed through a computer on average, we decided that this sounded a little bit dodgy, as it was $0.10 per megabyte.

The next 2 hours were spent walking in and out of internet cafes, as they all had this stupid system. Eventually we ended up in the centre, back at the place where we had been the previous day! I was still keen to upload photos to my blog, but the connection was not fast enough, so i settled for uploading the blogs from my laptop.

After some Dinner, we went to check out a couple of other internet cafes in the centre, to see if we could find a quicker connection, and obviously one without the megabyte charges. We soon came across one that only charged 20Som ($0.55) an hour, had no megabyte charge and was very fast. I began uploading photos, but after 20 minutes my computer closed down and restarted. As it turned out, you paid by the hour OR by every 50 megabytes used. Even though they said there wasn't a limit, there actually was. The guy said that people normally don't use that much, so he hadn't told us, even though we had asked! I said i didn't want to pay for 100 megabytes i.e 2 hours, when I'd only been there 40 minutes, but he wasn't having any of it. Julia didn't want an argument over it, so we paid and left. That has so far been the one problem with the Stans, they mis-charge you for everything!

My night was once again occupied with the football, as Turkey made an astonishing comeback from 2-0 down to end up winning 3-2 against the Czech Republic. There was only myself and one Japanese guy who stayed up to watch this, as it didn't finish until nearly 03.00, but i think it was well worth it!

A visit to the Tajikistan Embassy was first on the agenda, for what was scheduled to be a busy bureaucratic Monday. It is often debatable as to what is required to obtain Central Asian visas, so we decided to go there and find out first hand, before seriously setting out to acquire it. A very helpful and friendly receptionist told us that as long as i wrote a three sentence letter saying why and when i wanted to visit the country, i needn't get a letter of invitation. This was fantastic news as it saved $30 and a week in time. On top of this, they would also issue Julia and I with GBAO permits (required to travel the Pamir Highway) for free and this would save us $50 and a lot of hassle.

We went off to the photo shop, got some pictures taken and passport photocopies and returned to the Embassy half an hour later. Having completed all the forms, we were told to return in 48 hours. The cost was $50, which was incredibly good, as i had dreaded us paying up to $100 more than this at one point.

Been British, i do not need to register in Kyrgyzstan, but Julia had been told by Nurdan and her Russian backpacker website that although she gets a free visa for the country, she would need to register. To do this, you need a hotel receipt, but as we weren't staying in a real hotel, we couldn't get one. Therefore we went to the cheapest hotel listed and asked them for a fake receipt, which they sold to us for 150Som ($4.15). After lunch, we took this to the OVIR registration office, only to be told that Russians travelling on their domestic passports need to register, whereas those on international passports, like Julia, don't. It was a bit of a waste of time and money, but at least we had sorted the issue out.

From OVIR we walked to the nearby Victory Park for a look at the ugly World War 2 Monument, before heading along Jibek Joly (translates to Silk Road) in search of a Russian Orthodox Church. It was worth the effort, as it was a beautiful old structure, with onion domed roofs that were adorned with crosses. I hadn't been feeling too well for the last couple of days, as i was suffering with a mild flu, so we went home after the Church and relaxed there. I wasn't even able to stay up for the football, which showed how sick i was!

The plan had been to leave Bishkek on Tuesday and head into the mountains for a couple of days, but i still wasn't feeling up to much when i awoke. I therefore spent the late morning and early afternoon catching up with my blog and playing puzzle bubble, which I'm becoming a true expert at! In the evening i watched Italy defeat France 2-0 in Euro 2008, which condemned France to elimination from the tournament.

On our last full day in Bishkek, i was still not feeling too great, so Julia went out and bought some food to cook for lunch. Ideally i would have liked to spend the day in bed, but we had things that needed to be done, so once we had eaten our salad, we caught a minivan to the Tajikistan Embassy.

We had timed our visit so as not to clash with their lunch break, but this proved fruitless, as they had taken the afternoon off to go and have a party with other Tajikistan officials, to introduce the new secretary to each of them. Thankfully the security guard said that they were expected back at 17.00, which just gave us enough time to pop into town to post some belongings home. We returned to the Embassy at 17.15 and collected my passport, complete with visa and GBAO registration. It took a further 30 minutes for them to issue Julia with her GBAO permit and after this we returned to the centre to have Dinner and use the internet.

As i had eventually found a computer that would run Java, i spent the evening uploading photos to travbuddy and by the time we left at 23.00, there were no longer any minivans running, so we had to walk home, which took an hour. On route we picked up a couple of beers, which went down well as we stayed up to watch Russia eliminate Sweden from Euro 2008, by defeating them 2-0.

All that was left for us to do on Thursday morning was pack our bags, say goodbye to Nurdan and finally get the hell out of the city. Its strange how every time we go to a capital and expect to spend only a couple of days, we somehow get stuck spending a week! On the plus side, we'd had a decent place to stay, football on TV every night and i had got my Tajikistan visa.

Food poisoning

Sat, 05 Jul 2008 09:52:27 PST

Karakol, Kyrgyzstan>, Jun 21, 2008

People i met here who contributed to and improved my trip: Julia (Russia)

Our minivan terminated in the North East of the town and from here it took 10 minutes to walk into the centre. Plenty of pretty traditional wooden houses lined the street, which was little more than a dirt track. I had expected Karakol to be a modern little town, so it both surprised and pleased me to find something a little dated, yet traditional.

The first hostel that we came across had doubled its prices and was now charging 485 Som ($13.5) for a dorm bed in a yurt. We swiftly left here and continued to the Yak Hostel, which had also raised its prices in the last year, although only by 50%, to 300 Som ($8.30) per person, for a small twin room. Kyrgyzstan is supposedly the cheapest country in Central Asia, although they appear to be doing their damnedest to jack up the prices of anything connected with tourism.

After been shown around the hostel, we inquired as to the cost of food, only to find Dinner costing 250 Som ($7), which by Kyrgyzstan standards is extremely expensive. Instead we walked 50metres up the road to Lux cafe, where 70 Som ($2) bought a very good sized portion of beef stroganoff with fries and salad. Sadly like almost every other cafe in Central Asia, they tried to rip us off with our bill, something that is wearing incredibly thin on my nerves.

It was already dark when we left the cafe and the stars were shining brightly in the sky, whilst the full moon helped guide us around the streets, most of which were lacking street lighting! For an hour we searched for a bar that might have a TV showing football, but found only blank looks from bar women, who presumably had never heard of Euro 2008, and possibly even football! In the end we gave up and went home to get an early 'football free' night.

The following morning was once again glorious, as the sun beat down from a cloudless sky. Located one block from our hostel was a delightful little wooden Orthodox Church, so we went and looked at this to begin our day. After grabbing some food, we went and collected information from trekking companies and the tourist information centre, so as to plan where we would head in the mountains, over the coming days. Once this had been accomplished, we decided to visit the Przewalski Museum, dedicated to famous Russian explorer Nikolai Przewalski, who died in Karakol on one of his many expeditions to Central Asia.

A shared taxi costing 20 Som ($0.55) per person shuttled us 10km North to the Museum entrance, where i paid 50 Som ($1.40) admission and Julia as a Russian citizen only 10 Som ($0.30). The Museum contained some interesting photographs and descriptions of Przewalski's expeditions, and also some wall paintings that changed perspective as you walked past them. At the back of the grounds were his grave and a memorial, and also a statue to Karasay Kuseyen, whoever he might be!

Exiting the museum, we flagged down a passing bus that took us to the nearby beach. A little girl 'befriended' us at this point, although she ended up asking us for money later, so i won't mention her any further! The beach was packed with people soaking up the rays, but as we hadn't brought any swimming gear, we headed to a little restaurant at the edge of the sand to enjoy a couple of beers. Sadly a group of Kyrgyz men came and sat down and started necking vodka, which soon led to one guy being abusive to another one of his friends and the feeling that a fight could erupt at any given moment. Soon after, the sky clouded over, a wind picked up and it was not only the mood in the restaurant that had turned chilly! Therefore we called it a day and caught a shared taxi back to Karakol.

In the evening we went back to Arzu Cafe, where we had eaten lunch, even though my food had contained a big black hair. This really should have served as a warning, but there weren't too many options in town, so we hoped for the best. In fairness, the food tasted pretty good, i had meat and potatoes stewed in a pot, whilst Julia took a beef and mushroom salad. Unfortunately something that was in the salad wasn't as it should have been and Julia spent the entire evening running to the bathroom.

One of the main reasons to be in Karakol over the weekend was to go and see the Sunday Animal Market, located in the Northern outskirts of the town. I woke up at 06.00 and set off on my own, as Julia was still feeling horrible. It took about 30 minutes to walk there and on the way i passed a very nice house that was decorated with the Kyrgyzstan and Russian flags.

The market was in full swing by the time i arrived, with a mixture of people and animals intermingling. I waded my way between goats, cows and horses, all the time wary about one giving my a kick in the head as i passed by! A couple of times i saw animals thrashing around, but the locals didn't seem to care and it surprised me there weren't any accidents.

The people were also interesting to watch, so i went and stood on a mound overlooking the area where the locals were haggling over the goats. Men wearing 'ak kalpak' hats stood holding their goats on a rope leash, whilst rosy faced women accompanied their husbands to inspect the livestock. Their Larda cars and motorbike side cars stood just metres away, waiting to shuttle away whatever may be purchased. At one point i saw a woman carrying a cloth bag, which seemed to be squirming around in her hand. A few seconds later i heard the squeals of a piglet and then a lot of liquid seeping through the bag, nice!

From here i wandered across to an adjoining area where the cows, bulls and horses were been sold. Some of the horses were really beautiful, and i enjoyed standing and watching one get horse shoes put on. On the other hand, a few of the bulls were far less pleasant and were trying to head butt each other, as they stood tied to a wooden beam by their heads.

I found the place interesting and i was pleased that i had gone for a look, although its not something that I'd go out of my way to go and see again. I left around 08.00, as it had really started to hot up and i wanted to go and get a drink and sit down. When i got home to Julia she was still feeling ill, so we decided to scrap our plans for the day, so she could rest and try to recover. We didn't seem to be having much luck with our health in Kyrgyzstan so far!

I had a nap for a few hours before going out to get some lunch and also collect some snacks for Julia, although she wasn't really up to eating much. When i got back we sat in the kitchen and played Yahtzee, but after a while she had to go back to bed, so i took the chance to catch up on my blog.

In the evening Julia accompanied me to Dinner, although she was only capable of stomaching some green tea. We ended the evening with another yahtzee marathon, in what we decided would be the first to 100 sets, with each set been best of five, with the loser buying the winner a slap up meal!