Three families: Chingiz' version

Today we are hosted by our last family: Chingiz, his wife and his parents. If you still remember from before, Chingiz is the guy with the military coat. He's always happy and as Ilona says, also looks a bit like an Anime character.

We take forever to get away from Kairad partly because it's really hard to separate me from the internet. Chingiz had an idea:

"I told my wife she doesn't have to cook today," he says, "because you two are cooking traditional Czech food."
"Whaat??"

We don't even know what the ingredients are called in russian, actually we don't even know if they exist. Most of them don't exist and Ilona is switching recipies. After a while she decides to cook chicken on paprika but with curry instead of paprika.

We overeat again and again with Ilona's food and our food. Me and Chingiz repair the starter.He shows me how to dismantle the old grudzavik, truck from soviet times which eats 30 liters per 100 kilometers. He is sick of having to start it with an iron bar, he would like to use a key as a normal person.

We exchange stories while he repairs the car. Chingiz has studied at a university to be some kind of engeneerin logistics. He's worked for the state for some time, building roads I think but here, there is no point of working for the state. If you added up Chingiz' expenses at that time and his salary, he was paying more than he was being given. The state doesn't care about salaries low to the point of nonsense because people usually compensate by being corrupted or making they own resources on a farm. Chingiz wants to go to America to have a better job, work fora year, return home and build a house that would really be eurostandart, even more than Adlet's house.

"I want a house with a toilet inside the house!", he says proudly. Here, toilets are located in the cornet of the garden. They are just shit pits and this one is pretty far. In the summer, there is no problem getting there but in the winter, with the snow and all, it must be pretty unconfortable.

Chingiz talks in russian but he knows english. Deep down, somewhere in his mind, english is there in an archive and wants to get out. So we speak english, russian and more and more english. He's smart, the language comes back.

"Aren't youa afraid about your relationship when you and your wife will be separated for a year?", I ask. Chingiz says that if she cheats on him he'll kill the guy but we both know he wouldn't. He is just saying that not to lose face according to Kyrgyz standarts. He's fine with me, I won't judge him because he doesn't kill people. Chingiz is actually a really sweet guy. He is honest with his friends and he considers us as such. He says we can trust him and we do, completly.

He's 23, he says but later it turns out that that's a lie, he's 22 and a little complexed about his age. He doesn't have anything of a 22-year old in europe. This guy is an adult with a  job and family, he knows how to get his way in life.

He explains to us how he used to be a playboy with Kairad and Adlet. Not Edil though, he was too shy, never had a clue about how to get a girl. Now they're all married and these days are over. They figure they have tried everything, why destroy their family now. For Chingiz and I think for all of his friends, his family is important. We really can talk about everything with Chingiz. There is the language barrier of course but our russian is getting better and his english too. I tell him about our travels and he wants to travel too.

"I'd leave with you on the spot if I hadn't had a family to take care of."

That's one of the reasons that marriage doesn't make sense to me. Except one with Nata because we have exactly the same view on relationships. The rare thing about Nata is that while everything is hard, everything is possible.

We actually talk about Nata with Chingiz. She says the village just lost their english teacher and they need a new one. But good english is rare among these people. I don't know if Chingiz american dream is realistic. Working in America is a common wish among these people, they don't really think about other countries. We promise to help Chingiz if he comes to europe. We really have to. He is smart, motivated and hard working, he has the right to succeed. But everybody has the right to succeed don't they?

We go buy ingredients for dinner. Ilona tries to describe them and the locals shake their heads in surprise: what does she want, is that girl crazy?
Chingiz wants to pay for everything and Ilona too. They make a compromise by buying some stuff at the market and taking the rest from Chingiz' shop (his family runs a local shop situated just outside of his house).

Of course, Ilona also wants to pay for the stuff we take from Chingiz' shop. Chingiz starts feeling a little embarassed. That's the eternal struggle between Ilona and hospitality. Ilona doesn't feel right if she doesn't pay and the locals feel insulted if she pays. But as always, me and Ilona talk about our problems, we rarely hold a grudge. This time is no different. We have an amazing communication. In the end, I win, we don't pay for the food from the shop.

"You need your money more than we do.", says Chingiz. It is true now but we better remember it will be exactly the opposite when he comes to Europe.

Ilona makes dinner. It takes a while to combine all the exotic ingredients and cooking tools into a Czech meal. She says despite everything, Kyrgyzstan is the closest country to Czech republic judging by the fruits and vegetables that grow here.

The dinner is a complete success. The whole family is thrilled. Chingiz is displaying the anime smile he is known for.

The first night we sleep great, we have our own room, everything is perfect.

The next day we're still at Chingiz. We can't get away from him, he's such a great guy. He isn't our exotic Kyrgyz anymore he's a friend. I'm not afraid to joke with him and the other way around. Well, the other way around was always there, the Kyrgyz cannot live without sarcasm.

We go to the lake. By foot. By foot? Chingiz cannot believe his ears. It's 4 kilometers by foot, that's unthinkable! He has a sportive silouhette of a hard working healthy guy who probably knows Kung fo better than Jackie Chan  but he cries when he has to do a kilometer without his car.

"You know if you were my Kyrgyz friends from Bishkek I'd just tell you you're crazy and you'd go alone!", he later says after we go back under the shining sun.

We drag poor Chingiz to the lake where we swim (the water is cooold, says Chingiz) but he likes to take pictures. We talk about a lot of things, including Kyrgyz girls. Chingiz says the Kyrgyz female openness is somewhere between Turkey and France, Turkey being the absolute minimum and Russia probably being a sex paradise.

Ilona thinks girls shouldn't have sex the first night as some Kyrgyz girls do (it's a more rare behaviour in Czech republic and France), she sees it as a lack of respect to herself. Chingiz can understand that but he is surprised when Ilona things the same thing about men.

"Cultures are different", he says with his anime smile.

I on the other hand would never critisize nor dare to spoil the local fantasy of the russian girl. Every person does what they want, there is no need to shame anyone. No need to complicate any type of relationship, they are complicated by nature. Later however, instead of putting Kyrgyzstan between turkey and france in terms of female openness, I would put it between France and Czech Republic.

Chingiz' wife has some friends over. One of them speaks Kyrgyz and Russian and the other one speaks German and some english. She is just great. Smiley girl full of energy, she is curious and just shines at everything around. It's hard to speak german though. My brain just hurts from all the languages.

Some friends come over

We are going shooting again with the guys.

"Can we go with you?", says the German speaking girl, "I'd love to shoot!"

I wouldn't bet much on it. Guys organize activities between guys, usually girls are not allowed. Sometimes, even Ilona is not allowed and she is a host! But this time Kairad says yes! Because appearently there is a huge difference between a girl who is married and one who is not. Wives stay at home, live in a way that could be labeled conservative by european standarts. Unmarried girls however are free as the wind, they're educated, usually curious and open-minded. They stay this way even after marriage but you can see that they've very suddenly entered a different world.

We shoot a bottle with Kairad's and Chingiz' rifle.

Just keep your head back and your elbow steady

I, and the two Kyrgyz girls miss, Ilona, Chingiz and Kairad all blow the bottles like confettis. I can't find the viewfinder on that thing, it's so tiny. Chingiz has a calibre 12 rifle, his elbow hurts from the shots. There is something a little wrong with the rifle too, he says, I'm kind of glad it doesn't explode.

The Kyrgyz girl who speaks german shoots for the first time. She's as afraid as I was but comes through. This is not a shooting range, this is Kyrgyz style.

We quickly run out of ammunition and go back, it's cold anyway. 

Asian chicks with guns in Kyrgyzstan. Can you imagine something cooler than that?

We go back to Kairad's place. It's a little late but we have to say goodbye. We're going to Ala-Keul lake tomorrow. Kairad tells us stories about a woman who was raped nearby Karakol and who appears all bloody to drivers. She seems to hitchhike by the road and when nobody takes her she moves to the middle of the road waiting to be ran over. In the ambiance of the night, it is scary.

Chingiz also tells us, a little embarrassed that he things his home is haunted. That is why they leave a light in the hallway because several times he felt footsteps on the ceiling, the previous owner of the house or something. Several people have heard them, he figures but they don't talk about it much.

"If I had another home, I would have moved you there", he says.

They have called an exorcist about ten years ago and appearently nothing has happened since. And while everything sounds scary, I have the impression that the local culture is a little bit more superstisious than ours.

We go back to Chingiz. The Bania is heated. The bania is the local way people wash themselves. They started having it in Kazakhstan. Here, people don't take showers or baths. Once about every week, they heat a bania and the whole family goes there in turns. A bania is a bit like a hammam. It's a room heated by a stone stove and a lot of vapour. There is a tap with boiling water and a few containers with cold water. You are supposed to mix the water to the right temperature and wash yourself by pouring water on yourself with a cup. Usually people take forever to bathe in a bania and it also takes quite a lot of time to heat it up. Therefore, Kyrgyz people only wash about once a week, at least in villages which puts us on a similar hygene level with the locals. As travellers, this doesn't happen very often.

While we wait, we have a philosophical discussion with Chingiz. We are sad beacause we have to leave. And we can have philosophical discussions in russian now. Plus, Chingiz' english is getting better by the minute. We talk about friendship, relationship, trust.

"I would rather be hated by someone because I didn't do what he asked of me than hate someone because I didn something for him and he screwed me over", says Chingiz.

We talked about his relationship with his wife and mine with Ilona. When travelling so close together, a relationship can go different ways. Ours has gone towards a brotherly friendship in a way that is so natural that it is disturbing. And I am actually very glad about that. I don't know how I could have handeled a romantic relationship with Ilona. Probably not very well. And thank god I can freely look at all these beautiful asian girls!
We have talked about our relationship a few times with Ilona because we talk about everything. And it turns out we are both glad about it and it's crystal clear. Not just saying that, really. 

We are transfering photos to Chingiz and therefore we have a censorship session. I didn't write about it much but each time I am about to publish a picture of her on our blog or facebook she approves it or rejects it. It is extremely important for her, she doesn't want any unwanted photo on the internet.
Chingiz is very surprised by that attitude, he wants an explanation for every rejected photo.

"Cultural differences", he says with a smile.

Another cultural difference arises from my side when I refuse to go to the bania with him. Here people go to wash together, in pairs, sometimes in three or four. In by book, I bathe alone. Chingiz shakes his head in amusement. Crazy europeans.

 We sleep in our haunted room but nothing disturbs us. Today is the first day at school. Children prepare into the traditional Kyrgyz uniforms. They are pretty with a lot of laces, little children look cute in them.

Chingiz' family, first day at school. The red hair girl is a friend.

However they put the same costume on girls who are in last grade, at 18 or 19 which has a very different effect. It makes them look like porn stars parading the streets of Ananyevo.

We leave our friend with thoughts of wonder in our head. He's a wonderful person and yes, he's a friend. We make a lot of empty invitation but this one is real. We want to see him in europe.

And last one with rifles!

Three families: Kairad's version

The guys insisted we should stay at each of their families at least for one night. I thought it would be a problem for Ilona but she accepted gladly. Next person to recieve us should be Kairad and after him, Chingiz.
Kairad's home wasn't as luxurious as Adlet's judging by the local criteria. It was quite far from eurostandart. There were no decoration and no big screen TV. But for me, it was the most luxurious of all because it had a room with six computers, internet and wifi.
See, Kairad was the proud owner of an internet café, the only one in the village. It was a very unusual and, judging by the results, very smart business move he had thought about since the age of twelve. Not only was he the only gateway for the kids to play video games, he often was the village only connection to the internet. People were ligning up from sunrise to sunset. First, small kids went there to play counter strike. Then teenagers stayed late into the night.
"I think there were still some kids when I locked up", Kairad had said last night when we went partying, "but they have enough water for the night, I just hope they won't want to pee"
He wasn't kidding. Every now and then, he locked up the wooden door with kids inside who were too addicted to the current video game. They just ran out the next day to their parents. Don't get hung up on the details, everybody gets what they want, everybody's happy.
And for us, it's wifi unlimited in our room.
This coincidence is especially useful when we're stuck in this visa hell with china. China has closed borders from 13.th of August to foreigners. They only allow requests from Kyrgyz citizens or people who have a 1-year visa in Kyrgyzstan.
Ilona is thinking about going to Armenia more and more. Not me though. I have no static point to relate to. My most static point in the neighbourhood is Nata and she is as mobile as a feather in the wind.
My first option is to try to get a useless 1 year Kyrgyz visa just to be able to ask for a chinese one.
My second option is to cross to Kazakhstan again and then to tranzit to mongolia through Russia. Hopefully, they'll give me a chinese visa in Mongolia, it's a more touristically accepted destination than Kyrgyzstan.
My third option is to cross to China illegally. I don't think I want to do it.
Chingiz calls some number in russian to explain our situation. He figures there is still hope.
He is really kind to us. All of the guys are. But Chingiz makes a point of not seeing us bored. He shows us the village, goes to the market with us. Kairad is having a hangover from last night. No kidding.
His wife doesn't speek russian. She speaks English and Phillipino so she's quite isolated here. She can only speak to Kairad. Chingiz speaks some english too but they rarely speak between girls and guys. She always has this beautiful shining smile on her face. Maybe the Philipinos always smile, maybe they smile more when the situation is hard. They have a daughter and I am curious the languages she will speak.
They speak english to her at home but she keeps hearing Kyrgyz and Russian all around. Will she be trilingual from the start?
We have already eaten a huge breakfest before moving our bags to Kairad. But this wouldn't be Kyrgyzstan it we didn't get a breakfest from our new hosts. As I said, Kairad might speak like a Czech and act as a european from time to time, he has Kyrgyz blood and he will give us breakfest no matter what and also a double lunch. Hospitality is an important trait here and everything is so delicious. I wouldn't eat better on a 1000 dollar touristric budget.

Kairad amazes us with his stories from here and the Czech republic. He told us about facing racism in Europe, being labeled Chinese because he has slanty eyes, always having to fight with the Ukrainians who were running the construction business and seeing him as a too exotic liability.
He told us about the mafia, the corruption, lots of stuff. It's almost impossible for a foreigner to find a regular job in europe; our system is so complicated and the byrocracy so endless that the mafia is the only viable solution. I am not surprised at all, I can't even begin to understand how a Kyrgyz national, with only Kyrgyz qualifications, even if he speaks english, could find a regular job in France.
In the morning, children begin to knock on the door and they keep doing so until the evening. Counter-strike doesn't wait and doesn't care about hangovers.
"Stupid kids," curses Kairad, "I could write that we are closed on the door, it wouldn't make any difference. They would have climbed over the fence to get to the computers"

Kids playing counter-strike, little do they know there is a real version of their virtual gun nearby

In the afternoon me and Kairad prepare ammunition. We take the old shells, clean them, carefully replace the primary explosive and put the powder inside.
Kairad is a smart person with a lot of ambition. He used the money he made in europe to buy a house and invest in some businesses. Unfortunatelly, he got crossed by his own family. He was about to pull out a gun on them, Kyrgyz style, but changed his mind, he has a kind heart too.
He is fiercly pursuing his american dream, a motivator of many people here: "Salam new york" is a movie you should see.

Kairad is tired from yesterday's party, he wants to sleep early and we both are glad for that decision. Before, however, Chingiz is taking us to the field with his car which is closer to a soviet tank than to a normal truck. It eats about 30 liters for 100 kilometers and it can drive through anything. We driver through the hills on a mountain road. Up there, we meet some of Chingiz' extended family, about fifteen of them. They have produced a few joints and are smoking the Kyrgyz super strong hash that grows everywhere in the region. I feel safe with Chingiz but not with these people. I just take a puff and quickly blow it out from my lungs. The others take enormous puffs. I'd get high like never before had I followed them. And it would be another paranoia crisis. After they finished the joints, instead of falling down, stoned as bricks, they started gathering packs of dried grass for cattle to eat and sell in the city. Around 100 of them, 200 euros in total.

On our way back, we went to see Chigiz grandfather. Many people were there and we got a second or third dinner, I lost count. We will really die of too much food. I'm used to Ilona who can't eat more but I can't either. And each time it's just "let's drink tea". The irony of it is that the food is so deliscious I eat tons of it even if I don't want to. The starter of the car stops working. Shit, how will we get to Kairad? Chingiz start the car with some twisted iron bar. Why not. With children locked up for the night in the internet café, we go to sleep.

Three families: Adlet's version

I am getting worse and worse. We pitch our tent next to Issy-keul lake, grigoryevka village. In the middle of our last ride, I stop communicating. I fear Ilona cannot follow with her russian but she does. She does well. She takes things into her hands and builds the tent alone. I realize how impossible would this situation be had I travelled alone.
I fall onto my mattress and sleep. Let the world have it's way. And the world does. A storm hits us hard. Curtains close.
The next day, I wake up. We have to move camp. Water is almost leaking into our camp and there is a lot of disgusting garbage. I barely manage to move myself and my stuff. We camp next to a river of potable water. Some kids steal our medecine. If I really got the bubonic pleague now, there is no way to cure me. Our antibiotics are gone.
The kids come back, they give our medicine back. They let us ride a donkey. They ask a lot of question, show us their sheep and whatever. I feel a little better and then I feel even worse. We make tea and I throw up everything.
Then it really gets better. At last. We decide to hitchhike towards Karakol to build that base.
"I know a guy in Kyrgyzstan who speaks Czech", says our driver
"Seriously?"
He gives us the phone. His name is Kairad and he has been living in Czech Republic for five years. Now he has gone back to Kyrgyzstan with his wife from the phillipines. He met her in a club in Prague.
"It's Edil's birthday", says our driver when he drops us to the lake.

This happy party stole our medicine!

Edil is the kind of guy you would expect to chop heads witgh an axe. He has a kind heart and is turning 24.
"Czeeech repuublic!!!", he welcomes us, "Milan Barosh!! Come drink with us!"
I have been feeling well for about ten minutes overall and there comes another vodka. The food is deliscious. I forget the warnings not to eat Shashlik because our region is under quarantine. The important thing is I don't throw up when I eat.
"You need two glasses of vodka if you want to swim in the lake"

Go and swim in the lake!

"We don't want to swim in the lake. It's fucking freezing!"
We didn't swim in the lake but we drunk another glass. And a third one because Edil was 23. A fourth because he turned 24. Then Ilona drunk a fifth.
"Wanna try some haaashish?", says a guy with a military coat, "try it and you'll be ouaaaaaaaaah"

Kairad, Adlet, Edil and me

I was already drunk enough not to mix anything with marocan hash. I would die if the hash was iranian and I can't even imagine what Kyrgyz super strong marihuana would do to me. Plus, I didn't trust the guy, he just appeared at me from the dark. I didn't know yet that we have just met the sweetest and trustworthy person in a long time.
We talk to Kairad in Czech most of the time. His Czech is really good. He is smart and looks like a cute little character from some japanese Anime movie or so Ilona says.
He tells us about his stories in Czech Republic. He spent most of his time working like crazy on construction sites and the rest of his time fighting in bars. He didn't look like it but I had no trouble believing him when he described how he and his friend Vashek broke noses and teeth of guys bigger then them. He was skilled in kickboxing and while he has been out of practice for some time, he was nothing but muscle.
"And if they become too agressive," he says, "I gun them down"
Kairad has a gun, as many Kyrgyz do. But not just any gun. His rifle is an antique piece from the fifties for which he makes home-made ammunition.
But since he couldn't carry it all the way to Czech republic, number of his opponents suffered broken teeth instead of broken skulls.
He seemed so close to us, so close to home, I could have called him brother but time has taught me to judge carefully. Kairad might be sweet and nice, he is still a Kyrgyz with all the cultural differences and I should be careful not to overstep.
The next guy looked a little sophisticated, he was observing us from afar, it's like he was measuring who we are. His name is Adlet and he is one of the four friends. They know each other from childhood years: Adlet, Kairad, Chingiz and Edil. Adlet is "the rich guy" because he owns hudge parcels of land and countless sheep. He is working hard on his domain with very little help and until now, it has been a success.
He is humble, smart, and respectful. You can see he's struggeling with the difference of him being rich. He wants to be a simple person, with both feet on the ground, he wants to be with his friends but his wealth is driting him away a little. Here in Kyrgyzstan, showing wealth is important. It appears everywhere: on your car, in your house, on how you dress. Adlet's car is an exception, a display of humility. The holy grail the boys want to achieve is too have a home which is "eurostandart". It basically is a home that looks like what they think an european home looks like: a big house with a lot of overly expensive decorations. And Adlet's house is almost eurostandart. Exept that it's really decorated with taste.
"I'll take you home," he says after a while. I would prefer going to Kairad because of the language but mostly, I am curious, I want to get see another Kyrgyz home, a Kyrgyz family and this Adlet seems like a cool guy.
"Poydom, chay popyom." And we end up eating a delicious giant dinner. Adlet's wife is an energic, smart and action-packed. She would like to travel or do something but taking care of children and Adlet's family just takes too much time. I think it's the case of many women here. Incredible potentials targeted only at making families. Weird.
The women stay at home, says Adlet and we go to the hot springs. It's healing water they say but since georgia pretty much everything is healing water, healing air, healing food, healing horse milk.
These hot springs are special because they let out a lot of Radon. Radon is radioactive if you wouldn't know. You cannot stay more than 15 minutes without starting to feel dizzy, they say. We drink a lot of vodka while they fill the giant stone pools with hot spring water. It is kind of a touristic center mostly used by the locals. There are several pools that take at least one hour to fill. The access is paid but the guys pay for me as I am their guest.
It's a radon hot spring bath under the shining stars.
"This is effing romantic," I say to the guys, "I just wish you were beautiful Kyrgyz girls instead". I think they agree.
The water is so relaxing. These healing things don't work on me usually but this time there is definitly someting. Maybe I'm just getting radon poisoning.
Kairad's head is starting to spin. "This is cool but I think I am loosing all my energy. Fuck, I can't even have sex after this bath!"
He's right, the water makes you kind of just want to lie and sleep. We drink more vodka and beer. The guy in the military coat talks about weed which I still can't try at this point. He's not as dangerous as I thouhgt. He is smart and comprehensive. I like him.
We talk about stuff, about trust, about girls. The guys seem to find it unacceptable that I didn't date or at least sleep with a Kyrgyz girl yet. I can't agree more but I just hope the number they just gave me isn't a prostitute. Anyway everybody's drunk and doesn't know half of what they're talking about.
"Us guys, we're professional. We can seduce any girl. Especially Kairad. But not Edil, Edil, he doesn't have a clue what he's doing, we make all fun of him", explains the guy in the military coat. But now, their seducing days are over. They've all got beautiful wives and are not risking to destroy their families by doing anything stupid. Vodka or not vodka, these guys are solid in their words and acts.
We drink again and we go home. Edil is driving 160km/h in the dark, drunk, on a badly looking road. "Slow down man, I still care about my life," says the guy in the military coat. Edil slows down. We stop near the village, Kairad pulls out a rifle. It's an old rifle from the fifties, nothing you would easily find in europe.
Edil shoots in the air while the others back away a little for fear of the home-made ammunition to explode.
"I made seven rouds today," says Kairad, "I think they'll allright"

Just hold your head up and pull the trigger!

We planned to eat that watermellon but it would serve better for target practice. I am glad, I am sick of always eating watermellons from the beginning of Kazakhstan.
Kairad shoots, I shoot, we miss. I was too afraid to aim anyway but the gun doesn't have so much of a kick. The rounds seem powerful though. The guy in the military coat blows the watermellon to pieces.
"This is how you shoot!", he says with a victorious smile. That guy is allright. And his name is Chingiz.

Ruslan

Ruslan picks us up in the evening. We barely have time to fold our tent.
"Come on, quick before the night falls!"
I am even more tired and I feel sick. But I guess I have no choice; if I want to reover, better do it in a confortable place. Ruslan has a big home with a spare room. Usually he saves it for guests who pay. In this part of Issy-keul lake, tourists are common and every second house is a hotel. Today however the room is free for us to stay as long as we want.
"Let's drink tea," he tells us.
We learn that "let's drink tea" in Kyrghyzstan means let's eat. It's an invitation you cannot refuse because who wouldn't spend a minute for a cup of tea. We will later fall into that trap and end up eating double breakfests, double lunches and double dinners.
After eating dinner, Ruslan guides us to the beach to drink some vodka and welcome us to our new home.
He doesn't like vodka, it's obvious when you look at his face each time he drinks a shot. Chances are he even hates vodka more than us but tradition is tradition. We have to drink at least a glass per person and say toasts.
Ruslan talks a lot but what he has to say is intersting. He tells us about the history of Kyrgycy stan. The country is said to be the only democracy in the region. Not hard to achieve when you compare it with neighbours. Around here we have Nazerbaiev 20 years in power in Kazakhstan, the evil Turkmen dictator and should I really start about the so called People's republic of China?
Like every democracy, Kyrgyzstan has been changing presidents and it hasn't really been lucky with the last two. The first one, has fled somewhere maybe in south america after stripping the country of virtually every resource of finance available. The next one has fled to Belarus after killing a bunch of people and accumulating a fair share of money too. There was a revolution and the current president seems to be less of an asshole if you believe Ruslan's words.
There also was a war with Uzbekistan near Osh because the Uzbeks wanted to create a marihuana route through part of Kyrgyzstan.
"The Uzbeks, they're two-faced liars. They'll hug you with one hand and cut you with the other."
He reckons Kyrgyz people are not that way, they're open and honest. I guess the Uzbeks have a different side of the story but until now he seems to be right about the locals.
I still feel bad and Ilona too. We now have the information about the bubonic pleague spreading through the Karakol region. That includes us. We are under quarantine. And I seriously hope that we didn't catch whatever the media is talking about. On the other hand the media is known to talk nonsense, Iran is the living proof of that. So we're not afraid, not even stressed out. On this trip we have come to accept all things as they come and go.
Our plan is actually to get closer to Karakol to establish a base there. We both miss our appartment in Tehran and since there is little chance we someone would give us his or her house in Kyrgyzstan, we have decided to build something; some kind of rainbow camp.
"We'll wait for Theo, and when he comes it'll be a surprise", Ilona says.
"Yeah and we can light a fire made of marijuana because he's from Holland."
But first, we both have to get better.
Ruslan shows us to our room, he gives us privacy. We have all the space and time we want. It's a cultural trait we had in Kazakhstan but not that much in Iran or Turkey where people often forced their presence on us.

Yurt in Ruslan's garden

We sleep till late, our host respects that.
In the morning we have breakfest with his parents. We tell them our stories. I tell that I'm writing a book. Everyone wants to be in it. I write down names.
Since I don't want to dissapoint Ruslan by sleeping all day (because that is my dearest wish at the time), we go to the lake, I even swim a little. There is a Yurt in RUslan's garden. He also has a horse but we don't get too ride it.
We also find the internet. Bad news on there. The chinese just closed all borders for foreigners. You have to be a Kyrgyz resident or have a one year visa to even try to apply in Bishkek. Same problem in Uzbekistan and Taijikistan and pretty much all the stans. Theo is changing his route, he's going through India. I guess that's the route all tourists are supposed to take. Nobody wants us to make our own improvised itineraries through Kyrgyzstan and Xinjiang. Everybody should behave nicely, enter from india and visit Hong Kong and Shanghai.
Ilona has had enough.
"This trip is wonderful but I'm turning back. Sick from all this visa hell!"
It's a hard decision, one I just can't make. And I feel how difficult it is for her. We both have signs of depression. Fucking chinese!
As for me, I have moments of panic. I might end up alone. The idea of Nata joining me was someting I was curious about at first. Now however, it seems more important than ever. If she doesn't come, I'll be alone. I might find someone on the long run but nothing is certain. But I also know such fears will pass.
Ruslan finds us a local sim card. We'll spend a lot of time here so we surely need one. He'll check on us from time to time.
I am getting more and more sick, I'm just waiting to put a tent somewhere quiet and sleep for a year.

We are so tired

We leave Bishkek in the morning after a good breakfest. I feel tired, so tired altough we have slept in the best possible confort. There was a phone ringing all night so maybe that was it, who knows.

Our friend drives us to a good hitchhiking spot in the direction of Issyk-kul lake. We still don't know the region is experiencing a case of bubonic pleague but even if we know, I guess we wouldn't care. Two Kyrgyz are going straight to the lake, to a village called Tamchy and that is all we asked.

Two rough but happy looking Kyrgyz take it on themselve to aquaint us with the local traditions. One of them has married not so long ago.

"I abducted my wife", he tells us with a peak of pride in his voice

"You mean you asked for her hand, you dated right?"

"Kind of, then I abducted her."

"You mean against her will?"

"It's a tradition. I come ride to her, abduct her, she cries a little and but I hold her down firmly."

Yep, she cries, that was the word, we made it repeat several times. Appearently the long tradition of old nomadic Kyrgyz tribes hasn't evaporated completly. The husband doesn't ride a horse anymore, he comes with a car. He rides towards with beloved beaty and literaly kidnaps her. I figure he might get shot in the process by angry family members, these people don't wear gloves in physical communication. As we will later learn, carrying a gun is common practice and considering to use it on someone who hurts one's pride also.

After abducting his fiancee, he drives her towards his family home where the Babushkas, the grandmothers wait to put the traditional color-bright scarf on the wife-to be.

She will later learn to live with her kidnappers who forced her into the bridal outfit. She will become friends with them and live a happy life. And appearently she will manage it because women don't seem sad here. I can't say I understand the mechanics of the Kyrgyz culture but I wouldn't say women seem to overly suffer on the long run.

"I couldn't look my husband's family in the eye if they had done that to me", says Ilona. I also agree but we postpone judgement. This is still a country we do not understand.

Maybe that is what the Kazakh warned us about when they say Kyrgyzstan is dangerous.

What about the law? Our drivers tell us the law heavily condems this kind of practice but "if they call the police for me, I'll shoot them up like chicken", says the other Kyrgyz.

And I believe it wouldn't be the first time he would hold a rifle and wouldn't hesitate to defend what is, in his mindm rightfully his. From any european perspective you are now imagining us driving us with scary killers. We are not. We are driving with two caring and helpful guys. They reassure Ilona she will not be abducted, she is a tourist. Ilona replies that she will abduct a Kyrgyz guy, he won't know what's happened to him. They laugh, they have a sense of humour. They are start and honest guys, if we do not them any wrong they will not harm us, on the contrary they will do everything to help.

They keep a distance to make us feel safe. They respect our privacy, contrary to what people did in Armenia, Iran or Turkey. They are democrats.

They drive us to a local restaurant, we have to try horse milk, kumus. It tastes weird but allright. Some tourists throw up at the first taste, they say. We don't. The Kyrgyz are satisfied. It would be better if we did. My head starts spinning, I can barely walk. It has been spinning even before but now it's getting worse. Maybe it's the sun, maybe a reaction to the water, maybe the milk. Who knows.

The car races through the mountain roads. Nausea. We stop near the road. From both sides of the road the same plant grows. For meters, kilometers.

"Do you have that in europe?"

"Do you have that in europe?"

I really home Theo from amsterdamland will come to Kyrgyzstan. We could welcome him with a marihuana fire.

Of coursem, it is illegal here as it is in many countries. But it grows so naturally as a weed all around the country that banning marihuana would be like banning clouds from the sky.
We exit the car near the lake. Beatiful. Like sevan like but the mountains there, all 4000 meters. Snow on tops.

"Is this heaven?" Close enough.

Our friends leave us here and Ilona build a tent. Thank god for her, I can't do a thing. I just pull out a mattress and sleep. Sleep and sleep. We have some bread, some fruit (apples growing everwhere and a watermelon) and enough marihuana for a global anestesia if we wish. But I'm not hungry and I don't want anything. This is as far as my energy can get me. Curtains close.

Crows over our heads

To Kyrgyz without registration

Little do we know that when crossing the border with Kyrgyzstan, a case of plague has appeared near Issyk-Kul lake. Some fifteen year old boy ate some grilled meat and died. A lot of other people are in hospitals. Czech Republic advises all tourists to evacuate the country and when complied to stay there, to avoid the region of Issyk-kul lake, especially the surroundings of Karakol which will be put into quarantaine.
But we know nothing. We cross. Crowds of people are crossing into Kyrgyzstan like sheep. They are compressed like cattle into a formless crowd and are pushing forward. Police is there pushing backwards. I feel like a youghurt on a processing line. And I will be processed.
It will take a little more time to process me than to process a yoghurt because we are entering without registration.
We just didn't have the time and will to registrate at some office with a bunch of byrocrats in a big city. We might even had to pay for it. And we were kind of curious what will these idiots at the border do when we appear there with a soon invalid visa and without registration. They can't keep us otherwise we overstay our visa and they can't send us through because of their stupid byrocracy so what will win?

Children posing near the border

At first we hope they just won't care but they do. They ask for our registration and my russian level suddenly drops to zero. What a shame! A pattern begins to emerge, my language skills dramatically decrease at borders and passport checks. I can barely hold to my english.
Ilona is more stressed out than me on the border. She hoped we would pass without any checks but as we see everyone in the crowd holding their registration she is starting to doubt it. I am not afraid because I live in a country which breeds the most stubborn and annoying byrocrats the universe will ever know and no Kazakh, especially not this one in the passport control window will ever match the french.
"Davayte regystracyu"
"whaat?"
"Where your registration?"
"Whaat?"
"This thing." He shows me the same piece of paper the border guy gave us when entering Kazakhstan.
"We don't have. It's been less than a week"
"The limit 5 days. You must registration"
I'm amazed by his english by the way and yeah, I know it's 5 days but what can you do. Just let us through please. He sends us with our passports to some office where more happily looking officials explain to us that we should have registered but OK, it's not the end of the world, they'll let us through.
We go back to the passport byrocrat. We pass the message from the other officials but he says no way: you are not getting through without registration.
He makes us wait with our passports, he takes them, processes lots of people in front of us just to test our patience. But this game is a poor demonstration of a limited power. Had we been in france we would have been sent home or at least to the capital with a big fine and an obligation to register in the following two days or so.
After a while of not losing patience the evil byrocrat lets us through. We proceed to the Kyrgyz side where we are processed in two minutes. No visa needed, welcome to Kyrgyzstan.

border, kyrgyz side, a big mess

The sun is shining, it is burning.We are so tired. We want to stop but what can we do. We have nothing. No money, no food, just a little water. My head is spinning I don't know why. Ilona is feeling down too.
"Let's put a tent somewhere and sleep"
But there is no way to go, civilisation everywhere. It's not the endless steppes of Kazakhstan anymore. And the Kazakh have warned us: hide your tent, Kyrgyzstan is dangerous.
We get a ride to Bishkek, an entrepreneur who started from nothing and built a sewing company. You know the clothes that you wear and that are massivly imported from Asia? That's him. Two years ago he made his first investment and now he has about 40 machine and the same number of workers.
We felt like guest reviewers in a classroom when he opened the door for us and we saw the benches. Women are sitting there and sewing, sewing adidas sportswear.

Sewing adidas sportswear

Obviously you cannot afford such working force in europe but here is cheap.
 Our host seems a good kind of guy, his employees like him. He still has feet on the ground, he repairs broken machines, everything is well organised nothing goes to waste.

Children playing in the sewing atelier

At night, he brings us to his place, to his family. His wife seems to be a little taken aback, she doesn't want strangers in the house maybe. The children are really welcoming to us though. There are two babies and our host's brother. He is 14 and really likes us. He shows us gagnam style, kyrgyz version.
First time in Kygryzstan, nobody will kill us. We sleep comfortably but what will happen tomorrow. This is the end of the pathof deadly trinity. We are to stay two month here. There is no further direction. What will we do, what will we do? We have arrived to an intermediary destination, safe and sound but we are lost. I start feeling a little sick.

170 km/h with vodka

We are going around Ouzbekistan because they are too much of an assholes. They want a registration every 3 days. Kazakhstan wants it only once and we are not giving it to them.
This morning, I publish blog posts quietly on the computer besides a sleeping asian beauty. She doesn't wake up until the phone rings. They all sleep on carpets. On their beautiful colorful carpets.
In the morning they bring us 30 kilometers in our direction towards Oral. I call Orianne and ask her to check on Nata. Maybe I am a bit of a control freak but turns out Nata had the same idea and Orianne is already in contact with Nata. Interesting.

We get a lift to Oral. We are close to Russia, people drink vodka in this region, our driver says. We continue towards Aktobe. Nothing stops except an asshole who thinks the picture from cinderella from Disney on Ilona's notebook is sexy. How desperate can you get? He has one of those faces you just want to punch, has stupid sunglasses and spits all the time. After a while Ilona just decides to go away withou giving any reason. It's a good choice.
We try to stop anything that has wheels before that assholes comes here again and continue bothering us.

A truck stops. After the episode with our turkish drivers we prefer not to stop trucks on Kazakh roads. 10 kilometers of bad road can mean an hour more. 100km means end of party.
It's not any truck, this is Europe! I can see Latvia! I forgot how to say hello in latvian but this feels like home. The driver is young, his name is Alex and he is Belarussian. What's the difference, it is Europe! So far away, a bit of home. This is ironic I am calling Belarus home, I've never even set foot there.
But this guy has some aura, he has gone through something in his life. He has children somewhere but doesn't see them, he spends too much time working in Latvia. He gives us the impression that a tragedy of some sort occured in his life but we will never know. What we know is that we feel safe with this guy, safer than in a long time. He doesn't have an organised fridge and cooking tools as the turkish trucks have. But he gives us space and lets us make tea. He has a giant heart. We sleep in a tent tonight,

Today is the day we meet Andrezh. Andrezh, in his own words is the russian son of Kazakh nation. He must be two meters tall, the kind of guy who breaks walls in American films.
He must be sixty but well in shape and is accompained by two younger guys, about our age. They both seem to hold him in the greatest respect, especially the driver. The driver's name is Adlet and he doesn't like us very much. He would want to continue the road without stopping for us but Andrezh's word is veto:
"If we don't help them, who will?"
And in this tiny cosmos we are entering, you don't argue with Andrezh.
Andrezh is a the president of a company which builds roads. No need to say they are of great need in Kazakhstan. He made his business flourish in a spectacular way and earned a lot of money and respect. You could feel the respect in Adlet's way of talking to him. However, Andrezh is one of those leaders who does not abuse his position. His is to attached to the hard life he experienced beforehand to slip out of reality.
The third guy is Talgat. He doesn't have any problem with us, he is kind of funny. He is talkative, as opposed to the silent Adlet and the first reassuring presence I find in the car.
Before we hit the road, we eat and drink. Me and Ilona haven't eaten anything since yesterday evening and even yesterday we have skipped lunch.
The reasons for that is that after being robbed of our 20 dollars by the bus driver in Turkmenistan we have decided not to spend any money in order to keep our average down to 2 euros a day. That goal was achieved yesterday or the day before yesterday but there was still no point in exchanging into Kazakh money because we won't be staying in Kazkhstan that long anyway and our money would turn into useless pieces of paper.
So now we realy completly invitations, our budget is truly zero.

Andrezh serves us vodka. "Bad times are coming", I hear myself thinking but on the other hand I trust my alcohol training in Georgia and Armenia. And I'm sure these Kazakh are no match for them. I notice the bottle, it's merely 40% industrial vodka. Compared to what we were used to drink, this is water. Moreover, asians have this gene that makes them worse at drinking alcohol than us caucasians. They get a headache quicker.
So I play the guy shocked by so much drinking ("oh my god we are not used to that in europe!") but in reality, I am fine.

In a moment, we are on our way. We are in an air-conditioned jeep, Adlet runs it 170 km/h on Kazakh roads. Sometimes, he reaches 180. He is a top class driver, he has reflexes and intuition. Ilona admires his driving skills.
He almost never uses breaks. We are going towards Almaty 2300 kilometers from here. If we stay with this ride, we are finishing the big detour around Uzbekistan and will end up about 30 kilometers from the border with Kyrgyzia.
Most importantly it means that we are sure to cross Kazakhstan before our visa expires.

We stop for lunch. I tell them that I'm writing a blog and I intend to write a book. Andrezh gets serious: "Oh yeah you should write a book. Write about Kazakhstan. Do you need money for that?" No I don't but from now Andrezh gets fond of the idea. He gets my point and why I'm not travelling like a tourist. If I am to write a book, it has to reflect some kind of reality, some kind of emotions, some kind of raw truth and most importantly a fair amount of vodka.

"Davaj Filip 100 gramov vipyom, patom pajdom." (Come on Filip, we'll drink 100 grams and then we go.)
That's the phrase we'll hear over and over again.
The tradition of drinking in Kazakhstan is similar to that in Georgia and Armenia. You say toasts, you drink, you don't have to finish your glass but you have to finish the bottle. There are some small differences in which I won't go into.
When Andrezh talks about 100 grams, it means 100 grams of pure alcohol and that is the dose each person has to drink. Take for example a bottle of 1L of 40% vodka. It weighs about 1000 grams, 400 grams of which are alcohol. That bottle will be drunk by 4 people to achieve the dose of 100g/person which is a reasonable quantity for one meal.
We eat huge portions of meat. Here in Kazakhstan, they eat meat. Full bowls of meat and meat only with some onions in the mix. After meatless Iran, that sounds great. It also helps to calm down the vodka in our stomachs.
Andrezh has trouble getting up sometimes. He got shot in Afganistan by sniper fire. He was there for three months, building a hospital.
Adlet helps him, he doesn't want his help.
"Fuck that, I can get up on my own!"
Andrezh has travelled the whole universe he says and Kazakhstan is a hell of a great country. "Write that in your book!"
He was pretty drunk when we met him but now he's getting it on heavily with the vodka. I am starting to get over my limit too.
"They can be very stupid sometimes", he says, "Sheep can beat some Kazakh at chess. WRITE THAT IN THE BOOK!!", he yells.
He brings more and more portions of meat and vodka to the table. The lovely waitress follows instructions but is thrown off balance a little. We drink the delicious tea with milk and even more vodka.
"Look how well we eat in Kazakhstan, Knigu zapisaj, write that in your book!"
We go. Andrezh is really drunk. "Knigu zapisaj!", write the book! He keeps repeating. And yes, I will write.
"If you don't write that book, we will find you!"
I must smile to that. Probably if I write that book, Andrezh will kill and bury me under a Kazakh road and if I do, Nata might do the same.
I take my place between Ilona and him. He tries to touch Ilona a little, nothing too much off limits but you never know. He is a guy, drunk, limits are quickly crossed if you give too much opportunities.
Andrezh isn't feeling well, he mostly needs human contact now. He tries to get if from Ilona but all he gets is shaking hands. It is I who gets most of the contact. I get touched on knees, kissed on the ear, whatever. But if Andrezh can be anything, he surely is not gay. All he wants is human contact and I know that whatever he does to me is completly void of sexual intention. So it doesn't bother me that much. It would maybe not be the case with Ilona.
"I am done with vodka", he says.
At one point he chockes,it looks bad, we stop the car. He gets back on his feet again.
"Fuck all of you, let's go!", he says. We continue at 170 kilometers an hour. Besides Andrezh being drunk this is the most confortable and fastest ride we could have imagined. Second fastest only to air transport.
Andrezh goes to sleep, he wakes up from time to time.
"Switch places with Ilona!", he says. That way, she'll be next to him. We refuse. No way. Adlet and Talgat look at us with surprise. You don't refuse things to Andrezh. But there is a reason Andrezh is such a respected authority. As the king from the little prince, he tries to give reasonable orders. Orders people can follow. We will not follow this one. He doesn't insist that much.

We continue our journey, we eat in a some local cafés. The food is great each time. The Kazakh sure know how to cook meat. Cow meat, sheep meat, camel meat, horse meat, whatever.
At night, we sleep at his friends house. It's one thing to be invited to our host's place, it's another thing to be invited by our hosts to a totally different place.
"Is there space for us? Because we can build a tent."
"We don't even know if there is space for us," says Andrezh, "maybe we will all sleep in your tent"

Turns out there is space for everyone. We have come to Andrezh's good friend and his family. He is blind and seems very wise. But same story with the vodka.
"Davaj Andrezh, Filip, 100 gramov vipyom, patom paydom."
So we drink again, Andrezh seems to have forgotten his good resolutions about ceasing to drink vodka. We eat also, the food is amazing and lots of it.

We go to sleep on beautiful carpets, they call it "on the street". It's a bed made outside the house, under a net to prevent mosquitoes and where you can sleep under the stars. One of the most romantic places.
And by some miracle I manage to catch some open wifi, get to the internet and update my blog. I get more info about Nata, seems she really thinks about going to Kyrgystan. Let's see what comes of it. I also post some information about Sylvain, my contact in Ashgabat to Ana, the croatian girl who will attempt this path by hitchhiking. It's not easy, she might need the help, I know for a fact that I felt lost in that country.

The next day we wake up with the sun. I didn't sleep much because of surfing the inertnet. But who knows when will I find a connection again?
We eat a wonderful lunch and we continue our path at top speed.

The same rituals repeat, lots of food, lots of vodka. I still manage to keep up but it is getting harder. Andrezh is clearly more russian than Kazakh, at least in terms of alcohol tolerance. Talgat drinks less than us. He says he might have to drive but he never does. We stop to visit a giant mosque. I am not that much into buildings but that one is amazing.

We see camels again, horses, a 4x4 wedding limousine. A bus with all the luggage randomly thrown on the roof. "Oh yeah, Uzbeks going to work", says Andrezh ironically. He is drunk again.
We make it only to Taraz, the border and Almaty is for tomorrow. We try to sleep there at some other friends of Andrezh but a women who looks like a wannabe prostitute (which is positive by my beauty standarts actually) comes out and politly sends us away. So Andrezh books two rooms in a luxury hotel. One for us, one for them. Tonight we sleep in our own hotel room for free, how cool is that!
Before we sleep though, we drink another two rounds of vodka and cognac. It's really getting too much.
We have some internet but I'm too tired to use it, I just sleep. I write something to Nata but I think I am too drunk to make any sense.
Theo writes to us with a solution to get a chinese visa in Bishkek. He tells us that he is safely in Isfahan. Great news. He will be there in six weeks, can we wait for him? I think we can.

We wake up, I didn't sleep enough and we are on our way again. Brunch 150 kilometers from the Kirgiz border. Giant bowl of meat. It's deliscious but I'm starting to have enough of all that meat. What I would really want is vegetables.

"Come on Filip, let's drink 100g and after we go", says Andrezh for the last time. The waiter throws us a despising look, it's 9 in the morning. Andrezh is miles away from caring about how other people feel about him, especially her. He is smart enough though not to make Ilona drink, she just might throw up.
So we drink for the last time.

We are 30 kilometers from the border when he lets us go. Georgian goodbye. Thanks Andrezh. You're a solid guy.
"Knigu zapisay!" (write your book!) He says in a threatening way.
And we are gone.