From Bishkek to the Chinese border

I caught cold in this last car. My throat hurts, I need time to rest at Nurbolot's place. Luckily, his place is a safe haven for me for as long as I need and he has the internet. I say hello to some of my friends in Bishkek, mostly Gulmira and Aiperi. I learn that Aiperi, the successful business-shark who has four jobs, is single and created a whole language center at Prospekt Mira from nothing is actually from a village in the Naryn region. If she returns there, they will probably kidnap her and kill her forever.
I leave on tuesday morning through the Dordoy bazar to Korday (in Kazakhstan), border city north of Bishkek. The border control is quick and painless and I get this annoying Kazakh registration form. This time, I'll try to stay in the country for less than five days.
I get a ride from Korday straight to the border of Almaty. It's a taxi but he takes me for free. Almaty is huge so I need another ride to get me through the city. I have forgotten the ways of the Kazakh, while neighbours with the Kyrgyz, they are way different. More distant, more cynic, more globally minded. And way richer. Now that I've lived in Kyrgyzstan for nearly three months, I can see the difference clearly. While in Kirghizia people live in mud houses without running water even in the capital, here it is less common and there is tap water even is some small cities.

As opposed to Bishkek, Almaty has some kind of architecture. Some parts of it are even beautiful and there are skyscrapers there. The bus costs more, the phone costs more and everything is more expensive of course. Kazakhstan is the model of success in the region if you don't count Turkmenistan of course but Turkmenistan is a fucking dictatorship. Kazakhstan also in a way, they have a president elected for life but nobody complains. Because democraties are a horrifying example in the region. The only actual democracy is Kyrgyzstan and it had two presidents who took most of the country's money, shot people and ran away. So when a president is good enough to actually run the country, people are happy to keep him in power for as long as possible. Because every new president is a new risk at chaos.

Almaty is not ugly at all

My cold is getting worse. And I am alone. I am trying not to take any chances so I have negociated some couchsurfing inside the city. I am counting 2 days gor the mongolian visa. Couchsurfing never works for me but this time, I've written to almost the whole site. I really need the place, I need some confort to get better and some rest before China which will be a great unknown. Miracle of miracles two people said yes to me. I will go to Uki Uki, a girl around my age living not far from the mongolian embassy. It takes me a while to get used to Almaty's transport system. First off, there are busses and not Marshutkas as in the rest of the country. Then, instead of paying to the driver there is a guy collecting money pretty much like beggars in Paris metro. Except you are actually expected to give money to this guy.
It takes me two hours to get to the rendez-vous place with Uki but she is very late so I still have time to look for the mongolian embassy. It's 4.30PM, of course it will be closed but at least I'll be able to get the opening hours on the door and apply for the visa the following morning. Afterwards, I'll only have to wait one day because the mongolian embassy has a reputation of delivering visas fast.
I can't believe my eyes: the consulate is actually open, not only is it open in the afternoon but the consul happens to speak english. Before, that is what I would expect of any embassy but now this is nothing short of a miracle. It gets better. I fill out my form, give 58 dollars to the guy and he prints me the visa in a matter of minutes. I love Mongolia, best embassy ever.

I meet Uki at some kind of big shopping center. I am tired and sick but we talk, she has lots to tell, she's a bit rainbow although she doesn't know rainbow festivals exist and half of the couchsurfers in Almaty appaearently come to her. She used to be a web programmer but threw everything away and became a yoga teacher. She gets good money out out it appearently and her appartment is european styled, it is designed with tast and it has internet. There is nothing to eat and I haven't eaten since morning but I have a place to sleep and that is everything I hoped for.
I don't have a lot of money. Just about 400 tenge from the 1000 that I got by exchanging my ramaining Kyrgyz money. I've already bought a sim card with it and enough credit to sent sms to Russia to Janela. So I really can't prolong my stay.

Me and Uki

The next morning I leave at 8 from Uki's appartment. It takes me two hours to get to the other side of Almaty in a snowstorm. It's cold, I am sick and snow is falling like crazy. But I am thinking that this kind of day is going to repeat over and over so it's a good time to get used to it. I start hithhiking towards the border. There are esentially 4 cities on the way: Issyk, Chilik, Chungze and Zharkent. After Zharkent it is really the border.
The police sees me and they say they'll stop a car for me. They start waiving their sticks and scaring the shit out of everyone just to get me a lift.

Policement hitchhiking for me

They get me a car to Issyk, a guy who is driving pharmacy products there. He is very nice, he doesn't hate me because the police forced him to take me as a passenger and he invites me home.

I hesitate a bit, I want to be at the Chinese border as soon as I can. But I am feeling very bad, cold, tired and I also hungry. I feel it would be stupid to refuse. My host goes to the market to buy some food, just for the occasion. He is very nice to me, has two children and a lot to eat. He has running  warm water in his house which reminds me that Kazakhstan is really much more rich than Kyrgyzstan.

My host's grandchildren

He cooks plov, a little different than the Kyrgyz version but still very tasty. I sleep great and feel a little better. It is still snowing but just a little bit. But I better hurry, I don't intend to register in Kazakhstan so I need to stay less than five days unless I want to negociate with the border officers again. And I don't expect short processing from the chinese side either so unless I want to spend the night at the border, I better get myself there early and legally.
I hitch several cars before I get to Chilik. Then, a bus takes me for free to the last intersection before China. I am now more east than ever before by hitchhiking. My last record was Janela's house in Tegizchil. But now I have passed it by a few kilometers.
The road is white with snow and white mountains around it. But soon the landscape and weather changes. There is a microclimate around Zharkent, the weather is warmer and no snow. And I am only 40 kilometers from the border, khorgos. I am really going to China! The first new country that I will visit without Ilona. My first boat hitchhike is approaching. In some time, I will be looking for boats from China to Korea.

Two more rides before the chinese border and then I see the first barricade. Some Kazakh army chieftain tells me I cannot go on foot. I am not surprised. I have read Remi's blog, the french guy I met in mountains around Karakol along with Clark and Miri and he writes how they had to pay expensive taxis through the border at Iktersham (Kyrgyz/China) and there just wasn't any other way.
No way I am paying for taxis. But the chinese are worse byrocrats than Kyrgyz and Kazkah so I am not so sure I will manage to have my way.
The chiftain tells me that I have to take a bus. I ask him if the bus is free, he tells me no. I tell him that I am going to camp in front of his border control cabin until he finds a free solution for me. A bus comes and he puts me on it among the passengers.
The bus doesn't have seats, it only has a lot of beds. People are randomly sitting on the beds and it is really unconfortable. But I feel like being in this bus is the safest choice because I look like an ordinary tourist and everybody likes ordinary tourists.

It takes forever to reach the Kazakh border. The road is full of giant buildings and fences with Kazakh emblems. Kazakhstan is really making a fuss about that border. They are building some kind of center for international cooperation and they are making sure tourists see it before they arrive to China. If this is the Kazakh side, I can't even imagine the chinese. Maybe I should have gone through Iktersham, Kyrgyzstan and tried my luck with the taxis.
At last, Kazakh control post. They ask me questions about where I was, where I will go and they process me. I want to go to the Chinese control but again, I must take the bus, say the Kazakh lady.
"Is the bus free?"
"I think it's 500 tenge (about 4 dollars)"
"And if I go on foot?"
"Then the chinese will shoot."
"Do they have good aim?"
"Surely better than ours."
Turns out the bus is the same one as the one who brought me to the Kazakh border post. I get in again and this time, it's the chinese border control with cameras everywhere and everything electronic. I have to fill out an immigration form which I hand to the border guard together with my passport. He just writes something in it with his pen, puts on a stamp and lets me go. He actually doesn't even need my visa, he just needs to take a photo with his camera, I am already in his database and everything is computerized anyway. He knows everything about my visa, about me, and probably can read my thoughts.
I exit the border post prepared to face buses and taxis and burocracy. But nothing. I am in china. I have done it without breaking any of my rules. The road is open.

In the middle of nowhere

If you follow the main road from Naryn in the west direction,you'll arrive to Osh eventually. But before you arrive to Osh, you pass a high and snowy mountain range. At the end of this mountain range is the city of Kazarman. It is completly surrounded by mountains and inacessible unless you're ready to give it a whole lot of effort. West of Kazarman there is an even bigger mountain range and the road going from it is the most surprising, beautiful but also the most dangerous road in Kyrgyzstan. It goes way over 3000 meters and people die on it every winter.

Theo and John went through this way by bicycle and told me wonders. And I am going there now. The first ride I get is to Baetov, a city at the beginning of the first mountain range. Two young guys with sheep in the truck take me there. They buy me some dinner including a bug chunk of cold fat sheep meat. This is still the Naryn province. However I am not hosted anywhere so I sleep in a tent again. I am only 1500 meter high, so it doesn't get that cold at night.
I am just woke up at midnight by a guy who discovered my tent not far from his house and wants to host me but I'm too lazy to move my tent.

In the morning it starts snowing. I manage to pack my tent before the snow gets too intense. I want to continue west, direction of Osh but I get an unfortunate information; the road is closed by snow, nobody will go there. I don't mind but the problem with hitchhiking is that you have to be at least two to be stupid: the hitchhiker and the driver.
There is another road that goes to Osh, also through Kazarman, I have to get back a few kilometers and take it. People say it is open. It's a dirt road with absolutly nobody on it. I start walking on it. One car goes there, one car stops. It is a big truck transporting provisions to the city. The conversation repeats itself.
"Where are you going?"
"Kazarman."
"How much will you give?"
"Nothing"
"I'm the only car on the road, you'll freeze and wolves will eat you"
"If such is my fate"
"Get in you idiot!"

So I get a ride all 70 kilometers to Kazarman. The mountain path is high and impressive, there is nobody going our way. It starts snowing again, the road is white, the sky also, the mountains too. We see cars going the opposite way.
"They are taxis going to Bishkek," says our driver. There is no bus going from Kazarman to the capital, the road is too hard. The only way to get there is by special taxi. By special taxi I don't mean a special car but a special driver suicidal enough to try this road in a normal car. In europe, they would probably use a helicopter. Some of these special taxis break down on the road.
We are pretty safe in our powerful truck. A car is waiting in the snow, a family comes out, they are signaling us to stop. The parents give us their three freezing daughters to take care of and we continue our way.
It takes us 5 hours to get to Kazarman.

"The road" to Osh is closed, the people say. The driver's son calls his friend, he can host me. His friend's name is Adlet and he gives me the impression of a very kind and incredibly naive person. He is 21 and I 26 so calls me "uncle Filip" and he adresses me with respect. When I tell him to drop the act, he tells me that he can't, respecting the elder is so deep in his education that not doing it makes him really uncomfortable.
He helps me with everything, he even zips up my jacket which is kind of weird.
They make a lot of manti; my last days in Kyrgyzstan are marked by my favourite dish.
Adlet gives me some "gamashe", a pair of pants to put under my pants not to be cold. It's a prescious gift.
The whole evening he and his family are trying to convince me not to take the road to Osh.
"Don't go there uncle Filip, please. You will die. If wolves don't eat you, you will freeze to death"
I tell them that I want to see, at least, if somebody is going there. Maybe I'll get a super-styled jeep like to Son-kol.

Adlet and his family let me go with worried looks at their faces. I leave for Aral, the only village west of Kazarman and the last bit of civilisation before the Osh region.
I get to the village with two guys who don't understand how I can get anywhere without money.
"The road is closed. You'll die there.," they say instead of goodbye.

I can't make a hunderer meters without meeting worried looks and people telling me that I am going to die. I start seeing a pattern there and I am thinking about actually not going to Osh. I want to try to have a relationship with Janela my fairy before I do something stupid.
But I want to try to find my jeep. I make the last kilometers of my way with a guy on a horse who is fascinated with my story and tells me that I am going to die but that he doesn't think that I am so stupid anymore.

I get a lift to the last intersectio but then my car is goint left to a nearby village and I just wait. The road is empty and quiet. There isn't much snow on it anyway but the snowy part is supposed to be 17 kilometers away and that's probably a point of no return.
Slowly I pack my things with the intention of getting back to Bishkek, there were enough adventures for today and I have to get my chinese visa.

The problem is Kazarman is a little bit like Son-Kol. It is difficult to get in and it is difficut to get out. All cars are leaving before 11AM to make it through the mountain pass and all these cars are taxis so they are no use anyway. A taxi from Kazarman to Bishkek costs 1200 som ($24), way over my budget which is zero.
It is already 12AM and I am returning to the village. A lot of people want to say hello to me because not many tourists come in the winter. I go pass them as fast as I can, no time to lose until I hear english. By english I mean real english, not the "hello me name Adlet what is your job?" type of english.
Her name is Gulzar and she is the vice-director of a school. She's 29 and is also an english teacher. Her english is about the level of a french high school student but it is outstanding for Kyrgyzstan. She wants to invite me home and I'm curious so I go. She lives there with her sister, her husband died two years ago and her sister's husband is god know where.
She likes me a bit too much actually. She takes me to school and tells her collegues that I am her boyfriend she met through the internet. I represent a kind of prize for her, she wants to show off with me. I think it is funny at first but then it makes me feel a bit unconfortable.
I tell her that I did volunteer work in Karakol and Bishkek and she wants me to teach her classes. I get grade 5 and 6, english class.
The children are very polite, they stand when I ask them a question and they don't make a noise. They really deploy a lot of effort into replying to my questions.
I ask them stuff like "what is your name?", "how many brothers and sisters do you have?", "how old are you?" and that's about it but it's a very good start.
Gulzar is very happy and takes a lot of pictures of the event. She then invites me to a show of disabled people. There are a lot of them because there is a mine in Kazarman with a lot of uranium everywhere, the place is probably worse off than japanese Fukushima except nobody bothers with the radiation readings.

Gulzar has to go somewhere, she leaves me the house for a few hours, I can eat whatever I want and she has a lot of honey and ayran, the kyrgyz yoghurt.
I also go to sleep at a reasonable time because there are only women in the house and they don't drink vodka.
I leave the village with Gulzar telling me "Don't forget me." Weird feeling.
I get a ride with to Kazarman with some people who forget that I am not paying them anything but I don't pay anything anyway. It is already 1:30 PM and there isn't a single car on the road east of Kazarman. Everything has already left in the morning. I manage to stop an old car, jigul lada transporting gasoline. It is driven by two happy guys who had a little too much to drink.
There is no space so I have to sit on the front seat, next to one of the guys.

"Don't be afraid," says the driver, "we are a bit drunk but we are not dangerous"
I tell them that I am not afraid, I am happy to get a lift.
They offer me a bottle of disgusting bozo which contains more of their saliva than the actual drink. They also have some bread, I take that.
After a while we make a stop for vodka.
They drink half a bottle in two people, I don't drink.
"Do you know why we drink," asks my seat mate, his name is Anameldin.
"No, tell me"
"It's because of the radiation... you know! There is radiation in the city, we drink vodka to help to live with the radiatioooon. And the roads... the bad roads... it shakes the car, it's difficult to drive. Vodka also helps, the car feels stable."
It really takes a lot of vodka to feel stable with this soviet-era car on a mountain road but then again, they drink a lot.
The car breaks down and it will keep breaking down every 5 kilometers. So between vodka stops we also have car repair stops. Car repairs consist of pouring water randomly over the overheated engine and then pushing the car backwards.
"Are you sure you will be able to drive after finishing that bottle?" I ask the driver.
"Don't worry man! I have an alcohol tolerence built over a whole lifetime."
He seems to know what he is doing, he is a rare good kind of drunk. He is constantly apoligising about his drinking behaviour and respecting the fact that I don't drink. He is worrying that I would be afraid because they are drunks but I don't see why. I have seen dangerous drunks, I feel completly safe with these two.
They are going a total of 40 kilometers to Dodomul, the first eastern village. We arrive in the late afternoon to the house of Anameldin's parents. It has only one heated room with a floor made of wood instead of mud and and only heated room also. It has no running water, no surprise there (even homes in the city don't have it) and it also doesn't have electricity. It is just a heated cabin.
They have a lot of milk products and they drink Ayran instead of tea, it's super tasty. Only unfortunate thing, they don't let me put jam inside my Ayran.
The men all drink vodka except me and they are starting to have a serious concentration in their blood. Especially Alameldin who now has trouble standing up.
"We cannot leave you here says the driver," it will be dark soon and it's too dangerous. "I will find you a place to stay in a family."
He invites me to a family to which he sells gas to. Kazarman is already a very remote city and this village is remote even by Kazarman's standarts. They don't have buses connecting them to civilisation, they don't have gas except what these two drunks bring them every week. They live on a high plateau in the mountains in very harsh conditions.
But I am pretty confortable there. The men speak russian and the women only Kyrgyz. When I put my tablet out to show them some pictures, nobody even looks at them. Their eyes are captivated by the strange device that I have just opened. They have never seen anything like this before. Phones are common,  smartphones are not rare either and if you search long enough you can find someone with a laptop computer but a tablet with a removable keyboard... never. I feel like an alien descended from the skies. One of the men takes my tablet and starts browsing through all my pictures. He doesn't really care about my trip.
"Devushky goluiy?" (Naked girls?), he asks with a retarded look at his face. He doesn't even speak russian properly. He looks like a little chieftain of a local group of assholes. He wants to browse through some pictures of Janela, I really feel bad about that, like he is stepping into my intimate zone. I take the computer from him. He has a retarded and surprised look on his face, he laughs stupidly.
"Have a little respect, she's my girlfriend!"
"She russian?"
"No Kyrgyz. Don't you see the slanty eyes, does she look russian to you?"
"She your translator"
"My girlfriend. Kyrgyz from Karakol. We are marrying next year." The latter is not true but this guy gets on my nerves.
"Hey everyone! This foreigner is going to marry a russian girl!" He yells in Kyrgyz and drinks a bottle of vodka for the occasion.
After a while my drivers also join us. They are seriously drunk now. My driver is happy and Anameldin just fall in front of the table into a pile of bread and Jam.
"Dooont driiink vooodka Filip it is baaad for you," says Anameldin.
"Calm down Anam," says the driver. And they drink and drink even more. They start singing songs in a very loud voice.
"I am still taking the car down to Kazarman," says my driver with a sure voice, "it has never betrayed me."
Anameldin is now sleeping on the couch, he is feeling sick.
"Mooooother, mooother!," he screams.
"Come on Anam, try to sleep!" says the driver.
They take the road after fifteen more minutes, completly drunk and in the dark of the night. I stay to sleep at their friends house in Dodomul.
The next day I start hitching at 9 in the morning. No car on the road. Only a guy who wants to take me for an insane amount of money and a huge truck that is being loaded. I run to the truck.
"Where are you going?"
"Naryn"
"How much will you give"
"Nothing"
"You'll die there, wolves will eat you, we're the only car on the road"
"If such is my fate..."
"Get in you idiot!"
And that is how I get a lift from the middle of nowhere to my friend's Nurbolot appartment in Bishkek. But not after being invited to a giant breakfest, to a restaurant and being given huge amounts of borzok
.

Traditions of Naryn

I thought Kyrgyzstan is as exotic as it can get but there is still a strong connection to Russia in the Chuy and even the Issyk-Keul region. People speak russian, they are a bit civilized even though they sometimes live in houses made of mud. If you push it far enough, you might even see some european influance in the mix.
Naryn is different. I often see people speaking obly Kyrgyz. The woman's position is well defined, she often wears the Kyrgyz traditional scarf when she is married, her social status is clearly below the man and it is not rare that she has been stolen according to the tradition.
Traditions are strong and very much alive here in Naryn. Every breath you take is guided by a tradition.
People eat meat in Naryn. Fat sheep meat, all the time. They eat so much meat that they think that you die if you stop eating meat. Vegetarians in Naryn probably eat chicken. Narynians are very proud to eat meat. They are serving it as often as they can, in as big quantities as they can in a completly random preparation. Actually there is no preparation. They often serve you a giant bowl of cold sheep meat with a lot of fat and they wait to see your admiration because of the quantity.
Sometimes, instead of tea, they drink bouillon of meat, a soup they make by boiling fat and bones.
"We can eat 5 sheep in a day," says one guy I meet proudly, "we invite guests, and it's 5 sheep minimum. Mi-ni-mum."
After five seconds of living there, I get it, these people are proud of their meat. Naryn is also very cheap. A samsa is 10 soms here while it can be 30 soms in Bishkek. There is only one road in Naryn, it is about 10 kilometers long and the city is organised around it. Not more than 500 meters to each side, then the high mountains stop every attempt at civilisation.
Naryn is the third largest city in Kyrgyzstan but it has every aspect of a mountain village. Besides a few official institutions because it is a regional center, it is just an accumulation of farms and cows are running throught the streets. The whole thing is 2000 meters high, so it is pretty cold.

There is a river flowing through the city

I don't really want to put up a tent but so far it seems that I have no choice. The guys that brought me to Naryn left without inviting me anywhere, it is already 5PM and how the hell am I going to find a place to stay. I am not going to a hotel that's fore sure. My electronics are all runing low on battery. My camera is on half of it's backup battery, my phone is almost depleted and my computer is on about 20% of it's primary battery, the backup one being depleted.
Walking randomly on the street doesn't solve anything, I was kind of half-hoping somebody would invite me in out of curiosity. But it's too cold and Narynians are eating their sheep inside.
I look for a place to put up my tent. It is easy to get out of civilisation, even from the center, I just have to walk a few hundered meters to the mountains nearby. My phone battery dies while I am calling Janela. Me and her, we talk everyday. I think we are seriously in love. Who would have thought. I put my tent just outside the garden of a house. A lady comes out, I ask to recharge my phone and I get dinner.
She only speaks Kyrgyz, I don't understand a thing and after giving me loads of food she throws me out to the cold of the night. I put up my tent, I can't believe that I'm sleeping outside again after such a long time of being hosted. When I put all my clothes on, I can manage to keep a normal temperature  from 9PM to 5AM. Then, the cold wakes me up no matter what and I stay awake until 7AM when the sun goes up, warms the air a little bit and I can sleep again. So all things considered, the wheather is still kind enough to let me sleep in a tent.
However I am not staying in a place where fate is not kind with me so I buy a bunch of sweets, start eating them and prepare to leave towards Osh.
"Don't eat on the street, come to my shop!," says a happy hyperactive guy in an orange coat. I follow him, curious about what he wants. His name is Urlan, he was a soldier during the war with Uzbekistan. After having seen atrocities I couldn't even see in a movie, he quit the army after 4 years and started working in a shop in Naryn. The local mafia tried to shake him down once or twice but he and his good friend beat them up so now business is going well.

Urlan, my host during my time in Naryn

He serves me coffee, biscuits and I eat some fruits from his shop. He even lets me sell stuff because he thinks it is funny. Some customers are confused.

Me selling bread

When I tell him my story and that I came down from Son-Kul on foot, he invites me to his home and even pays fora Banya. Urlan is one of the most energic people I've seen in a while. He keeps running around, doing things, talking, he is always smiling and he eats a lot of meat. His wife is pretty as a picture and they have two small children.
The only bad new is, I cannot recharge my tablet. It just doesn't work. I think my charger is broken. The next day I look in all Naryn to find a replacement but nobody has seen such a charger before. Actually, they have never seen a device such as my tablet, I have the impression to be an alien here who arrived in a flying saucer with superiour technology.
Urlan says his relatives are going to celebrate the Kal'em, a ceremony where the newlywed husband gives horses, sheep or money to the bride's parents. The amount of money depends on the person wealth but ususally it is around $2000 which is quite high considering what people make. It is not unusual that people take credit to pay Kal'em. Actually, Urlan says, people take credit for almost anything.
"It's how we live, we can't help it. It's stupid, it ruins lives but we take credit"
Kyrgyz people take credit to celebrate a wedding, to buy a car, a TV, to celebrate a birthday and pretty much any celebration and then they spend their lives paying the credit back. Everyone knows credit means doom but they do it anyway the same way a smoker smokes pack after pack.
I don't know what Urlan said to the people but at this Kal'em ceremony I am invited to be the official photographer. I am running around with my small compact camera, constantly taking pictures of everything. People are gathering into groups, taking pose and asking to take a picture of them. Some of them are treating me as an object; just striking a pose in an uninteresting place with some uninteresting people and wanting me to take a thousand picture of that. I'm realizing that being a professional photographer requires a bit of self control.

Wife's family with eldest in the center

We are invited to the small table which is full of any kind of food that you can imagine in Kyrgyzstan (which is not actually not that much in diversity but a lot in quantity). There is borzok, thir oily bread, salads and a lot of different sweets. Everything is super-tasty so I eat all the time and a lot. I'm definitly not dying of hunger now but I have mongolia to get through so let me enjoy myself now.
Women are cooking like crazy in the kitchen. I realize that the kitchen is just some wooden cabin with a fire in the corner but they are making wondersthere. They brought two enormous containers full of sheep meat ready to be cooked.

kitchen

Urlan says that organizing this ceremony usually costs more than the money the husband pays. So in the end, in spite of the husband and his ralatives gathering all the money they can get and taking credit, the bride's family doesn't make a single cent (or som to be exact) and also takes credit. Everyone lives happily in debt for the rest of their lives.

We are waiting endlessly for the husband to come. There are several times when we are called outside (it is getting cold) because he would be here any minute but then everybody waits, nothing happens and we go inside again.
"Make room for the photographer!" Urlan yells everytime. I try to get the best angles for pictures but it's not easy in all this chaos, people are running in front of  my lens all the time.

At least the husband comes. According to the tradition, they take away the rope in front of him and let his car freely pass.
It is a young guy with his best Kalpak on. He goes to greet the Khazai, the master of the wife's house, the girl's father probably. Everything is very ceremoial. I wouldn't say prepared or formal because these are Narynian peasants, you can't even think about formal when it comes to them. However, to my taste, everything lacks genuine feeling and is, as everybody repeats me, "a tradition".

Urlan explains to me a very peculiar tradition of stealing knife. You cannot give a knife as a gift, it means that you wish death on that person. You also can't buy a knife because people don't sell them. So your only alternative is to steal a knife. If you are a guest somewhere, it is commonly accepted to steal a knife for example when a person is killing a sheep and leaves his knife out of sight.
It is polite to leave a symbolic amount of money when you steal a knife but never the price of the knife. And nobody will think badly about a person who stole a knife. However, stealing other things is very tactless and they will probably beat you. But I didn't steal a knife.

People are starting to drink vodka and behaving like animals, I seek a calm place to text Janela, I am not really in the mood of discussing stupid stuff with drunks.
"In here we have this tradiiiition...," tells me a small ugly drunk for the thousandth time. He is always coming to me, hugging me with his breath stinking with vodka and saying: "In here we have this traditioooon..."

I have the impression that this party is more about losers getting drunk than about the newlyweds. If I ever get married, I will bring only close relatives who will have some understanding of the moment. No need for show-offs. Janela is on the same page with me on this.
"I'd rather eat half a sandwich with a person I love than to have a diamond." she always says.

I try to talk less to the drunks and eat more mati and random stuff instead. Not far from me sits the elder. He is about eighty years old but looks about eight hundered. He looks that he is about to die any minute now and everybody treats him with respect.

The guests from the husband's side go dine at the big table. I thought the little table was luxurious, the big table is even more. There are giant amounts of food and everybody is eating with the elder grandfather in the center.
Urlan serves vodka after a while but doesn't drink himself. His brother is an alcoholic and he doesn't need to mess up his head with this shit. On the whole, Urlan has his ideas straight, he knows what he wants and what he doesn't and he takes no bullshit from anyone.

In the end of the evening I get into an argument with Urlan's grandfather over dating a Kyrgyz girl.
"I'll tell you something, we don't need any french here. Kyrgyz girls are happy with our own guys."
"Obviously your guys, with all the vodka they are drinking, have forgotten to please one of their own."

The grandfather doesn't appreciate my replu but appreciates my character.
"You communicate a lot with your eyes," he says to me, "you are not afraid."
Urlan takes me apart, he tells me I should be wary of grandfather.
"Grandfather is a bad person. From any point of view. He was in jail for fifteen years. In Kyrgyzstan, when you go to jail, you are a bad person."

Urlan said that Grandfather likes me but that I should avoid any possible conflict by replying strictly yes or no to his questions.
There are interludes where we dance but it is frustrating how nobody has a clue of how to do it. I would not ask for salsa but any alternative to the stupid club-style dancing. Appearantly, people here don't even suspect couple dances exist.
The drunk guy who always hugs me comes dance with me and repeats:
"In here we have this tradition..."

The decision is taken that a sheep should be killed for the sake of the ceremony. They bring the poor animal, all people make an omen, it creates a weird atmosphere. The animal seems to be stressed out, perhaps it senses something. Four men take it and put it on the ground. It tries to get away but finally gives up. One of the guys pulls out a knife. Just an ordinary knife, nothing special. He has a wild look on his face, I think he likes killing this sheep a little bit too much. He has this wild look at his face. I wouldn't be surprised if he could kill a man and I wouldn't be surprised if half of the people present here kidnapped their wives.
However Urlan says the guy is a good guy, he is his friend and the ability to kill humans doesn't make him a bad person anyway.
He cuts the sheep's throat with an assured gesture. The sheep dies very fast and blood starts accumulating in the recipient they stuck under it. There was a moment I felt a little uneasy but just a moment.
I text Janela "they killed a sheep it's horrible". Janela is the most sensible person in the world, the kind of person who will reassure you if your throat hurts because you got a cold but now he just replied "come on don't be a pussy, it's their habit!" This kind of sheep killing seems to be as normal as breathing air.
"If you think this is bad, how would you feel if you seen a person's throat being cut?"
"Anyone would feel bad seeing that"
Urlan has an amused look.
"We've cut throats of the Uzbeks during the war with Uzbekistan not long ago. You get used to it. I can show you on video."
However the battery of his phone was dead and the video was on it so I didn't see people being cut alive. But I guess you can get used to anything.

I start to get tired and overeaten, I go find a place to sleep. Soon there is some girl sleeping next to me and I have to give her space because people are accumulating like sardines. There actually isn't enough space for all the people to sleep in the house. Urlan sleeps outside, in the freezing cold, I have no idea how he does it.
The next day we have breakfest: meat with fat with meat with a boal of oily bouillon to drink. Actually all the meat was good, I don't complain.

I am leaving Naryn for Osh now. Urlan's wife gives me a bottle of jam and a ton of borzok and also cookies.

I went to Son-Kol and lived

"Son-Kol is a lake is closed," said miss liu from the Chinese agency, "all roads are covered by snow."
I hitchhike a truck from Balychy to the south for the first time, direction of Naryn. There is not much traffic on the road although it is the main road to the south-east. It also goes high into the mountains pretty fast. My drivers tell me that there is nobody going to Son-Kol anymore but they can get me to a village called Bashugandu on the main road, north-east of the lake. There is a path from there that leads to the mining base of Kara-Keche south-east of the lake. There should be some people there, and if I am lucky, I can catch a truck going to get coal. From Kara-Keche it is 40 more kilometers to the lake, south-east side. That is 40 kilometers that I will have to go on foot because according to them, there is no one at the lake and therefore no cars going there.
In Bashugandu I get worried looks from villagers.
"Dont go there on foot," they say, "wild wolves are running all over the place, you'll get killed. Come sleep at our place you'll be comfortable and worm instead"

Village boy on a horse

A car is going to the mining base, it wants to take me but the driver gets into some family problems with his wife and and they decide not to go. So I go by foot very fast passing the villagers who all try to stop me, always talking about the wolves. So far, I didn't see a single one. I get picked up by a mining truck on the way, as advertised and we ride into the night.
I arrive in a little settlement about 5 kilometers from the mining base. It is freezing cold already and completly dark. There are no houses, just a few trailers. It looks scary. A women comes out of one of the trailers, she lookes surprised to see me.
"What are you doing there"
"Going to the mining base, I'll sleep there I think"
"In a tent?"
"Yes"
"You're not afraid of the wolves?"
"Are they afraid of me?"
The woman seems genuinly worried and it is the first one that I believe.
"They are wolves on the road at night. It's no joke."
She lets me into one of the empty trailers, there is a heater there. In the freezing cold I really need that heater. It is operating at full power and it only manages to create a normal temperature in it's close proximity. The isolation of the trailer is bad but still many times better than my tent would be. I was lucky this woman was there with her wagon and heater. My head hurts, I don't know why and then I realize that I have not drunk anything for the whole day. I also don't have a lot of food. Just one bag of buns, a symbolic quantity of some vegetarian sauce and buiscuits Nata left me and some nuts from Kairad. It's not so bad for one person actually but food tends to dissapear pretty fast in the mountains.
The next day I start at 7AM, the night is dark, no light whatsoever. The feeble sun must be clouded by the giant mountains surrounding my path from both sides. My goal of the morning is to get some food and water at the mining base. I am greeted by Kyrgyz workers with black hands and I can see coal everywhere. The mining base is an accumulation of trailers like the one I slept in with a house at the center. I am invited to the canteen by the chief of the base who is also the local chief of police with about the same grade as the asshole who tried to deport me at the Kazakh border.

The mining base

This one has more of a sense of humour. First he tells me that I am a spy because I know russian too much, then he tells me that there are still people living at Son-Kul lake but wolves will kill me before I get there. It is still 40 kilometers to go. I drink tea with the workers, eat bread, buiscuits and some kind of rice porrifge. They give me a big bottle of bozo, a Kyrgyz traditional drink made from wheat for the road. It is drink and food at the same time, perfect for the mountains.
I don't walk 5 kilometers before a black jeep stops. The chief of the mining base is in there, he tells me to get in:
"We can't let you go alone, it is way too dangerous. Allah spoke to me, he told me to help you."
That is how with the will of Allah I make it to Son-Kul lake in a badass jeep with the chief of police lecturing me about religion.

I make it to Son-Kul lake with probably the best car in the region, it even has an altimeter, we pass 3000.

The chief of police is one of the very religious people. Usually it is ok to be christian as long as you believe in god, nobody will bother you. But some people, like him, really take it as their mission to convert me to the right faith. I tell him that my girlfriend is Kyrgyz and more muslim than Allah himself and he is relieved, she just might do the conversion for him.
At Son-Kul, he drops me in front of a Yurt where I meet the first non-russian speaking Kyrgyz. A woman lives there while her husband is fishing. She invites me in to eat fish. They didn't catch a lot of fish this season but she doesn't mind and it really is very good. We try to communicate with mimics I have been used to understand and be understood easily in russian for the last weeks.

She prepares bread in her yurt

After having a good meal, I decide to explore the lake. It is not Ala-Keul but still, the lake is very beautiful, it is a giant lake as high as 3000 meters of altitude. From time to time they are yurts, each of them about two kilometers apart. The lake is starting to freeze but the ice is usually not thick enough to step on. Outside it is cold, people say that temperatures go to -20 or -25°C.

View of Son-Kul lake

I walk on the south side of the lake for the whole afternoon. The lake is bigger than I thought and I barely make it back to the yurt where I left my things before nightfall. It is a long way back but I can't stop to rest because I really don't want to witness the -20 without any warm clothes.

Along the shore

I talk to the fishermen in the Yurts a little bit, they are a bit surprised to see a tourist. But nobody seems to be going back. I start wondering how I am going to descend these 45 kilometers of mountain path from the lake to first civilisation but it is still too early to worry. Plus, the woman told me something like there will be some friends going back down tomorrow.
When I get back to the yurt, it is freezing cold. I can't even put my hands out of my pockets. Nobody has given me gloves yet and I am starting to really need them. But I am convinced it will happen.
When I get to the yurt with my things in there, a car is allready being packed with pretty much everything.
"Do you mind if I put my tent next to your Yurt?"
"You call this a tent?, " says the fisherman, "you are going to sleep in our friend's Yurt, it is better"
With the horrible cold that I feel I don't really want to argue.

The owners of the Yurt are going away, the car is being loaded and overloaded

"You know what," says the fisherman, "just take the key of our Yurt and sleep there."
I am realising that this car is maybe the only transport that will go to the village for a long time but at the same time isn't it great to have my own Yurt. I say no to the car and yes to the Yurt. The car leaves and darkness and cold overwhelm me.
It is cold, really cold, what would I do without my Yurt? I am starting to realize that what I just did was just a little bit reckless and the fact that I am going through everything with a relative comfort is just very necessary luck. I am glad I made it so far but I keep in my mind to try to be a little less stupid next time.
My shoes are wet, my pants are wet, everything is freezing to ice, I can't feel my fingers if I leave them out too long. And the sun didn't even come down completly. I need to make a fire, I need to heat up that furnace before everything freezes.
Nothing burns. It is too cold and some of the wood is wet. There is coal, I don't even know how that burns and "kyrgyz coal" which is a variant of compressed cow poo and it is about the best fire fuel you can get. There is a oil lamp in the corner of the Yurt, I pour the oil on the pile of wood. Thanks god it burns. I find more chunks of wood and after a while I even put some coal in. I don't know what the fuss is about all people buying coal, that thing doesn't burn or very badly. I fuel my furnace with cow shit, that's more Kyrgyz style anyway.

Me operating a Yurt

After a while, I even manage to make tea and it is really needed. There is a lot of food in that Yurt. Mostly there are maccaroni and potatoes but I manage to find a bottle of home made jam which is really tasty. I drink my tea and eat buns with jam. I am the happiest person in the world. I hear some yapping, I thought is was dogs but then it tries to get into my Yurt, to dig through the wall, to dig under. A little paranoia overwhelms me and I barricade the door with a table. Then, I go to sleep.
The combination of my sleeping bag together with the furnace allow me to have a comfortable night.

This is my Yurt!

I realize that it is a full skill to know how to operate a Yurt. You have to handle the furnase, the cooking, the lighting, air flow, it's not that easy.
I create myself a comfortable nest with enough tea to last a month, a lantern and a drying system for my shoes and clothes. Since I am staying here a while I establish communication so my parents and Janela don't worry too much. I attach my secundary GPS beacon to the Yurt from the outside, so it has a clear view at the sky. The device is connected by bluetooth to my computer inside the yurt and I can send messages by satellite from my comfortable bed.

The black device is a satellite transmitter, it is connected by bluetooth to my tablet, inside

The next morning I want to visit my Yurt neighbours 2 kilometers away but I am greeted by two errant dogs who I mistake for wolves. So many people are scaring me with wolves that I start seeing them everywhere. Maybe it is the same case with the people who tell me to be careful because of the wolves, maybe they are also imagining them because other people told them.
My mission for today is to find myself a car to get down. there are several ways out of Son-Kul. One west, back to Kara-Keche, the coal mine, 45 kilometers. One south to the main road to Naryn, 45 kilometers. Two west, 70 kilometers to the main road to Balychy. Nobody is going down either of the road, there should be a car going in a week. The rule is simple. If there is fish, there is a car downhill, if there is no fish, there is no car. And this week there is no fish.

Fishing boat on Son-Kol

I am not ready to wait a week, I decide to go by foot. The firshermen have different opinions about wolves, distance and feasability because they are all going by cars and nobody has a clue about how it feels to walk the way. They advise me to take the south road, 50 kilometers to the main Naryn-Osh road. If there is a car going from Son-Kul, it will go that road.
"It is a two-day walk," says the fisherman, "and it is dangerous to camp anywhere because of the wolves."
Message recieved, no walking at night. I have to make it in a day. My plan is to wake up early in the morning, and start at 6AM. It will be dark but the first 10 kilometers will be above 3000, there should not be any wolves there, nothing to eat. After I cover my first 10 kilometers there will be light. The most wolf-infested area should be after I descend the high mountain range to about 2500-2300 meters, about 80% of my journey. I need a weapon.
I look in the Yurt some clothes, I find a sock. I soak in in oil and put a plastic bag and paper around it for quick inflamation. I take some matches and I have myself enough fire to scare the wolves for five minutes, about the time the oil burns and I find a tree to climb on and a flying saucer to save me.

My weapon of mass destruction

At 6AM I have my breakfest and I start walking. It is dark but the sun is slowly coming up. I am on the top of a mountain range, day comes quicker than in the valley. It is freezing, it must really be -20. I have a centimeter square of skin exposed the wind and I feel it's nakedness.
I have almost everything on me. My two sweaters, my coat, Igor's cap and a piece of table-cloth that I got in Kadzhi-say as a scarf. Besides my fingers freezing I feel confortable. I could put my second pair of pants over my first but no need.
The path is white with snow and beautiful. It goes over a saddle at 3400 meters where I get my first telephone signal. I have a series of supportive and worried messages from Janela who probably didn't manage to read my GPS beacon.

I am leaving my Yurt behind

I lose my GPS signal pretty quick when I get downhill. There is a million turns, I just cut straight through the terrain nearly twisting an ancle and killing my tablet. I get to a road at 2300 meters, theoretically entering the wolf zone, it is nice and quiet there. The path is better, it is a road actually, I can walk faster. I am on schedule, I should meet civilisation at 5PM if I keep my current rate. Except my feet hurt, I am tired of walking between the mountains across the endless plains. But civilisation is starting to appear; by civilisation I mean abandonned ruins from the soviet era but enough to find an enclosed space to hide from wolves and not freeze to death. There is even one house that seems inhabited, I pass it quickly, just marking it on the map as a safe spot to return to.

First inhabited farm

Ten kilometers from this place I see another house, I am starting to feel saved. About five kilometers before I reach the main road I hear a roar on the road and dust in the air. Miracle, that's a car! It is a jeep coming from Bishkek to Naryn through Son-Kul. It went up by the eastern road and down the south road. And they take me all the way to Naryn with a lunch stop.

Naryn, civilisation at last.

Sex in Kyrgyzstan from men's perspective

I am leaving to Issy-kul now. I have to say goodbye to everyone. I manage to get to Ananyevo in one day, that is quite a performance. I sleep at Chingiz place and he tells me about his business ideas. One of them kind of makes sense but it needs a giant investment he hopes to get from europeans.
Chingiz is smart and able but he has trouble understanding how the mind of an european investor works. He thinks that, as the Kyrgyz, they are waiting to hear about great potential profits, while european investors usually want to hear about low risk. And they want solid proof. They don't give money just for ideas.

Chingiz and his father have started another business, they are making apple juice and selling it to restaurants in Bishkek. It is hard work but it is a smart idea. I stay at Chingiz place one more night, he is going to a party. But this time, it is not the usual gettogether with friends and vodka in a car. This time, there are girls involved and I see the other side of the great Kyrgyz family legend.
Here, Kyrgyz guys marry early and women even earlier. A lot of them are even virgin before the wedding night with practically no sexual experience and in probably shows on their performance in bed. So basically Kyrgyz people have children before they have even begun to explore their sexual lives, at 22 they already have a family and live with their wife and kids and parents (!) forever.
"That's why they are all cheating on their wives," I told Ilona who didn't want to believe my cynical view on relationship.
Turns out I was right, cheating on their wives has become a tradition as common as drinking tea. I am not judging any of these people nor am I even saying that cheating is wrong, I am merely stating the facts.
I can't blame the Kyrgyz women for believing their husband will have eyes for no other than them. They stay virgin until marriage, they expect a prize, a miracle but miracles don't happen. However I must say that in the case of Chingiz and friends, the guys really do respect their wives and love them. But given the circumstances of their acquaintance, I would say there is no other alternative.
Chingiz says if you want a girl in Kyrgyzstan, you need money. That sounds a lot like prostitution but he doesn't meen that.
"Girls don't pay for things, the man does. 200 soms for beer, 100 for chips and 200 for the room."
That's how it works and he explains that to me without any shame. It might sound harsh for european minds but isn't it how it also work in europe. Except that in europe it is way more expensive and in Kyrgyzstan the girl is expected to deliver. The guy knows it, the girl knows it and in this country, people expect to get their money's worth especially if they don't have a lot of money.
I realize now how unpolite from me it was to do half-half with Janela when we went to the restaurant together. This is just unthinkable in Kirghizia.
Me and Chingiz go to a park. It is freezing cold already. Two girls are waiting for us. They are Kyrgyz of russian origin and it is crystal clear for everyone what is the goal of the night. They are already a bit drunk when they greet us. I am amazed how the religious extremism of Kyrgyzstan contrasts with a sexual liberalism ten years ahead of western europe.
One of the girls already knows Chingiz, she is kind of his casual mistress. The other girl is her friend and she is obviously there for me. Everyone knows Janela is my girlfriend, in their minds we are even going to marry but they see no contradiction. A man should be loyal to his wife but a man has needs and everybody understands that... except the wife.
As for me, I feel very weird about all this. In my mind, I am sure I will not cheat on Janela even though we have not decided on any rules. Weirdly enough, I am not interested in any other girl right now. BUt I am very interested on that process. Seduction is such a complicated art in europe, I am very interested in seeing it simplified.
I expected the girls too be very intteresting, some kind of rare characters because I have neer seen such sexual openness before, all countires combined. Instead, I realize the blond girl is blank. She has no clue about anything in life. She is not curious she wants to go to Paris and that's basically it. Or maybe I don't put too much effort into my communication with her because deep down, I don't really ccare about sleeping with her. She is pretty alllright, she could be a fashion model judgiéng by european criteria but she is just so empty. I can''t find anything interesting about her, no feeling, either emotional nor physical.
After a while, I realize she is a bit lost, a bit like me, we both kind of wonder what we are dooing here. I think she is curious about what I will do and I am curious about what she will do so we are kind of in a funny stalemate.
The other couple however is making progress. Chingiz is now holding his mistress by the belly, maybe they even kissed once or twice. Obviously they are not starting from zero. Noticing the lack of progress from my side, Chingiz takes me apart and asks:
"So... you don't think she's pretty?"
I do think she is pretty but I try to explain to him that in europe, except a few rare cases, we don't have sex after five minutes of talking to each other. Chingiz is surprised by these strange customs. When I explain to him that european boys pay several restaurants in a row merely for the hope of a first kiss he just shakes his head. "This is such a bad investment, no wonder your economy is falling apart"
"But you are in Kyrgyzstan now," he says, "you should play by Kyrgyz rules. You go to the girl, you buy her chips and beer, you tell her that you like her and then you tell her I want you, she says yes or no and that's it."
"Come on, does that bullshit ever work?"
"Hey, trust me man, I was a taxi driver in Bishkek for half a year and I had 4 girls a week." Strange country.
Turns out that to score a girl in Kyrgyzstan you need to have not only chips and beer but also a car. That's logical for everyone who has a culture in american movies: chips+beer+girl+car=sex. And so far, with its corrupt cops, liberated girls, weed, guns, gangs and alcohol, Kyrgyzstan has been nothing like america but everything like an american movie.
The problem with the sex equation is that Chingiz doesn't have a car. His parents took the car and he has no idea whe  they will resturn. I suggest that we could still buy the girls some more chips because they looked hungry but Chingiz throws me a surprised look: "what for?"
Yeah, everything is calculated and has a purpose. Nobody buys a puzzle with a missing piece.
Chingiz goes on to call Adlet. Adlet is the fourth richest man in town and he has a car. He comes with his car fulll of guys, about four of them. They buy vodka and get a bit drank and then we go to see the girls. They are waiting in a freezing cold, it must be -10. They seem scared, they expected me and Chingiz, that was the deal and now they are surrounded by six drunk guys that they have never seen before. Any european girl would not only run away but call the police right away, probably rightfully so in most cases.

Chingiz obviously puts his buddies first. He talks with them, drinks with them, he doesn't have a single word for the girls. Chingiz brother calls, says parents have returned, he can have the car. Chingiz leaves the scared girls with all strangers and goes to take the car. Then he puts the girls in his parents car to wait for him to finish having fun with his buddies.
I go sit with the girls, that's also a way not to drink.

"Hi"
"Hi"
"I want to go home," whispers the other girl, not Chingiz' mistress
This is enough, the game is over and I am not curious anymore. This is the kind of situation me and Ilona were in a lot of times and now I am on the other side of the situation. I can't understand Chingiz. He wants something from these girls, why isn't he doing anything to get it? If you want to sleep with a girl, you should treat her with respect otherwise she will not be in the mood. That's basic science.
The thing is that there is only one girl that Chingiz respects: his wife. He loves her, he cherishes her and she is his only girl on the planet. That is why him sleeping with other women will never impact his relatiionship, unless he is discovered of course.

The girls also, are shy beyond measure. Any girl I know would at least ask when this drinking fest will be finished so Chingiz would have time for them. But they don't ask anything, maybe because of the position a woman has in Kyrgyzstan and probably also because they are scared.
"Chingiz is not a bad guy," I tell the other girl, "he will not do anything that you don't want and nobody will force you to do anything," I say to her
"Thank you." There is gratitude in her voice, this girl obviously isn't used to be treated with respect.
"Do you want to go home?"
"Yes"
"Then you have to repeat it many times, Chingiz will take you"
She nods her head. She is scared, she is cold and she is tired. She didn't take any warm clothes.
Adlet rides away but his buddies stay, we are now all in Chingiz" car.
Chingiz' mother calls, she needs a ride somewhere. Parents have priority before everything except god, Chingiz leaves us all out into the freezing cold and goes to follow his mother's will. The other girl is freezing, she tries to keep warm and nobody helps her. Maybe because everybody is also doing his best not to freeze or maybe because she has lost respect of others because she is not a virgin. Strange country.
I lend her my coat and she thanks me beyond measure. I then go talk to Chingiz and he agrees to take her home. He doesn't really understand why the girl wans to go home but he respects her will.
His buddies go home also leaving us only three in the car: me, Chingiz and his mistress. The only way his mistress didn't run away is that she is desperatly in love with him. This is how usually relationships are: unbalanced.

Nata got sick and flied away

Nata and me have arrived to Igor's house, we got a ride straight to his doorstep. I remember Ilona saying "We are so lucky to have such a huge home with a garden so close to the center of Bishkek!"
Nata's reaction wa a bit different: "I'd rather sleep in a jail! I can't believe you would let me sleep at this guy's place alone. And he is scary, he looks like a russian drunk!"
I got used to Igor so I didn't notice but it's true, his face is quite scary with his fallen teeth... russian drunk is the right way to go except he is greek. Now, Igor looks even more scary because he has gotten into a fight and got a pretty nasty beating. No broken bones but his face is a mess, blood everywhere. His cheeks ere twice their normal size and his nose is purple. He looks like a drunk version of Terminator.
"Three guys jumped me when I went for the cigarettes. I didn't sleep for two nights," says Igor
He didn't see the doctor, that's not his style. "It'll pass"
So yeah, not the best welcoming party but then again, it is a big house near the center of Bishkek. I guess Nata will have to get used to travelling with me and I will get used to travel with Nata.
Either way, I am very happy that she is here, it seems kind of unreal that she made it to Kyrgyzstan, I still didn't get used to it.
This night we manage to sleep a bit despite Igor leaving on the TV set until 2AM.
We went to Bishkek, not really to visit because there is nothing to see but to give my talking cirlces, to say bye to my friends.
I feel a bit bad for Nata because I remember how I felt in georgia. The situation is kind of the same the other way around, she must feel like a third wheel. I don't like it and I fear she might just pack her things and go away. But I sometimes underestimate Nata; considering what she has been through, she is more resistant than she seems.
But there is resistant and resistant. You can resist to hitchhike through siberia, you can get through constant sexual harassment and whatever, that doesn't mean that your nerves will withstand dealing with the Chinese embassy.
After talking to them, Nata is already considering to fly back. The chinese embassy is refusing all invitation letters except from members of the government. So basically unless you are a close friend of the president of the people's dictatorship of China, you have to go through an agency.

The next night Igor gets drunk. Not really drunk but enough to start about his conspiracy theories.
"And this is all the fault of the Iseaelis, they're behind all of it! Masons! Masons! They are financing the world's doom. But I will go slowly... infiltrate their masonic lodge in America... I will bring them down one by one, I, Igor the greek."
At midnight we really want to sleep but Igor sits to Nata's bed and starts yelling: "You are not going to China! You fools! The chinese will have your balls, both of you! Fucking chinese they go hand in hand with the Americans, China, America, Illuminati all the same, you cannot fool me!"
"Come one Igor we want to sleep! We can talk about all this tomorrow!"
"Tomorrow I won't have the vodka to let me tell all these things" That was kind of my point. And Igor continues:
"And you and you... you don't think I know who you are?"
"And who am I?"
"You are an American spy! You fucking french, you are spying for America you think you are on the right side? You are so wrong! Why don't you leave us Kyrgyz people alone?"
"Come one Igor you know I am no spy."
"So what are you doing here in Kyrgyzstan posing as a tourist and you, and you," he turns to Nata, "why did you betray your country?"
"What? Let me sleep!"
"Why did you betray your beloved country, why betray Russia, the perfect land, why do you want to destroy russia that never did anything wrong to anyone"
He then goes on how russia is the best country in the world who never attacked anyone, who always defended itself against evil nations funded by americans, and he advised us to change sides and side with russia aainst America because nobody can destroy russia anyway.
"And nobody knows that during the second world war there were machines who were chopping people automatically, they were running over them like bulldozers and making steaks out of them like this..."
And he turns his hands quickly, one arount the other to mimic the bulldozer. With his beaten up face and the drunk expression on his face he really looks like a zombie.
I end up sleeping in Nata's room for safety reasons even though I know Igor wouldn't do anything to her.
The next day we are both tired, especially Nata because she didn't sleep well for a week. We tell igor that we are going to Karakol but the truth is we are just looking for another place to sleep in Bishkek. Nata says that Igor is just starting his "zapoy" which is a russian word that has probably no equivalent in english. It has been invented specially for russians and their huge drinking habits. When somebody is in zapoy, he will start to drink everynight and it will take him about a week to stop. I trust Nata on this because she is russian and she has seen more people with a drinking problem than I could possibly imagine.
"We russian people are fucked up, you know," she says once, "we grow up in this."
Me and Nata have found a way to communicate. I can't say we feel each other but we've found a common tongue, some understanding of each other. I don't spend my time looking for my place with her anymore.
My relationship with Janela is also coming into the mix and everything is kind of fine. Except that we still don't have a place to stay.
My contacts in Bishkek are all running dry mostly because most of them are girls and they can host only Nata. The problem with Nata is that some of them have a crush on me so handing them Nata would be tactless to say the least, not to mention not very comfortable for Nata.
My last hope is Nurbolot from Osh who studies and lives in Bishkek. I met him at the bus station, I was waiting for Elina, my english lesson. They asked if I needed help and so on and by the way he has told me that I can stay at his house if I ever needed something. Sometimes it's hard to distinguish between a true invitation and just politeness but now it is our last option. There is also the boss of the sewing machine company who hosted us with Ilona for one night in Bishkek but that was two months ago.
I try Nurbolot and he says yes! He has a student appartment in west Bishkek. There are about a million people living there, coming and going. Nurbolot is nineteen but as many Kyrgyz he has more life experience than his age tells. He speaks english, with mistakes but well enough for us to understand each other quite well. He completly understand that we are tired and gives us as much space as he can. Nata can sleep, we can rest and... he has the internet. He even knows how to cook well enough to even impress Nata a bit. He keeps calling her "Misses Natacha" and says "Can you wake up the Natacha" which gives me the impression to deal whith some kind of esoteric object when it comes to Nata.
Nata is very tired but sleeping doesn't help. She gets more tired instead, her condition gets worse. Her heart starts racing, her head hurts, it is scary.
"Don't leave me alone," she says and I realize that at that exact moment, this girl who was a complete stranger three months ago in armenia is actually my most familiar point in life and space. This is weird.

It is cold in the morning...

We stay one more day and then even one more day. Sometimes she can't even stand. We start discussing about her going back to Russian, even taking the next flight to Moscow. It is a very hard blow for me. I could let Ilona go without being too shaken. It was harder with Janela but I knew she had to go and I knew that I was not going to continue alone. However, Nata's departure was unexpected. This is it, I will be really alone now, in Kyrgyzstan. Now everybody has really left and every decision and every consequence is strictly mine to take and to bear. Now it is getting scary.

The next days it becomes a sure thing that Nata leaves. Chingiz calls, he says he can help, he has a heart doctor among his relatives. But the fate is sealed. We go to see a movie, we talk, we go to try clothes, Nata owes me for a bet she lost. And after that, we go to the airport. Nata is flying in the afternoon. She says we will see each other again and I think she is right.

Nata, me and the police

Igor answers his phone again so I am staying at his place. Meanwhile, Nata decided to take a train from Astana to the Kyrgyz Border, hitchhiking being too difficult. I offer her to join her in Kazakkhstan because I still have a valid visa to get there but she doesn't want to. I can understand the need to take a train, hitchhiking alone through siberia is not an easy task and she really did it, about 4000 kilometers.
She should be at the border at 11:30 so I leave Bishkek early in the morning. Hitchhiking to the border works better than expected, people think it's romantic that I am meeting Nata who has come such a long way at the border, they even give me 100 soms. There is no point of explaining that she is not my girlfriend, just a friend, they like their version of the story.
On the border, a guard asks me for my passport, I don't have it, it's in Bishkek,  it is in Bishkek at the Chinese Agency, Miss Liu has it. He is very surprised by we talk a little and he lets me go.
Nata is late so I sit somewhere and work on subtitles on Janela's video.
A while later I am disturbed by some fat guy who asks where I am from and whatam I doing. I have more important things to do so I tell him "from czech republic" without even looking at him. He wants to see my passport and tells me he is the chief of police of 10th district. I tell him that I don't have it and he says I have to come with him.
I have heard enough rumours of false cops that I ask to see his documents to prove he's really a cop. He shows me something that doesn't seem very convincing, there is a photo on it, some kind of stamp and some handwritten stuff.
I tell him that I am waiting for my friend and that I'm not going anywhere.
"You are here without visa, we are going to deport you to Czech Republic" he says.
"Why would I want to live in your country where there is no job and no money whatsoever? Get some sense into your head, all you Kyrgyz people want to go to europe, not the other way around." This guy is starting to get on my nerves.
He needs a proof that I am really a Czech Citizen so I give him my Czech identity card. He takes it and shows it to some other people including the guard I talked about to before. He tells me to wait while he checks something with the border control guys.
I consider to just walk away because I have my other identity card and 2 passports so what do I care to lose one but anyway, I'll try to keep it.
So I wait for him. They agree to wait one hour for Nata. In the car, I talk to the driver, he has three children, lives in Kara-Balta. I tell him my story, he's very impressed. I also have time to observe the fat chief of police, he's the right kind of asshole. Corrupt to the bone, he is a good replica from the main character from the series "the shield". He's not stupid, that's for sure, I will not make the mistake of underestimating him.

He thinks he is smarter than everybody, he holds his chief of police emblem with pride. He doesn't even try to read me, he thinks he knows me. But he doesn't know me. I have lived in france, I have been forced to deal with French institutions from my childhood. Dealing with french byrocracy is only slightly better than physical torture so my dear boy, unless you have a waterboarding device in your bag, you can't do anything to me that my french schoolteacher hasn't done already.

"I think we can manage with a small fine," says the chief of police, "do you want to go to the police station, or do you want to wait for your girl?"
He wants money of course, and I am not ready to give him anything. I think he wants 500 soms, it would be fair if I was really an illegal imigrant but now it is out of the question. I decide to play the card of the honest and selfless american hero. I like that role very much because it's almost the opposite of what I am.
"I would like to wait for my friend of course but I know I have done wrong. I respect Kyrgyzstan too much, and I am incredibly sorry to cause you problems. I know my place is at the police station."

The fat guy explains to me that I will go to jail and that jails are very uncomfortable here in Kyrgyzstan and I thank him from my heart for this good information and I tell him: "if such is my place, let me go to jail."
I thank my english teacher for theater courses, they are proving very useful.

Nata is very late and after two hours of waiting they lose patience and we are going to the police station. I manage to negociate that the border guards call the fat chief of police when she crosses the border. I just hope she'll cross at Merke and not Korday.
In the car, there is another guy. He is pale with stress, he is Uzbek, he is here without registration, he too, is going to be deported or so they say.
"Call your friends and family," the chief of police tells us.
The Uzbek guy rings his mother and wife. "Make sure you tell them the chief of police of 10th district has arrested you"

"The chief of police of 10th district has arrested me," says the Uzbek guy.
The fat chief then takes his phone and explains the situation making sure his title doesn't go unnoticed.
"What about you?" He turns to me.
"Oh no, I can't call my parents now, they would be too worried. It is my fault and I am the only one responsible"
I just love throwing stereotypical quotes in a real conversation, it makes my day. Of course I am stresed, a little bit afraid even but my curiosity is way stronger: what will this guy do with me? How does deportation work from the inside? For me, this is still a game, a story inside the big story of my trip.
I tell the chief of police my story, that I live for a dollar per day, that I met a girl in Karakol, she's Kyrgyz, we could even marry someday.
He doesn't see the contradiction between me giving him money and me living for a dollar per day. Either he is more stupid that I thought or he thinks I have made the whole thing up.
A friend calls me, he wants to know if we can meet in Bishkek for an english course. I explain to him that I have problems at the border. The chief of police tells me to make sure that I tell him he is the chief of police of 10th district which I don't do of course.
"I don't want to scare him sir, chief of police that sounds too impressive," I say to him.
I am starting to know his type. He is pretentious, he wants people to admire him. He also wants me to defend my case, to say that my Czech identity card is enough, he wants me to try to negociate so he can refuse everything and destroy all my attemps. Then he wants to come with his solution which is tp give him a lot of money together with warm thanks.
But I will not do this. I will go in the direction of my doom as far as he pushes me to. I will refuse all the bribes and play the american hero because "I respect Kyrgyzstan too much to do anything unlawful." Let's see what cards he plays.

"Where is your Natasha, can you call her?"
"She is in Kazakhstan with a russian phone, it's very expensive, she'll call me once on the border"

He goes on to check my handbag. There is a camera, my gps beacon and my pepper spray.
"I'd like to keep that if you don't mind", I tell the police guy, "I still don't know if you really are a police officer. You might be a gangster posing as one. It's really a pity but my friends already got robbed like that."
He lets me my things. He doesn't reprimand me for the GPS beacon which he could confiscate as a spy device. I just told him it is a GPS, he isn't surprised that it doesn't have a screen.
Next to me, the Uzbek guy is looking pretty awful. He is not playing a game as I am, his job is at stake and probably his only way how to feed his family.
We arrive at the police station, we sit in a dirty office. There is a bed, a computer and some chairs. The chief of 10th district sits on a chair, the chair breaks because he is too fat and he falls on the ground. I humbly ask him wheather he wants my chair but he managed to repair the first one and sit again. It works.
He starts interogating the Uzbek guy.
"So you are here without registration. That's a really fucked up situation, I don't know what to do. I think we'll have to deport you..."
"I know... what can I do? I just want to find a solution..."

But the chief of police likes to see people suffer.
"I know, I know but look at your passport... is that even a passport? You could be a spy for what I know. I really can't help you."
He is interrogating the poor guy while I am in the room. I don't know why I have to be in the room, maybe the process is supposed to intimidate me. Yeah, it does a little but at the same time, the chief of police also shows me how an interrogation works. Now I know what questions he will ask me, he lets me time to prepare and that is stupid.

The only smart thing he actually does, is letting me wait for long minutes and hours, all that time I don't have a clue what will happen with me. Will they really try to deport me? Will I go to jail? Will they release me? But I have rougly the same troubles when dealing with the french institutions. The mistake that I must not make is ask him to clarify the situation. Of course he will not clarify anything because there is nothing to clarify, making me wait and stress is just his tactic. By asking I will simply confirm that his tactic works. So I sit and wait. Unfortunately, all my money is in my wallet in my pocket, about $150 dollars and the same amount in soms, way more than the fat chief of police could hope for. I ask to go to the toilet, they let me. There is another guy in the room, some assistant. He accompanies me to the toilet, just so I don't run away. I have actually considered it. They only have my identity card, my bag is at Igor's place and I have my computer and electronics with me. I take all my money from my wallet leaving only a hundered som, the gift from my ride to the border. I shove everything in my shoes and come out. The guy isn't here anymore, I am supposed to find my way. I could run and maybe I will another time but I still hope for the perfect score: no money from me and my identity card back.
I come back, they didn't expect any less of my american hero character.

"You seem like a good guy," says the chief of police to the Uzbek, "You have a choice. If you play by my rules, nobody will bother you understand? I can fine you for 500 soms. Nobody will bother you again in this neighbourhood because I control things here. Nobody will go against my authority, nobody will arrest you."
That is a corrupt cop speech if I ever saw one. He looks at me.
"From this guy, I can take more because he is a foreigner."
It really seems like this chief of police is dumb, didn't he just hear my story? I travel for a dollar per day, what does he think he can get from me? Anyway, he is going to be dissapointed.
Meanwhile, the Uzbek guy calls his mother, his wife, the wife even comes to the police station with her baby in her arms. I still didn't call anybody except some people to cancel my english lessons. The chief of police starts being a bit thrown off balance by my lack of panic.
"You should at least call Nata," he says
"I don't want her to worry. You know women, they worry too much."
"Don't you think she will worry if you are in jail?"
"I'll wait until she calls me"

At 2PM, Nata crosses the border. I get a phone call.
"Give me the phone, give me the phone!" says the Chief of Police
I ignore him and try to explain the situation to Nata as calmly as possible.
"I'm waiting at the border, where are you?"
"I'm at the police station"
"Oh great..."
I tell her that my best bet is if she goes to Bishkek and brings my passport. However Nata is Nata and she only plays by her own rules. She is going to the police station. The chief of police is happy with that decision because he has one more candidate to scare off. He can't extort money from me, he will try to get it from Nata. But poor chief of Police doesn't know that in extreme situations, me and Nata are a pair to be feared. Last time an asshole was threatening us, in Armenia, we made a scene he will not forget so soon. The chief thought Nata was his salvation, he has just opened the Pandoras box. I almost feel sorry for him.
"She hasn't any money you know, she had come all this way by hitchhiking"
"She... what? What's wrong with you people. Call your parents."
"They are in France, it is really expensive to call there and I don't think it works from a Kyrgyz phone anyway. Plus, I have done wrong, my parents don't have to pay for my mistakes"

The only problem is that Nata's phone balance has died before I could tell her where is the police station. The chief of police is furious.
"I told you to give the phone to me!"
"You can call her from your phone," I tell him. But the chief of police doesn't want to. He came here to make money, not to spend a cent. However he calls the border to tell Nata to come to Ponfielovka police station.

Nata comes. She is as beautiful as the legend says and she has a worried face.
"They say they are going to deport you, is that a joke?"
"Kind of... not quite," I say timidly realising that I am actually more afraid of Nata than of the chief of police.
"What the hell did you do again? I'm going to kill you!," says Nata. She turns to the chief of police, "Let him go, he is not a spy, he is just stupid, he has his passport in Bishkek"
"I told you not to make her worry," I say to the chief of police, "Now she's going to kill me, now I hope I will go to jail. Please throw me in!"

The chief of police is thrown off balance even more. Nata is not behaving at all like the poor Uzbek's wife who is sitting silently calling friends at relatives to tell them the big chief of 10th rayon has successfully aprehended her husband.
I trust Nata completly. She has her moments when she can be self-centered but when the situation is important, I could hardly find a better ally.
Me and Nata we talk in english. I explain to her that they are just trying to use her to get money, to not believe anything they say. English is such a great language, you can be sure nobody will understand it in a ten kilometer radius.

The chief of police's assistant types something in his computer, prints a piece of paper with something in russian written on it. He starts reading my sentence.
"Mister Filip Novotny has been caught without his passport near the border with Kazakhstan bla bla bla..."
I listen until he finishes his long paragraph. He obviously likes to read official papers, it makes him feel important. That guy sounds more and more like a stereotype from an american movie.
"Do you agree with what I just told?", he asks
"I am sorry but my russian isn't that good, I couldn't understand everything, maybe if you read more slowly"
The chief is a little dissapointed that his official verbiage didn't have any effect on me because of language barriers. It seemed to have a huge effect on the Uzbek guy.

"Do you want to sleep at the police station or do you want to leave with your girl. I can see she loves you very much."
Obviously he didn't listen to anything from my heartbreaking story about me dating a Kyrgyz girl who heroically works in Siberia. I am dissapointed, I put my heart into that story and I like having an attentive audience. But on the other hand I also didn't listen to his official bullshit so I guess we have a communication problem.
"Say goodbye to your girl, " says the chief of police, "you are going to jail and she must leave."

So that is his tactic! He lets me see the girl and make her leave hoping that my emotional attachment will make me have a change of heart. He really doesn't have any morals but he is also dumb. I was in that situation before Nata came, when Nata leaves I will be in the same exact situation, that is... without Nata. My only concern if for Nata's safety and I trust she will be safe at Irgor's place.
This guy really doesn't have a clue about who I am. Nor does he have a clue about who is Nata.

"I am not going anywhere!," says Nata firmly, "if he goes to jail I am going with him!"
Nata is even more of an american hero than I am. The chief of police wanted money, he got himself two tenants. He is starting to realize the situation is not playing to his advantage.
"I have my bag in the taxi's truck," says Nata, "can you make a decision quick, I told him only to wait fifteen minutes." My poor chief, you may be the king of your little dry land here but looks like I eat you for lunch and Nata for breakfest. And that's quite a performance actually considering how fat you are.
Meanwhile the assistant tries to hit on Nata a bit but she completly ignores him.

"I don't have time for that!" says the chief of Police. "Filip you come with me, we are going to deport you."
"Allright," I say calmly and I just give Nata Igor's phone number.
I follow the chief of assholes down the stairs where he looks at me with frustration and just says: "ok. You may go. But just because your girl is beautiful"

And that is how my deportation failed.