This collects my posts about my time in Kyrgyzstan
One of the hallmarks of American culture is that we love cheering for the underdog. We love supporting the Red Sox in their fight against the Curse of the Bambino. We love cheering for unpronounceable countries in the World Cup. And above all, we love supporting our hometown pilots against Big Airline.
It is in this context that I’d like to introduce you to a start-up company in Kyrgyzstan called TezJet. Continue reading “The TezJet: A Love Letter”
Get ready, because this week, we’re going to learn how to make one of my all-time favorite Central Asian dishes: Plov!
Continue reading “My Kyrgyz, Uzbek, and Tajik Kitchen: Plov”
I got a few notes from people who read my post about languages heard in and around Osh and Kyrgyzstan who were surprised to hear that German is, in fact, spoken in some places in Kyrgyzstan. It’s surprising at first, but when I began to take a look at the larger history of populations of Central Asia, I learned a ton about some unexpected groups that have sizeable populations here.
To understand this situation, we’ve got to wind the clock back to Stalin. Continue reading “Sie Beherrschen Die Deutsche In Kirgisistan?!?!”
Osh is unique in many ways, but perhaps one of its most unique aspects is the sheer number of languages that are spoken in its streets. Perhaps only in New York City, New Delhi, Kabul, or Paris are so many languages spoken by so many, but Osh is unique in that so many residents understand every single one of these languages.
Part of this seems to come from Osh’s 3000 year history at the crossroads of trade and empire. Osh’s current demographics reflect some of this history; 48% of its population is Uzbek, 43% Kyrgyz, 3% Russian, 1% Tatar, 1% Tajik, and 4% comes from other linguistic groups, such as Dungans, Karakalpaks, Kazakhs, Uighurs, etc.
There are historically two major linguistic groups interacting in Central Asia: the Persian langauges (Farsi, Dari, and Tajik), and the Turkic languages (Kyrgyz, Kazakh, Uzbek, Uiyghur, Turkmen, Azeri, Turkish, Tatar, Karakalpak, and a whole bunch of others). Continue reading “On The Mixing Of Languages In Osh”
It’s Kyrgyzstan. The mountains are there, the trails are there, we have backpacks, jackets, sleeping bags, pads, and tents. Now all that remained was to climb one. Sounds pretty straightforward, right?
A little over a week ago, a bunch of us did a trek up a valley to an area called the Jiptik Pass, which is a spectacular valley that is great for first-time trekkers because there is a “road” that goes pretty much the entire way, so there’s not really any risk of becoming lost, and there’s plentiful water along the way. We set off midday after work on the Friday, and by about 7pm we had made a camp a few hours up the trail. Continue reading “Hiking, Or The Time Two Angry Men Stalked Me To A Town Called Papan”
When we were preparing to come to Kyrgyzstan, we were warned about the incredibly cold winters faced in the mountain villages of Naryn. We were also warned about how hot the summers can be, with temperatures well over 100 in many places for months on end. What we didn’t realize, though, was how quickly the seasons change, and at times we least expected.
When you join the Peace Corps, you know that you’re going headfirst into an unknown of knowns. You know that you’ll get sick, but you don’t know when. You know you’ll have an adventure, but you don’t know how or where. You know you’ll have ups and downs, but you don’t know the nature of those challenges. In fact, inasmuch as we have been trained to know how to handle a pretty insane number of wild and wacky situations, many of which are genuinely likely to happen, not knowing if and when they will happen means that, at most times, you still feel completely immersed in the unknown. It’s the fundamental paradox of the Peace Corps.
I spent a lot of August wandering in that wilderness. Continue reading “Mile 4: Adventure, Uncertainty, and Illness”
After what seemed like weeks of travel, we made it to Tamchy for rest. After a few days on the beach, we climbed back into the car and made our way toward a village called Taldy-Suu near the city of Tup, which is where one of my host family members is from. But, naturally, before we could get there, we had to stop and rest, and we chose a beautiful hot spring to stop at. I didn’t take photos of the spring, but it was crowded with Russian and Kyrgyz tourists alike, all starting in the cool pool, moving up to the warm pool, before slowly inching their sunburns fully beneath a waterfall of scalding hot water. Every so often, they’d get out and plunge into an ice bath nearby. There was a juice stand (like the ones in New York), a raptor trainer, and even a restaurant.
After getting our fill, we headed down to the beach again for more relaxation, this time in much more peace and solitude. Continue reading “Road Trip Part 4: Around Issyk-Kul”
Issyk-Kul means “hot lake” in Kyrgyz, so named because it does not freeze in winter because of its salt content. It’s the second largest alpine lake in the world (after Lake Titicaca), and is saline because it is in an isolated basin without drainage. Lined with beaches and mountains, in the summer it’s hard to tell that you’re in Kyrgyzstan, and not actually on the Mediterrannean coast.
After spending the night in Song Kul, where we were pelted by a terrific thunderstorm and the roof of our felt yurt dripped on us all night, we were greeted by this spectacular sunrise:
Just about all of my best photos from this trip came from that morning. We got up at sunrise, about 5:30 or 6:00, and our Kyrgyz hosts brought a table and mattresses outside, lit the samovar (they use wood-fired samovars to heat water in areas without electricity), and poured us tea and kymyz with bread as we sat in the near-horizontal sunlight. We were fully awake because of the light, but its angle and the cool temperature (it had gone down to 40 degrees overnight) reminded me more of Iceland than of Kyrgyzstan. Words really can’t capture the feeling of sheer expanse, with no trees in sight. Continue reading “Road Trip Part 3: The Road to Issyk-Kul”
Song Kul reminds me of a Microsoft wallpaper. Its grasslands rise from the water’s edge across rolling hills and up to mountains, with the fields broken only by the occasional yurt, cow, or horse. Tucked away in a high mountain basin, there is no electricity or cell coverage within two hours by car. It’s about as peaceful a place as I’ve ever managed to find outside of Alaska.
Song Kul is a summer retreat for many of the semi-nomadic people of Kyrgyzstan. While it has a thriving tourism industry, most of the yurts around the lake belong to ordinary Kyrgyz people who, every summer, bring their herds and flocks from towns and villages to the lake to graze and to relax in the clean crisp cool mountain air. When it is over 100 degrees in Osh during the day, it can be as cool as 40 degrees at night at Song Kul. Even though less than 100km away, people are sweating bullets in Bishkek, in Song Kul, it is necessary to wear sweaters, vests, and fur-lined boots. It’s a contrast in so many ways to many places in Kyrgyzstan, and yet it manages to remain so distinctively Kyrgyz in a most beautiful way. Continue reading “Road Trip Part 2: The Road To Song Kul”
