Category: Kyrgyzstan

As I mentioned the last time, coming from Tajikistan to Kyrgyzstan is like landing in paradise.

Over the mountains you enter a huge green plain surrounded by high snow-capped mountains. There are many yurts scattered here and there, herds of horses and cows grazing all around.

The next town is Sary-Tash, where I make a short stop to change money and refuel. Then I move on to Osh.

Otherwise there is nothing to tell, except that I feel really sick. I do not know what I’m dealing with, where and how I got that, but my stomach is not feeling well. I get medicine from the pharmacy. Most of the time I spend in the bathroom or in bed. I drive only a short distance to Jalal-Abad.

14.06

I’m feeling better and I’m on the road again. From Jalal-Abad I head north-east on the main road. The western part of Kyrgyzstan, close to the Uzbek border around Osh, is not really worth a visit, just my opinion. It’s heavily populated and there is a lot of traffic. There is a lot of agriculture and fruit growing in this area.

A little further north in Toktokul, the landscape is a lot more appealing. For a long time I drive a winding route through the mountains along a river. Finally, riding a bike is really fun, because I can really let it run.

Somewhere in between, I see a group of horse-riders in a field, from which a few wrestle again and again. On the edge there are sitting a few people. It looks like some entertainment is going on here. I stop and watch for a while.

There are two groups of riders and one dead headless mutton. The two groups can be distinguished, in my view, by the color of the horses, black and brown.

Furthermore, there are two piles of earth or stones, which are fastened with old car tires. They are slightly hollowed out inside and about one meter high and three meters in diameter. The aim of the game is that each three riders from each team ride off from a distance, grab the sheep and drop it in the pit of the opposing team.

Higher up in the mountains, I spend a night in a yurt camp close to Suusamyr. Well, it was not the yurt I slept in, but a bed in a container – I am used to that from home. The yurt would have been too big and expensive for me alone.

It’s mid afternoon and apart from breakfast I have not eaten anything, so I’ll take some soup – beef soup with some meat and vegetables. I am asked if I have ever tasted mare’s milk. Why is there a “no” coming out of my mouth? I am asked if I want to. I say yes, but only a little. She gives me a full cup.

The milk is fermented or slightly fermented, tastes slightly sour and has a low alcohol content. New for me. Not quite my taste, but I drink everything bravely.

A little further away is a group of people standing by the horses. I am told that the people are here to drink the freshly drawn mare’s milk. As I am told later in another place, fresh mare’s milk is said to be very healthy and is often used instead of conventional medicine, even as a substitute for antibiotics.

My gut is fine again and I can finally return to normal eating, the last five days it has not been that much. The dinner tastes sooo good!

15.06

I did not know, if I should drive to SongKöl Lake. Right now I’m fed up with driving off-road and bad roads. But I’ve heard from everyone that you have to go there. And I’m glad that I decided to do it.

The last few kilometers I torture myself on a stony path up the mountains. The landscape that welcomes me on the other side compensates for all the pain.

The area around Lake Songköl is the clichéd nomad area. A gentle hilly landscape leads down to the valley. Below spreads a large wide boundless plain. Groups of large herds of horses, sheep and cows are scattered across the green land.

From time to time white spots, the nomadic yurts, can be seen. Far behind, the blue waters of the Songköl sparkles, edged with high mountains.

There are only tracks leading through the land. I wonder who did the mapping, because they are drawn on the navigation device. Luckily. Otherwise I would get lost hopelessly in the vast area.

Many, many miles I drive through the plain, past all the animals. From time to time one of the shepherds approaches with his horse to see who is riding around with his iron horse.

I arrive in Kotzhkor in the evening. In the Happy Hostel I am greeted by two little boys, who of course do not speak a word of English. In one of the Dorms is only one guest, Claudia from Germany. I just kind of find out that nobody is there right now.

“They” are in town. Whoever “they” are. Claudia disappears to go shopping. I’m waiting. 2 more guests arrive. Monika and Paul from Poland. Paul is originally from England, but has lived in Poland for 30 years, was a teacher there once. Monika is a bit pissed because they spend hours unnecessarily driving around and waiting whole day. They also disappear after some time to go shopping. I’m waiting. Two German guests come. I know the procedure now and explain to the people, that there is no one here right now. If you don’t have reservation, just choose a bed.

I’m not sure where I ended up here.

After an hour or so, a grandma and grandpa come with a pickup. A bike on the back and the cyclist inside, Geoffrey. Geoffrey’s bicycle frame was broken and they went somewhere who welded it back together.

Grandma is a small, somewhat round lady, mischievous dark eyes, always a laugh in the face, always talking. Grandpa is a quiet old man who takes care of everything around the house. In a room, he quickly puts in a new door.

Somehow, everything settles, everyone gets their bed or room. Apparently, the two old people lead the hostel.

Later in the evening all eight guests end up in the kitchen of the house and chat. As soon as someone enters the room, grandma says: Sit down, eat, drink!

Monika’s bad mood is long gone. She speaks a little Russian, talks constantly with grandma and translates. Grandma is constantly chatting and talking. She puts bread, biscuits, jam on the table and starts to bake other quick-to-prepare goodies in oil. Everyone thinks Grandma is just great. It is already dark when the daughter comes home from work. She does not say a word, but the look says it all.

“Oh no Mama, not again! You invited all the people to our kitchen again!”

I have definitely landed in the loveliest hostel I have ever stayed in.

16.06

All the folks from the day before go horse-riding, only Geoffrey and I stay behind. He takes care of his bike, I take care of my bike. New guests come with whom I laugh until my stomach hurts.

17.06

I arrive at Karaköl, my last stop in Kyrgyzstan (you could say, halftime). On the way there I still have the opportunity to put my feet in the Yssykköl. There is a few sandy beaches around the lake.  I only stay one night. Tomorrow I’m going to Almaty. On Friday I stop by the mechanic to change the engine oil on the bike.

Day 34. I have done pretty exactly 10,000km.