Kochkor
I knew this was the right place to visit as soon as the Lada we were in sped past some sand dunes, a mountain lake and a bunch of dudes fishing in a river whilst looking at their herd of cows all within the same 10 minutes. The main street is lined with huge poplars, and the electricity poles are decorated with metal cut-outs of ships, rockets and other militarily-geared economic Soviet-era produce. We went to CBT (a Swiss-run NGO that has a network of home-stays, etc, throughout Kyrgyzstan) and worked out a place to stay and what we would do for the next few days.
Mira's place was nice. Outdoor toilet. Big dog (tied up). 2 sons (18 and 12). 1 daughter (9yo). In the back yard, a Lada 1500, with it's engine pulled out. My room was traditional Kyrgyz - bedding on the floor, Shyrdaks everywhere (traditional Kyrgyz 'carpets' made from compacted dyed wool).
I spent the next day doing little. Started off with a tour of the local graveyard - there are huge mud-brick sarcophagi topped with Muslim crescents and Soviet red stars side by side. Also some metal frame constructions in the shape of a yurt. Went to the town square and sat down. Talked to some dude called Mars, who was prancing around in a black suit and shaking everyone's hands. He wanted to show me some whale bones. Tried to find vegetarian food, and settled for some pieroszki from a babushka who told me I should eat meat. Had some Kumyz (fermented mare's milk) and talked to a dude who'd served in Berlin.
In the evening we went to a local park. The whole place is overgrown and people take their cattle and sheep in to graze as their kids play on the rusted swings, or the dysfunctional merry-go-round. Met some drunk dude with a toddler in his arms who proceeded to teach me about the deep meaning-ful-ness of "Salam Aleykum" and tried to kiss me afterwards. We went to the town square and met another dude who wanted to go and get drunk with us. When I refused, he came out with, "do you respect me?!" and became pissed off... but given he could hardly stand up, it was hardly an issue.
The next morning we set off early, walking out through some fields to the village of Oisakeev. From here it became obvious that Kochkor was surrounded by mountains on all sides. Very tall mountains. Met some dude who wanted to rent us his horse. Kept walking, eventually coming to the foot of a valley. From here it was a steep climb up a muddy road, as the clouds hovering above us burst. Ollie was helped by Mukai, who was coming up the valley on his horse to visit his brother. We also ran across Diirk, the German dude we'd run across 3 times previously. Best quote: "In Africa 2 things were most important: earplugs and pepper spray."
Eventually, we met some kid throwing rocks at his sheep and asked if he knew Nurjan. He didn't, but the next 2 yurts we came across were hers. Cool woman. Very tough and scary. "Are you married? When will you got married? Young?! I got married when I was 15."
3 young daughters, 1 toddler son, all living in the yurts for the summer (they do have a normal house in Kochkor).
Russian joke:
Q: Why are Kyrgyz yurts round?
A: So that Russians can't piss in the corner.
The following day we hiked up to Kol Ukok, a glacial lake at around 3000 metres. It rained and we got soaked. Spent the rest of the day in the yurt, churning cream by hand and participating in a weird version of "spin the bottle", where you spin the bottle then sing a song. Livin' On a Prayer went down well.
It was nice to stay in a yurt again. These constructions create a very special space - acting like a filter on the fabric of reality, taking out the harshness of the elements but letting in light, smell and sound of what's around - in this case a few goats, galloping horses, and a fast flowing stream. When you emerge from one, the world is strangely transformed - more intense, almost too intense to take in.
The walk down proved more exciting than we'd hoped. Met Mukai again, this time with two bags of wool. Then, walking across some fields we met a dude on his horse. Kengegul invited us to stay at his house, and when we refused, came out with ol' the "do you respect me?" line. 5 minutes later we were sitting down with his wife, daughter, neighbour, neighbour's wife, neighbour's son. Lunch: butter, cream, kefir, bread.
Kengegul loved Poles. "Ahh... you fought the Germans, Germans were fascist, very bad people, fascists." He also loved Brezhniev and Chlebovaya (bread) vodka, which we had to drink, with me having to make the toasts. We went outside for some photos and some random dude in an army jacket rocked up on a horse with two bottles of Kumyz which were instantaneously emptied. Somehow my vegetarianism came up. I gave bad meat in Australia as an excuse. Kengegul came up with the perfect solution: "Here, have my goat."
In Oisakeev, we were ambushed by about 20 Kyrgyz kids by the mosque. The good thing about Kyrgyz kids is that they don't beg you for money, or a pen. They are simply curious and friendly. Speaking Russian helps. But then, a greater danger arose: the babushka with +10 strength glasses and huge walking stick:
"How many of you are there? Where are you from? Why are you here? What are you looking for?" She quickly became convinced that we were spies looking for ore in the surrounding mountains. When one of the kids tried to intercede, she just told him to shut up and kept nagging us. Eventually we were free of the babushka, but not the kids. Well, all they wanted was for me to take a photo of them. I obliged.
Mira's place was nice. Outdoor toilet. Big dog (tied up). 2 sons (18 and 12). 1 daughter (9yo). In the back yard, a Lada 1500, with it's engine pulled out. My room was traditional Kyrgyz - bedding on the floor, Shyrdaks everywhere (traditional Kyrgyz 'carpets' made from compacted dyed wool).
I spent the next day doing little. Started off with a tour of the local graveyard - there are huge mud-brick sarcophagi topped with Muslim crescents and Soviet red stars side by side. Also some metal frame constructions in the shape of a yurt. Went to the town square and sat down. Talked to some dude called Mars, who was prancing around in a black suit and shaking everyone's hands. He wanted to show me some whale bones. Tried to find vegetarian food, and settled for some pieroszki from a babushka who told me I should eat meat. Had some Kumyz (fermented mare's milk) and talked to a dude who'd served in Berlin.
In the evening we went to a local park. The whole place is overgrown and people take their cattle and sheep in to graze as their kids play on the rusted swings, or the dysfunctional merry-go-round. Met some drunk dude with a toddler in his arms who proceeded to teach me about the deep meaning-ful-ness of "Salam Aleykum" and tried to kiss me afterwards. We went to the town square and met another dude who wanted to go and get drunk with us. When I refused, he came out with, "do you respect me?!" and became pissed off... but given he could hardly stand up, it was hardly an issue.
The next morning we set off early, walking out through some fields to the village of Oisakeev. From here it became obvious that Kochkor was surrounded by mountains on all sides. Very tall mountains. Met some dude who wanted to rent us his horse. Kept walking, eventually coming to the foot of a valley. From here it was a steep climb up a muddy road, as the clouds hovering above us burst. Ollie was helped by Mukai, who was coming up the valley on his horse to visit his brother. We also ran across Diirk, the German dude we'd run across 3 times previously. Best quote: "In Africa 2 things were most important: earplugs and pepper spray."
Eventually, we met some kid throwing rocks at his sheep and asked if he knew Nurjan. He didn't, but the next 2 yurts we came across were hers. Cool woman. Very tough and scary. "Are you married? When will you got married? Young?! I got married when I was 15."
3 young daughters, 1 toddler son, all living in the yurts for the summer (they do have a normal house in Kochkor).
Russian joke:
Q: Why are Kyrgyz yurts round?
A: So that Russians can't piss in the corner.
The following day we hiked up to Kol Ukok, a glacial lake at around 3000 metres. It rained and we got soaked. Spent the rest of the day in the yurt, churning cream by hand and participating in a weird version of "spin the bottle", where you spin the bottle then sing a song. Livin' On a Prayer went down well.
It was nice to stay in a yurt again. These constructions create a very special space - acting like a filter on the fabric of reality, taking out the harshness of the elements but letting in light, smell and sound of what's around - in this case a few goats, galloping horses, and a fast flowing stream. When you emerge from one, the world is strangely transformed - more intense, almost too intense to take in.
The walk down proved more exciting than we'd hoped. Met Mukai again, this time with two bags of wool. Then, walking across some fields we met a dude on his horse. Kengegul invited us to stay at his house, and when we refused, came out with ol' the "do you respect me?" line. 5 minutes later we were sitting down with his wife, daughter, neighbour, neighbour's wife, neighbour's son. Lunch: butter, cream, kefir, bread.
Kengegul loved Poles. "Ahh... you fought the Germans, Germans were fascist, very bad people, fascists." He also loved Brezhniev and Chlebovaya (bread) vodka, which we had to drink, with me having to make the toasts. We went outside for some photos and some random dude in an army jacket rocked up on a horse with two bottles of Kumyz which were instantaneously emptied. Somehow my vegetarianism came up. I gave bad meat in Australia as an excuse. Kengegul came up with the perfect solution: "Here, have my goat."
In Oisakeev, we were ambushed by about 20 Kyrgyz kids by the mosque. The good thing about Kyrgyz kids is that they don't beg you for money, or a pen. They are simply curious and friendly. Speaking Russian helps. But then, a greater danger arose: the babushka with +10 strength glasses and huge walking stick:
"How many of you are there? Where are you from? Why are you here? What are you looking for?" She quickly became convinced that we were spies looking for ore in the surrounding mountains. When one of the kids tried to intercede, she just told him to shut up and kept nagging us. Eventually we were free of the babushka, but not the kids. Well, all they wanted was for me to take a photo of them. I obliged.
posted by nekonote1903 at 5:43 pm
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