Friday, August 29, 2008

Summer Vacation: Osh and Arslanbob

[There are only a few photos below. The full set of 184 photos can be viewed HERE.]

Saturday morning, Katy, Joe, Ben and I took a taxi to Bishkek’s Osh Bazaar, from where we were able to hire a car to take us to Osh – the second biggest city in Kyrgyzstan, located in the south-west of the country near the border with Uzbekistan – for 5000som total, which was a pretty fair cost from what we’d been told to expect. It took us nine hours, and brought us through a wide variety of scenery, much of which was quite different from the typical scenery up here in the northern part of the country.

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The road began to get interesting just south of Kara Balta.

I’d say the most interesting point of the trip was seeing firsthand the depletion of the Toktogul Reservoir, which is Kyrgyzstan’s biggest source of water and hydroelectric power… It is obviously much lower than it should be. The eastern edge of the reservoir is nearly bone dry, and while the larger western half is still quite full, the water level is far below the previous water line. That doesn’t bode well for Kyrgyzstan’s future.

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The eastern end of the Toktogul Reservoir is bone dry.

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Luckily there's still a lot of water in the larger western end.
You can clearly make out the previous water line though.

Following the reservoir, the Naryn River is funneled into a series of smaller reservoirs in a picturesque canyon, and they seem quite full, so perhaps things aren’t quite as bad as some estimates suggest. Nonetheless, country-wide rolling blackouts have started again in preparation for the coming winter.

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One of the many Naryn River reservoirs.

Once we got out of the mountain passes and entered the eastern edge of the Ferghana Valley, the scenery became much less interesting: flat and hot. To me, the most remarkable aspect of south-western Kyrgyzstan was the lack of Ladas and other Soviet era cars and the sheer preponderance of Korean Daewoo Ticos, which as far as I knew were no longer produced, having been replaced by the Daewoo Matiz. There were Ticos *everywhere* (and a fair share of Matizes and other Daewoo models as well). Now, Bishkek has a high population of Koreans, but we didn’t run across any Koreans down south. But there were Korean cars all over the place… and I bought a lime green Jumong t-shirt in the Jayma Bazaar. Curiouser and curiouser. [According to wikipedia, there is a Daewoo plant just over the border in Uzbekistan, which goes a long way to explaining this madness.]

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Why all the Daewoo Ticos???

When we finally arrived in Osh, we had a bit of difficulty finding our way to our CBT homestay as it was located on a tiny, obscure street in a far corner of the city. While the house itself was certainly the most luxurious house I’ve been inside here in Kyrgyzstan, and while the owners were nice, there weren’t enough beds, despite our reservations. Plus it was 750som/night/person, which is incredibly expensive for Kyrgyzstan. We were a little disappointed.

Nonetheless, we unloaded our stuff and headed into the town center. After a short after hours walk around the famous Jayma Bazaar, we found our way to a nice café for some shashlik, then returned to our homestay. While we didn’t spend much time in the city, we found the people friendly, and we felt that even though there wasn’t much to the city, it had far more character than Bishkek.

The next morning we said goodbye to Ben as he set off on his solo adventure to Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, and the three of us headed to the Osh center in search of cheaper accommodation. Joe found a place called Stari Gorod located on the corner of Kyrgyzstan and Zainabetinova streets which rents fully furnished apartments for reasonable fees. They have both new/modern apartments and older more Soviet style places. We rented a Soviet apartment in the center for 900som/night total (so 300som/person) which was an excellent deal. After leaving our stuff in our new home, we set off to explore the Jayma Bazaar on its busiest day of the week.

Jayma Bazaar is far more impressive than Bishkek's Osh Bazaar, and it lacks the seedy air of the Bishkek bazaar. Plus, even though there is no ancient architecture whatsoever, it was rather awe-inspiring to think that there has been a bazaar in that location for roughly 3000 years. All of the vendors were incredibly friendly, (although no one guessed that we were from America/Canada – I got asked if I was German, Czech, Belgian and even Spanish!) and they were nice to talk to and willing to be photographed. I bought two scarves, the aforementioned lime-green Jumong t-shirt, and an orange bridle. The man who sold me the bridle and I got along quite well once we determined we shared the view that George Bush was a svolich. Awesome.

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The fellow who sold me the bridle.

We left the bazaar and made our way to Suleiman Too (Solomon Mountain, commonly called Solomon’s Throne in guidebooks). This mountain is revered as Muhammad supposedly prayed atop it. Additionally, people claim that the mountain resembles a reclining pregnant woman (although unless she’s planning to give birth to a very pointy baby, I don’t see it), so pregnant women and hopeful mothers frequently make the pilgrimage to the top to pray.

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I just don't see a pregnant woman.

The climb to the top is steep, although the path consists of fairly new concrete steps with a rail, so it is not difficult and only takes about 15 minutes. Nonetheless, by the time we reached the top we were drenched in sweat and feeling rather miserable. From atop Suleiman Too you can see an aerial view of Osh, and that’s essentially it. There’s a small mosque at the summit, but it is a new structure and not too interesting. While Suleiman Too is the main “attraction” of Osh, there’s not much to it.

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The view from atop Suleiman Too

After hiking back down and snagging some lunch, we rested in our apartment for a little while, then made our way to a nice park next to the “river” (more of a canal, in my opinion) that runs through the city. The park was a tree-lined pedestrian avenue filled with people out for an afternoon stroll, and there were many small cafes. Additionally, there were numerous ancient amusement park rides which were obviously very popular with people of all ages. At the end of the park sits an old Soviet-era Aeroflot plane which somehow used to serve as a video theater. The plane is at the base of a fountain which would make for excellent morning photography, but is impossible to shoot from the front in the late afternoon. After dining at a cheap café in the park, we returned to our apartment and spent the remainder of the day relaxing.

The next morning we arose early and headed to the bus station near the bazaar in order to catch a marshrutka (a van which passes for public transport in this country) to Jalalabad. The ride cost 100som/person and only lasted an hour and forty-five minutes, but was thoroughly uncomfortable. We got the last three seats on the marshrutka. I had a normal seat, but with someone’s child in my lap. Joe got a tiny stool in the aisle. Katy was squished into a tiny spot next to the fattest woman in all of Kyrgyzstan. By the time we reached Jalalabad, none of us was in the mood to attempt a marshrutka to our next destination.

After a quick lunch at the bus station, we negotiated a taxi from Jalalabad to Arslanbob. We got it for 1000soms (although it’s much cheaper if you go via public transport), and our driver got us all the way to Arslanbob in less than an hour. (He was a little mad; his method of dealing with obstacles such as pedestrians and livestock was to lean on both the horn and the gas at the same time and hope that whatever was in our way moved.)

Arslanbob is a picturesque village located in the mountains north of Jalalabad, and it’s known for having the largest walnut grove in the world. It’s also predominantly Uzbek. The scenery, forest-land and culture of the village made it seem almost as though we were no longer in Kyrgyzstan. It reminded me of a bizarre combination of Taos, New Mexico and an ocean-less Costa Rica. It might very well be my favorite place in Kyrgyzstan.

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The view from our CBT homestay in Arslanbob

Our CBT homestay (for the fabulous price of 350som/person/night) was located at the upper edge of the valley, and we had a balcony with a spectacular view, which was an excellent place for a nap :-) Our host family spoke mainly Uzbek, with a smattering of Russian and even less English. Uzbek is quite similar to Kyrgyz (in the way that Spanish and Italian are similar), so we were able to communicate using the few Kyrgyz words that we knew. They were incredibly friendly, wonderful people. There was also a super tolerant cat, an incredibly lazy dog, and a beautiful flower garden. [Side note on pronunciation: A few of the differences I was able to notice with my pathetic Kyrgyz skills – jok (no) is pronounced yok, and jeti (seven) is yeti, and saat (hour/time) is sahat.]

After napping on our wonderful balcony, we decided to head into the village center for some refreshment. We had tea and samsa at an incredible tea house with balconies overhanging the river. The tea house was apparently the hang-out for the old men of the village, and I felt rather out of place as both a foreigner and a woman, but we were treated kindly by everyone there.

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Me in the Arslanbob tea house

After finishing out tea, we made for Arslanbob’s small waterfall, which is a fairly short walk from the village. The afternoon was hot and sunny, and the waterfall was gorgeous and cool. Katy and I merely soaked our feet, whereas Joe did like many of the locals and stood under the frigid falls himself. Several locals came to the falls, not just too cool off, but to bathe/shave while we were there. Many Kyrgyz tourists came to the falls to be photographed. Some were brave enough to venture into the frigid waters… including one very scary large man wearing nothing but tighty-whities. Additionally, like Suleiman Too, the small waterfall of Arslanbob is surrounded by some sort of fertility myth and is visited by pregnant women and those wishing to become pregnant. Katy and I obstinately sat on cold rocks (a belief introduced into this region by the Russians that such behavior will cause your ovaries to freeze).

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Arslanbob's small waterfall

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Joe in the waterfall. Doesn't he look like Uncle Jim?

After leaving the waterfall, we wandered around the village for a couple of hours before returning to our homestay for a wonderful dinner of home-cooked plov.

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Typical Arslanbob street

The next morning we got up fairly early, and after breakfast set off on what ended up being a rather lengthy hike. First we hiked back to the small waterfall. From the top of the small waterfall, if you take the trail farthest to the right it will lead you to a panoramic view of the village and the valley. We went there first and snagged some pleasant shots before it got too hot.

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View from the panorama

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Me at the panorama

Leaving the panorama, the trail is dusty and covered with small rocks. I lost traction and totally wiped out, crashing quite solidly onto the rocky ground. Apparently my instinct is to save my camera at all costs, for in the split second between losing my footing and slamming into the ground I managed to direct the force of my fall onto my left side while holding my camera free and clear of the catastrophe in my right hand. I was bleeding in several places and my hip ached tremendously from that moment onwards (it has since developed quite a spectacular bruise), and it took me a few minutes to stand up. As I sat there wiping off the blood and dirt, a young woman came by herding cows... and they lost their footing in the same place I had, and nearly slid onto me! Luckily they didn’t, although who dies from having a falling cow push them into a ravine? At least that would’ve left Joe and Katy with an interesting tale to tell. No physical harm.

After I was on my feet again we continued on and soon thereafter made it into the famed walnut forest. There were dirt “roads” through the forest, so we never felt as though we’d left civilization, although it was beautiful, shady and cool. When we emerged from the forest we were still feeling fairly energetic, and we decided to try for the large waterfall, despite the fact that we didn’t know exactly how to get there and we’d heard that it wasn’t all that spectacular. We took two rather lengthy detours in quite incorrect directions, and were feeling exhausted by the time we finally got on the right track for the falls. We could see it in the distance in all its non-impressive glory, and I for one was not encouraged by the sight of it. Or the vast distance between it and myself. I found a shady spot by the river and decided to stay there as Joe and Katy continued onwards… but when Joe joined the lazy Jane camp, Katy decided to give up the quest for the big falls.

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Walnut forest

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The views around Arslanbob were incredible!

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I took a ton of photos of this house.

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Ahhh, paradise!

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That was the big waterfall. I just couldn't bring myself to go the distance.

After resting for a while (oddly enough, chatting with a couple we’d met at our first homestay in Osh who had picked the same shady spot to rest), we turned and made our way back to the village. Katy and Joe headed first to the small waterfall for a “shower” although I was in pain at that point and decided to seek out the cat for a nap. We had a fairly lazy afternoon/evening, but after all our trekking about in the first half of the day, we weren’t up for much else. And Arslanbob is the perfect place to relax.

The next morning, Katy and I said goodbye to Joe (who is now off to explore Tajikistan and Afghanistan) and hopped in a taxi for Bishkek, which we shared with two travelers (from Scotland and the Netherlands) who had also stayed at our homestay. The taxi was 1250som/person direct from Arslanbob to Bishkek, which should have been a good deal… but he was an odd fellow. When it came to navigating high, narrow, winding mountain roads filled with hairpin turns, he was a pro, keeping the gas pedal pressed to the floor while passing three cars at a time on blind uphill turns in the grand tradition of Kyrgyz drivers. However, the instant we got onto a flat, straight, traffic-less stretch of road – the ideal place for speeding – he would drop to 60kph and just crawl along. I felt like beating my head against a wall. Or offering to drive. It should have taken us only seven hours to make it back to Bishkek, but instead it took us nine with this weirdo. I simply cannot wrap my head around how someone who could drive so fearlessly through the dangerous mountain passes could then poke along like a half-blind grandmother on the straight stretches. Beyond comprehension.

Anyway, we got back safely, after having had a wonderful vacation. If any of you are ever in Kyrgyzstan, I highly recommend Arslanbob. The scenery is spectacular and different from the rest of the country, the people are incredibly friendly, and the CBT homestays are fantastic.

My full set of 184 photos can be seen online
BY CLICKING HERE. I’ve only posted a handful here and I highly recommend checking it out!

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Plane Crash in Bishkek

While we were in Osh, we learned that a plane had crashed in Bishkek, but weren't able to get any other news until returning home. In case you haven't heard, here's the story.

Battered, bruised and back in Bishkek

We had a wonderful trip and got back into Bishkek last night. I was in the process of editing my photos this morning when the power in my block went out (yay, Bishkek), so I haven't been able to get that finished yet. I'll try to have a post and photos up in a day or two. Suffice it to say that Arslanbob is now my favorite place in Kyrgyzstan... even if the paths are slippery and can lead to ass-busting falls :-)

Friday, August 22, 2008

See you next week!

We're heading to the southwest part of Kyrgyzstan to visit Osh and Arslanbob... we'll be back on Thursday, August 28. See you then!

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Vacation Prep

On Saturday, Katy, Joe and I are heading for Osh, the second largest city in Kyrgyzstan, located a 12 hour drive to the south. I'll be gone for six days, so I'm prepping my apartment for my absence. In other words, I bought more litter boxes.

vacation prep

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Send Pepto.

Well, okay, you probably shouldn’t send me pepto, as by the time it got here I’d be back in the US. But I bet you can guess what happened. Yep, I had ANOTHER case of food poisoning or stomach flu or whatever the hell it is that I keep getting. This one wasn’t as severe as the previous three times, but it was made worse by the fact that I worked through it all. (Yes, this included running out in the middle of class…) Anyway, the week was pretty much a wash due to being ill and the fact that I had to work on Wednesday to make up for the day of work I missed because of being sick the previous week. Boo.

This weekend my friends and I had planned a super-cool trip to Song Kol, a high mountain lake which is supposedly one of the most beautiful places in Kyrgyzstan. Well, they went; I stayed here nursing my stomach. At least after four days of yogurt I’m back on solid foods again.

In a fit of boredom I did something I hadn’t done in a good three years: I dyed my hair. Blonde. And not a natural blonde, but a crazy bright yellow. And almost instantaneously I had creepy guys hitting on me through my window. In eight months of living here, I had NEVER had anyone bother me through my window before. Seriously, WTF is it with guys and blonde hair? Or with creepy drunken dudes thinking that a girl is going to give her phone number to a strange guy harassing her from the street, ripping a hole in her plastic window-covering and trying to steal her cat? I ended up having to sleep with my windows closed, which meant cutting out the ventilation from the cool night air. Sigh. Nobody ever fucked with me when I had black hair; there’s probably a lesson in this somewhere.

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Yep, absurdity reigns.

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Although there might be another explanation for the behaivour of those dudes... Yes, a full moon. And that little glowy spot is Venus.

Anyway, on to cheerier topics: Kyrgyzstan has a legendary epic hero named Manas. There are monuments to Manas all over the place, and the Epic of Manas is allegedly three times longer than the Odyssey or something. I decided I’d like to know some of the actual Manas legends, so instead of purchasing the appallingly thick (and appallingly expensive) English prose translation of the epic, I purchased a beautifully illustrated children’s book of Manas tales in Russian. I’ve been translating it, and it is slow going. This book might be meant for kids, but it’s chock full of words like anointed and indefatigable, which I sure as hell don’t know in Russian. Plus it periodically throws in Kyrgyz words, so if a word isn’t in my Russian dictionary, I have to double check the Kyrgyz one, as sometimes it’s in there. Sometimes it isn’t. Anyway, the book has 14 chapters. I’ve translated the prologue and the first chapter. The words and phrases that I was unable to figure out, I’ve simply left in Russian, but you can follow the plot easily despite the few un-translated bits. The post below contains my first translations. It’s a pretty entertaining tale thus far – enjoy!

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In one tale, Manas carries his weary horse over a mountain pass.

Epic of Manas: Prologue and Chapter 1

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Prologue
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It was a dark night. The village, sheltered at the bend in the river, was immersed in serene dreams. Only Jakyp didn’t sleep. He lay in the dark yurt listening to the monotonous roar of water running over stones. To the old man it seemed as though the sound was speech, shouting and horses whinnying, although he knew that this was but a trick of his imagination. His mind wandered, and he thought about his son; such thoughts often deprived him of sleep.

Already three years had passed since his first-born, Manas, had left his birthplace. A feeling of pride seized Jakyp – he remembered that day when the people chose Manas, who was but a boy of 16 at the time, as their Khan!

In the Kyrgyz land, the great Manas established a peaceful life, but the happiness of Jakyp was darkened by an eternal feeling of anxiety and fear. The Kyrgyz had insulted the great Khan of China, Esen, with the crushing defeat of his best commanders Nezkan and Nuker and the capture of Chinese caravans.

Two years earlier, the Chinese had sent a 100,000 man army against the Kyrgyz. The poor old man knew that the hour of retribution had begun. But his bold son, Manas, gathered 26,000 young men from friendly Kyrgyz tribes, and defeated the Chinese terribly. The disarrayed Chinese were ambushed in a deep ravine. His enemies, finding themselves surrounded on all sides, became mad with despair. With their own hands they deprived themselves of life, some by the dagger, some by poison.

Jakyp, with 100 men, had returned to another flank, but alarming thoughts hadn’t left him. After the victory of his son, Manas couldn’t stay in one place. All his people repeated again and again that he needed to go on a campaign against the near cities of the Chinese and their cities in Eastern Turkestan! Dangu, Yarkend, Kucher, Kashgar, Turfan… and the biggest of all, Dagalak. Dagalak was the home of Esen Kyrmus. His strength was large, and he called himself Khan Esen. Should Manas cease his campaign? Чем больше его уговариваешь, тем straight away he took the position: “It is nothing to wait for death and tremble with fear. It is better not to abandon the campaign. It is better to go there ourselves while he is not expecting us,” the Kyrgyz persuaded the young Khan.

All the people then gathered for the campaign, but Manas prohibited the elderly and the youth from joining the fight, saying, “Who else will watch our cattle? Who else will protect our mothers? Who else will raise our children?”

Manas left with his army on the campaign, and around all Turkestan flew wild rumors of a great and miraculous Kyrgyz victory over one of the Chinese rulers. Only Jakyp wasn’t pleased by this news. “Ох, не к дорбу все это! The strongest Emperor of China? It is forbidden to pull his mustache without punishment – even the feeblest of dogs.”

Suddenly Jakyp caught, through the monotonous sound of the river, some kind of new sound. The old man raised himself a little and listened. This wasn’t a dream: he heard the distinct sound of the drumming of hooves. Someone was racing through the village at a driving gallop. [original text]


Chapter 1: The Return of Manas

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The tired racer brought Jakyp good news: his son was returning from his campaign, and was bringing with him a young wife!

The sun had yet to rise, but the Kyrgyz people had already begun to prepare for the long awaited reunion. Some stripped the carcasses of deer, while others tended the fires under enormous cauldrons. Across from Jakyp’s yurt, they set up a giant celebratory yurt. It was covered in snow-white felt decorated in flowers, ribbons and artistically twined tassels.

At noon, upon hearing the enthusiastic exclamations of the people, Jakyp left the yurt, closing it off from sunlight with palm-fronds, and saw on the high pass riders with banners. The people around him were frozen with surprise. Out from the line appeared many new and happy warriors. Already, all space around them was filled with riders, and they flew down like an avalanche which seemed to have no end.

Suddenly, Jakyp heard a happy cry, “Manas! My son!” – it was old Chyiyrdi, who threw herself forward to meet the arrival of the young commander who escorted the group of riders. His armor and weapons, tipped with gold and silver, distinguished him among the other warriors.

Jakyp peered at his son, who leapt from his horse and rushed to his mother. Three years ago, the old man had sent a young teen off on a campaign; he had returned a mature man. From behind Jakyp, his brothers Abyke and Kyobyosh watched anxiously.

“Father, I return in victory!” said Manas, approaching Jakyp and bowing his head as a sign of respect. Moved, the father drew his son to him.

“I heard of your battles; steppe rumors brought me news of you. But I want to know everything from your mouth. How I dreamt of seeing you again, Manas! And how I feared your loss! But first and foremost, where is your bride?”

Manas returned to his company of riders. He sprightly leapt to the back of one warrior’s stallion and removed the rider’s helmet. Onto the warrior’s shoulders fell waves of silky hair. It was a girl!

Beautifully, she turned. She had a finely boned face. Her brows curved as if stretched over a bow. Her round eyes were knowing and radiant, peaked with long eyelashes. Her neck was proud and swan-like. Manas took the girl by her hand and brought her to his parents.

“This is Karabyork, daughter of Kaiyp Khan, ruler of the city of Danguu, which lies on the shore of the faraway lake, Lob-Nor. Kaiyp Khan is also here with his men. Now he is my ally, but not long ago, he and I fought. Oh, it was a terrible battle – the waters of Lob-Nor were painted crimson. Many warriors fell, both his and ours. Kaiyp fought like a lion. Not only his sons, but his daughters battled against us. Karabyork was wounded by the bow of Bakai, son of Bai. Nonetheless, she tried to stab me with her dagger, but could not withstand my strength. Kaiyp Khan was forced to surrender to me. But for all that, Karabyork conquered me. I couldn’t stand firm in front of her beauty. So I returned to the land of Kaiyp Khan and became his son-in-law.”

Manas gave an order for his company of warriors to mark out a campsite, and they carried themselves off to different ends of the enormous army in search of the commanders. Soon the forces’ tents and yurts were erected, separated by campfires. Jakyp, accustomed to living the peaceful life of a nomad, looked with fear upon the enormous quantity of warriors assembled.

“Father, under me serve more than 60,000 young men,” said Manas. Noticing the dismay of his father he added, “It is easy for me to manage them. Urbyu, Kyokchyo, Jamgyrchi – they all remain leaders of their own detachments and tribes, and they are excellent warriors and chiefs. The entire army works together as one village. Managing them is as easy as raising my hands. Besides, I have with me another worthy leader of warriors, my brother, the wise Bakai. I entrust him with much.”

“Where is my dear nephew? Where is his father?” asked Jakyp agitatedly, glancing from side to side in hope of seeing his brother Bai.

“Father, your brother died in Kashgar more than a year ago,” answered Manas with a sad voice. “He was with me when we were protecting the country of Eset and when we captured the city of Mangyt. Together we freed the Kalmyks from captivity: our brother Orozdu with his ten sons and the sons of Bai, Bakai and Tailak. My uncle died a happy man; he was free and campaigning with his sons like a true warrior.”

At that moment two new warriors entered the yurt. The first of them reminded Jakyp of his elder brother Bai as a youth, only the shoulders of this youth were broader. In his eyes shone natural wisdom and majesty. “Bakai!” surmised Jakyp, who then shifted his gaze to the other rider. Although his face was lined with deep wrinkles and his hair and beard were as white as snow, Jakyp immediately recognized someone dear to his heart. “Orozdu!” cried the old man, and hurried to his brother. Jakyp rushed through the rest of his greetings of the ten indefatigable sons of Orozdu. They jostled before him, each not wishing to give up first place to any of the others.

Not turning attention on гвалат which was raised up (by?) the youths, Jakyp and Orozdu talked without ceasing. Much time had passed while the brothers were separated. They needed to ask each other about everything. Although Jakyp was also impatient to hear the tales of Manas, but he merely held his hands.

“First a wedding той! My father-in-law Kaiyp and his people are all here. And my warriors are tired from battle. Let music play and let the girls sing songs! We have dreamt so long of returning home!” cried Manas.

The sounds of lutes began to ring, and the strumming the komuz (a traditional Kyrgyz stringed instrument) poured over them, sharing the lengthy songs of the nomads. Manas and Karabyork stood side by side; in their hands they held a twig on either end. Jakyp approached them and broke the twig in half, such that each of the youths retained an equal half. The young couple then flung the twigs from themselves. Like in дверности they were now joined together inviolate as any treaty.

“Now you are husband and wife!” solemnly proclaimed Jakyp, who was then overwhelmed by the mountainous echo of thousands of voices chanting “Manas! Karabyork!”

Chyiyrdi anointed Karabyork’s forehead with pieces of сала, then threw them in the hearth. This was a sacrifice to the souls of the ancestors of Manas. In this moment, they took the young woman under their protection. [original text page 1 page 2 page 3]

Monday, August 11, 2008

Some photographs from Bishkek

Yesterday the temperatrure was in the upper 80s (F), which might be hot, but compated to the 100+ temps we've had lately, it felt wonderful. I went for a nice long walk around the city center, taking pics of various things I hadn't yet photographed. Enjoy!

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Who needs McDonald's or Burger King (Bishkek has neither) when you can have Mac Burger?

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I am in love.

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Monument to those who died in WWII

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One of the many bizarre sculptures in Dubrovy Park

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Erkindik (freedom) replaced Lenin in Bishkek's main square

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Manas, the epic hero of Kyrgyzstan, rides his horse in front of the Philharmonic

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A closer look at Manas

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This park is located next to the Philharmonic

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Same park as seen from the other end.

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Cool building. Don't know what it is though.

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Obviously, I took many flower pics.

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:-)

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Although I think my favorite flower pic was of this dead flower...

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Back at home, Lucy is long suffering.
You'd think they were mother and daughter or sisters from the way they act.












Thursday, August 07, 2008

Depressing news

Email received today:
To the Everywhere Community,
Launching a travel magazine was always an ambitious undertaking, but 8020 Publishing is committed to the idea of creating beautiful publications that combine the vitality of the Web with the richness of print. You made it possible for us to produce four terrific issues of Everywhere, but sadly we must now suspend publication of the magazine.Why? At the end of the day, we just aren't where we need to be, business-wise, with the website or magazine. Suspending publication of Everywhere will enable 8020 Publishing to focus on improving the community platform behind JPG Magazine, 8020's other title. That, in turn, will benefit all the future titles 8020 plans to produce.In the meantime, the Everywhere website at www.everywheremag.com will remain online so you can continue to share your travel stories and photos. If you subscribed to Everywhere, you will be contacted in the upcoming weeks with information about refund options. Selected contributors for our upcoming issue, Issue 04, will be contacted later this week with their payment information. It goes without saying that this is a disappointing turn of events. Most of all, though, I can't tell you how much we enjoyed having the opportunity to collaborate with so many intrepid travelers, wonderful writers, and talented photographers. It's been a privilege working with you all, and we had a ton of fun along the way. You've inspired us, entertained us, awed us, and given us an incurable case of wanderlust. Thank you.
Best wishes,
Everywhere Magazine

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Not again!

Food poisoning and/or stomach flu for the third time in eight months. I'd blame Kyrgyzstan, except that the first time happened in when I was back in the US. As such, I've got nothing new here... or at least nothing you want to hear about, trust me. Although speaking of Waycross, check out some photos my mom sent me. Enjoy!

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Fan Death of a different kind

Do you remember how in Korea, people believe that if you sleep with the fan on you'll die? And how fans even come with warnings from the manufacturer about this? Well, there's a different kind of fan death going on here. Yesterday afternoon I was napping - sprawled directly in front of my fan as the temperature was over 100F - when I was awakened by a loud POP! I awoke to discover that my apartment reeked of an electrical fire, and that my fan's motor had exploded! The office has given me several excuses as to why they can't provide me with another fan (they already provided me with one, if they get another it will just burn out too, they can't find me a fan because they're all sold out right now, etc), so as yet I am fanless and melting... although at least it isn't humid here. I am tempted to just buy myself a fan, although you know as soon as I do the office will provide me with one. Grrr. Meanwhile, I am currently camped out at the internet cafe as they have a superpowered AC which I am sitting directly under.