Chief stamps

Karakol Travel Blog

 › entry 11 of 16 › view all entries
On our way to Karakol we make a stop at the Burana tower and its little museum. Next to the tower is a field of mini midget easter island statues which are alse old as we are told. Up next are the petroglieves near the Karakol lake, these are ancient drawings of goats and errrr.... goats. I believe ancient Kyrgyz must have really liked their goats. On one of the stones I see a rubber, so that's how the drawings are made, there not ancient but just badly drawn with a rubber. The guide assures me that this is rubber was left by a tourist and that the drawings are really really really ancient even more ancient than acient. On the way to our hotel we are greeted by a young boy who at first waves, I wave back, he sticks out his tongue, I stick out my tongue and than he gives me the finger. So far for my communications skills.

Mr. Prezewalski, the man after which the horses are named, apparently died in Karakol and to honour him they have a small but beautilfull museum. Not far away is an abandoned torpedo factory, which the Russians did destroy or one of the torpedo's must have gone off. Either way there's not much left of this factory only rubbish and a lot of asbest. After this wonderfull outing I decided to post the photo's to all the people I promised to sent them a photo of them. In the local bazaar I purchased some enveloppes, glue and photocopied the adresses as my Russian is a bit rusty. After some cutting and pasting I was the proud owner of some enveloppes which only needed a stamp.

On the way to the post office my eye fell on a Lenin statue, one of the few left and I quickly snapped it. In the post office I had to wait for the chief of stamps. Once she arrived she, a woman with a very muscled upper right arm, looked at me and the enveloppes and asked me something, I just responded by saying that the enveloppes needed to be sent to Uzbekistan. She probably understood Uzebekistan and opened a huge book full of stamps and tore off some giant leaves of stamps. She started licking at the stamps as a mad woman. After she almost dehydrated from licking the stamps she proudly hands me the enveloppes, still some drool dripping from the stamps. I asked her if she could seal the stamps. Now I know how she got a very muscled upper right arm as she carefully placed her stempel on the inkt cushion so that it is moistened with the perfect amount of inkt and put the stempel with great force and fierce intend on the stamp. This "scared" ritual repeats itself many many times as very stamp must have a seal.

Diner this time was with a traditional Dungan family in their home, just as expected with plof but this time it was delicious.
Join TravBuddy to leave comments, meet new friends and share travel tips!
photo by: Biedjee