Friday, October 18, 2013

Goodbye Janela

A friend of the family is coming to pick us up with his car. He is taking us to Karakol, to the bus station. Janela is going to take a bus to Bishkek with her father and then she'll fly from Manas airport. We sit together in the car, only exchanging brief words. It is dangerous to get into a longer conversation, emotions could appear and a scandal would follow.
"Don't let them see we have a crush on each other" Janela says with a voice so void of emotions that I have to admire the self control. Janela is one of the most emotional people I know, she's capable to burst into laughter over a funny sound or be sad over a dead insect but now she's as impassible as the statue of liberty.
My relationship with Janela could be film straignt into a stereotypical american romantic comedy. It is strange how people in europe spend their time discovering, tuning up and accepting their own feelings. Here feelings are clear and gladly accepted, the main problem consists of having them accepted by others.
Janela is dressed up in her airport clothes. She looks really good in it. Here girls dress up just to go out on the street the same way european girls would dress up for a job interview. If they go to an event such as going to the airport, they dress up as europeans girls would for a wedding. Whena social event occurs they dress up like supermodels and if there is a wedding I can't even imagine how they look like, probably like sexy alien.
Janela ready for her flight
There is absolutly no need I take the bus with Janela. It will just be a long and frustrating ride where we talk by bursts not to be discovered by others and maybe, if we are very lucky, Janela's dad will go to the bathroom and we will have five minutes of heartbreaking talk which will be interupted in the middle. Janela agrees, the reasonable solution is that I go by hitchhiking.
Since Khadzhi-Say where she talked to my parents, she keeps reminding me about changing my shoes. And she has a bigger power of persuasion than my mom. So before I leave for Bishkek, I go to some shops in Karakol but no luck there.
I start hitchhiking at around 1 PM and get a ride to Typ, some guy named Omurbek who takes me to eat lunch. I should refuse because Karakol-Bishkek is a big distance and I don't have time to stop to eat and chat, I can do that another time. But Omurbek insists on buying me a bus from Typ to Bishkek. He gives me about 500 soms which is 200 more than needed to get to my destination.
Omurbek has a huge garden with giant raspberries, apples and pears and he gives me a ton of them. We eat lunch, it's plov, it's really good but there is too much of it. In the end I am so full of random food that I can't walk anymore, I'm way too tired to hitchhike and I really buy a bus with Omurbek's money to take me to Bishkek. Omurbek tells me to come to Typ again.

The bus rides for a long time, it's not as comfortable as most of my hitchhiking rides but I don't have the obligation to talk to the drivers. I eat some sweet things from what Janela's parents have packed me for fear that I die of hunger.
I walk from the bus station to the border of Bishkek where some car picks me up and I get a ride to the airport. I'm at the airport at 10 PM, Janela's flight to Novosibirsk is at 5:30 AM.
We are supposed to meet at 4 AM so we have some time to talk, at least that, before she flies to Siberia.
At 4:30 she is still not there. She arrives at 5:15 with a parade of people I don't know and who are introduced to me as "relatives". Relatives that didn't even seem fit to give the poor girl an hour of time. One of the relatives, about my age, is carrying her luggage. He stares at me as if I was an alien. I stare at him back. You may be in your country, asshole, but you are on my territory. Because of you I didn't see my girl before she leaves and I didn't sleep all night so get out of my way if you want to keep your teeth, and keep them you should because dentists cost a fortune here. I take the luggage from his hands and follow Janela to the check in.
The guy follows us like a dumb echo. The expression on his face is a mix of stupidity and surprise. Appearently, he doesn't have a clue of who I could be. For him, as for a lot of Kyrgyz guys, their imagination is stuck at "is she your translator?". And why would she spend the night on the airport to accompany his translator to the check-in? Food for thought, dumbass, maybe in a year you'll figure it out.
"I'm glad you came.", says simply Janela, "Goodbye" Her voice doesn't shake, it is clear as water, void of emotions as a stone. Her posture doesn't betray a single thing. She must stay decent and she will. If you look very deep, into her eyes, you might see them shake imperceptibly.
Yeah, the guy is watching, we can't even say goodbye.
"Goodbye Jan." And she goes.

Janela's father asks me if I don't want to finish the night at his relative's place. No way. I'd rather freeze in my tent. I need some time alone now; tomorrow, I'll be going to Bishkek. Probably to Igor's place.