'stansick

I've been missing Kyrgyzstan of late... So I made this video. Makes me wonder why I ever left. Enjoy! (The song is by Tata Ulan, and the pairing of pictures and song probably will make more sense to people who speak Russian and know a bit about Kyrgyzstan. I tried to match lyrics to pictures wherever possible.)

A postal miracle!

Before I left for Kyrgyzstan, my mother asked me to buy her a Kyrgyz saddle while I was there. Early on in my trip, I found an antique wooden saddle for about $14. In late October, shortly before returning to the US, I shipped it home. You may remember the story: I spent a ridiculously long time in the post office, spent $100 on shipping AND they managed to insert my absentee ballot into the box instead of mailing it to its proper destination. Anyway, after being home for nearly two full months, both my mother and I had given up on the saddle ever making it to Waycross. I figured it was being ridden around Kyrgyzstan by whoever acquired my fitted sheet and my chocopies, and whatever else the Kyrgyz post stole from me.

The box, in its hand sewn linen sack

Hand stitching and a wax seal

A closer look at the wax seal of the Bishkek Post Office

Hand stitching and seals

Mom gets her saddle

The saddle in all its glory :-)

And, of course, my ballot.

Censorship on YouTube?

Remember when I went to the eagle festival and there were wolf-hounds fighting a chained wolf? I shot a video of the wolf fighting the dogs and posted it on YouTube, with a warning that it was graphic and with my opinion that this was a particularly horrific aspect to the otherwise incredible festival. I wasn’t posting it in order to glorify dog fighting or dog-n-wolf fighting, but to show how things are in modern Kyrgyzstan. Apparently it was deemed unacceptable by YouTube. When I logged in this afternoon in order to upload the videos in the below post, I received this message:

The following video(s) from your account have been disabled for violation of the YouTube Community Guidelines:

Dogs fight a chained wolf (warning: graphic) - (janekeeler)

Your account has received one Community Guidelines warning strike, which will expire in six months. Additional violations may result in the temporary disabling of your ability to post content to YouTube and/or the termination of your account.For your reference, a copy of this message has also been emailed to the address associated with this account.

I never did receive that email; no doubt it was funneled into my spam box.

I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, the images depicted in the video are pretty horrible. On the other hand, that’s what goes on in modern-day Kyrgyzstan. Unlike the US where dog-fighting is something people gather illegally in basements to do, this was one of the main events in a large festival put on by the Krgyzstan Ministry of Tourism. The purpose of my blog (when I’m overseas, at least) is to give readers an accurate glimpse of what life is like wherever I happen to be. Anyone interested in going to Kyrgyzstan should be aware of the fact that animal rights simply do not exist. As such, I feel in part that by removing the video, YouTube has done its users a disservice. What do you think?

Adventures of an International Cat Lady

Traveling from Bishkek to Waycross with four cats – while definitely worth it – was probably one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done. I’ve already described the whole rigmarole I had to go through in Bishkek to get permission to take my cats out of Kyrgyzstan. That was just the beginning.


Ben overlooks my pile of possessions
At 2:30 Sunday morning, a taxi (driven by Anatoli the Awesome) came to the school to pick up me, my various feline and non-feline possessions and Ben. (Ben came along to help me carry things and to laugh at the absurdity of what I was doing.) We got to the airport at 3am only to learn that check in for my flight wouldn’t begin for another hour. This was actually fine, as it gave me plenty of time to take the cats (or more specifically, their paperwork) to the Veterinary Control desk in order to receive even more stamped government forms from someone who didn’t so much as look at the cats.

Meanwhile, I should definitely mention that the instant we hopped out of the car we were descended upon by a dude with a cart who charged an exorbitant fee for use of said cart ($50!) but with four cats, two suitcases and a backpack it seemed worth it. He also tried to convince me that my money was also paying for him to call his brother on the other side of the security check in who would make sure that I had no problems getting the cats checked in. I didn’t believe that for an instant. Cart Guy was actually quite helpful, until he put Grey Cat through the x-ray machine. Ooops. But that comes later.


Kitties in Manas International Airport
While waiting to check in, the cats provided entertainment to numerous children who wanted nothing more than to poke their fingers into the carriers in an attempt to pet (er, poke) my cats. The kitties were surprisingly well-behaved and tolerant of all this nonsense.

In order to check in at Bishkek’s Manas Airport, first you must go through a narrow door, then through a security check. This means that as soon as check in for your flight begins, you and everyone else on that flight immediately must rush like mad for the narrow door, pushing and shoving at will. Yay, civilization. Cart Guy, Anatoli, Ben and I forced our way to the front and got me and all my crap through the narrow door. That was when Cart Guy put Grey Cat on the conveyer belt, which whisked her into the baggage x-ray machine before I could do anything to stop it. People began screaming at me (“You’re going to kill your pet!”) and I started shouting at Cart Guy while frantically pulling the other three carriers off the conveyer belt where he’d put them. Grey Cat had already been scanned, but I had to take the other three out one at a time and carry them through the metal detector while their carriers were put through the x-ray.

Once the cats, my suitcases and I were through security, I got to explain to some very friendly customs guys why I was taking four breed-less street cats home with me. (I must’ve had at least 6 different people ask “But don’t you have street cats in America?”) The customs guys actually seemed quite impressed when I told them that the cats were my responsibility and I couldn’t just abandon them. Although perhaps they were more impressed with my ability to explain all that in Russian.

After customs examined all my cat paperwork I was finally able to check in. First I had to pay $401 in excess baggage fees, which I’d expected. Well, I’d expected $400, and while I had more with me, the smallest bill I had was a $50, and of course they didn’t have change. Luckily I had $1 worth of soms left, and they let me pay with those.

Then I was instructed to leave my three cats (the ones going in checked baggage) on the floor in front of a random-seeming elevator. I had to leave them sitting there, mewing pathetically, as Lucy (the cat who came on the plane with me) and I went off in the other direction to go through yet another security check. I was quite worried that I would arrive in Atlanta 30+ hours later and Grey Cat, Bagira and Heelix would still be sitting in their carriers in front of that elevator door.

Lucy was wonderful during the trip. She had to be taken out of her carrier at least six times and she never put up a fight or caused any problems. She was quite quiet during our journey, and managed to keep from peeing or pooping until we checked into a hotel room south of Atlanta. God knows how she achieved that feat; I sure didn’t!

Anyway, we arrived in Moscow 5 hours after leaving Bishkek, and we then spent seven and a half hours waiting around for our flight. So boring. I remember back when I used to think Moscow’s Sheremetevo was exotic… but after Bishkek’s Manas, Sheremetevo is boringly mundane.


Boredom in Sheremetevo
The flight to New York was 10 hours long, and we left 30 minutes late. Then, when we got to New York’s JFK, we sat on the runway for a good 45 minutes before we were able to disembark. My layover had been only two and a half hours long to begin with, and I was very worried that I wouldn’t make my connection. I ran through immigration and was one of the first people to claim their bags (both of which arrived). Then I asked where I could find my cats… and the woman in charge of baggage claim info told me the wrong place to go to! I was standing there, waiting for my cats to appear, watching my fellow passengers all leaving, fearing that Bagira, Grey Cat and Heelix were all still sitting in front of that elevator door in Manas, when I heard the distant sound of cats crying. I went in search, and found them on the other side of the room from where I’d been instructed to wait! They were overjoyed to see me, and I was thoroughly relieved to find them.

I stacked my cats and suitcases on top of a cart and wheeled them through customs – who didn’t even look at their paperwork! All that paperwork to get them out of Kyrgyzstan and to bring them in I apparently needed nothing. Weird.

I went to re-deposit my baggage on the other side of customs and was told that I’d actually have to go out to the Delta check-in counter to drop off the cats. At this point I had a mere 40 minutes. Let’s just say that there was a lot of frantic running around, and we barely made the plane.

In Atlanta, the cats were there, but only one of my suitcases. I didn’t really care; I knew the missing suitcase had made it as far as New York, and all I cared about was having the cats safe. I met my mom at baggage claim, and we drove to just south of Macon before stopping at a motel and collapsing from exhaustion. We got to Waycross Monday afternoon.


Heelix confronts Daddy Cat through the screen door
The cats seem to have had no problem adjusting to their new home, although the cats which already lived there are somewhat put out that these interlopers are snuggled up on what they consider to be *their* bed :-)

In which I get proposed to in a scary basement vet clinic

Today I had to take my kitty passports to various places in orderto get the Bishkek Four approved for transport. My first destination was Orozbekova 253, way the hell north of town. I didn't know where exactly, just that it was north of town and a long way from the school. I took a taxi. The taxi driver had to stop and consult his map numerous times, but eventually he dropped me off at what looked like an old Russian-style wooden house, surrounded by a chain-link fence. The yard was filled with cars in various states of disrepair. It didn't look very much like the sort of place where one goes to get kitty passports validated!

There were several men in the yard taking a smoke break, so I approached them and explained what I needed. One of them told me to follow him, and began leading me downstairs to the basement of this ancient house. Not exactly the safest-feeling situation! However, it turned out that in the basement was a vet clinic, while the upstairs was some kind of vet school. The basement was dark (they had no electricity) and dank and reeked of chemicals. There was an ancient metal table with an IV at one end in the center of the room, and nothing else, and it looked like some kind of psychpath's private torture chamber from a horror flick. Unlike my shiny, well-lit vet clinic on Sovietskaya, which is staffed by three jolly, rotund Russian women, this clinic was staffed by numerous skinny Kyrgyz men. The skinny Kyrgyz man who needed to validate my passport wasn't there when I arrived, so they asked me to sit down and wait. While I waited, I got to chat with one of the vets. He was very nice and suggested that I marry him so he could go to the US. I told him that I planned to continue traveling; he said that didn't matter, he loved to travel. But he likes rap music and doesn't like cats - it would never work. As I waited, a young man carried in a Rottweiler with something wrong with its leg. They tied it to the scary table in the middle of the room and began operating sans anasthetic. I snuck a photo.

Then the man I needed to see arrived. He looked over my kitty passports, stamped them and then completed several kitty-export-from-K-stan forms. He said it was a pity I was leaving so soon, or else he'd get to know me and then perhaps I could have a Kyrgyz husband, hint, hint. Apparently all the eligible bachelors hang out in the scary basement at Orozbekova 253!

But my day was not over. From Orozbekova 253 I had to travel to another out-of-the-way office: the State Veterinary Department, located at Budenosh 247, where the forms completed by the vet at Orozbekova had to be stamped by some other government official. He was really confused as to why I was taking mixed breed street cats home ("Surely there are street cats in America?"), but stamped all my paperwork nontheless.

As I wandered out of the State Veterinary Department, wondering how the hell I was going to find transport back to civilization, I heard a voice shout, "Jane! Hello!" and turned around to see Elmira, a student I taught for my first five months in K-stan, but whom I hadn't seen since. Apparently she lives across the street from the State Veterinary Department. I talked to her for a little while, and she helped me find the correct marshrutka to take me back to the London School.

Today's adventures were both mundane and absurd. And the kind of stuff that I'm going to miss when I'm back in the "real world." I leave on Sunday!!

In which Ben breaks the door and Kyrgyzstan nullifies my vote

Since technically my contract runs through October 31st, I purchased my ticket home for November 2nd. Ben was promised my apartment upon my departure, as the school needed to turn his apartment into classrooms. Unfortunately, when I bought my ticket I hadn’t realized that the last day of “October” classes was actually October 24th and that “November” classes began on October 27th. This meant that they needed Ben to move out on October 25th… and of course they were confused as to why I’d bought my ticket for such a late date. Yay, Kyrgyz logic. Luckily, Ben and I are good friends, so we don’t mind sharing an apartment for one week. Of course, I had five cats and he had one, so there are now two people and six cats in my apartment. Madness!

Monday I decided that while everyone else was at work (haha! unemployment is great!) I’d take the four cats that I’m taking home to the vet so they could be examined in order for the vet to complete the paperwork needed for customs. I can only carry two cats at a time, and I had just lugged Lucy and Heelix into the vet’s office when I received a panicked phone call from Ben: Minsk had escaped and while he was in the process of re-capturing her, somehow the door to our apartment had broken and he was unable to get back inside. He’d shoved Minsk into Katy’s apartment (Katy, btw, is a dog person) and they were both teaching while various people tried to break down the door to our apartment. He wanted me to come home ASAP so that I could prevent the other cats from escaping once the door was opened – and so that I could get Minsk out of Katy’s apartment.

I figured that as I was already at the vet, I might as well do what I’d gone there to do. I explained what I needed, and nearly laughed when I learned that I hadn’t had to bring the cats with me; she was perfectly willing to complete the paperwork stating that all four were healthy without examining any of them! Meanwhile, on Thursday I have to take that paperwork to two different government offices to have various officials stamp them, thus further “proving” that my cats are healthy. Yay, more Kyrgyz logic.

I practically ran back to the school (doing so while lugging fat-ass Heelix was a feat in and of itself), only to discover that the school had called a locksmith who wouldn’t be there for an hour or so. I snagged Katy’s keys and spent a good three hours with three cats hanging out in her apartment. I was just about to fall asleep when I was roused by the sound of a drill. I went downstairs to discover a woman jackhammering the concrete doorjamb with a power drill. She did eventually get in and switch the locks, but by then I’d completely wasted most of my day.

Tuesday I decided to go to the central post office to ship home the wooden saddle that I’d bought for my mom ages and ages ago. I also figured that would be as good a time as any to mail my absentee ballot. I dragged the saddle all the way downtown and had the woman in the post office give me a quote as to how much it would cost to ship – nearly $100. I’d paid $14 for the thing. Grrr. I went across the street to change money and came back to discover the postal woman debating with some man whether or not I should be allowed to ship this antique saddle out of the country. On the one hand, it might very well be an antique. On the other hand, I paid $14 for it, so it couldn’t be *that* valuable, now could it? I told them that and they decided that I had a pretty good point and agreed to allow me to ship it.

It took more than an hour for the woman to package up the saddle. First she made a custom sized box out of cardboard. After taping it up around the saddle, she then sewed a custom fit cloth sleeve for the box, which she then hand-stitched shut and sealed with wax. She told me how much I owed, and I asked how much it would be to send my envelope (containing my absentee ballot) as well. Her response? “The envelope is in the box with the saddle. They’re going to the same address, right?” In the box? Are you kidding me? It had taken so long to package the damn saddle that I wasn’t about to make her do it again (although from the look on her face, she wouldn’t have agreed to do it even if I’d insisted), but dammit! This makes three presidential elections in a row that I’ve effectively been disenfranchised, although this is the first time that it has been the fault of someone in a foreign government! Now I have to print off the Federal Emergency Absentee Ballot and hope that it counts.

The happiest place on earth?

On Saturday, Ben, Derek, Josh, Katy and I went to the circus. Bishkek has a rather awesome looking circus facility - a weird 60s era "futuristic" construction, located in the center of town - although it does not have its own circus. The circus building is used for concerts and comedy shows although it occasionally fulfills its true purpose when the circus comes to town. Signs plastered all over the city claimed that The Moscow Circus was coming. Now, I've seen the Moscow Circus, and they are flawless professionals (albeit with drugged bears). If what we saw was actually affiliated with the Moscow Circus in any way, they were definitely 10th string. But it was amusing (although the drugged bears and the drugged kangaroo were depressing - except for when one of the bears attacked its handler, which sadly, I did not get on camera).

We arrived at the circus to learn that tickets were a little more than we wanted to spend... then some sketchy middle-aged Kyrgyz woman offered to sell us scalped tickets for a fraction of the price. Of course we agreed, and of course they were fake. Well, not so much fake as for the 12:00 show when we were there to see the 4:00 show. We didn't notice this until we were already inside... and the three or four different people who checked our tickets never noticed. Woohoo! Anyway, we were seated far from the action - not good for photography - but I did take several short videos so you can see the true absurdity of this spectacle. Enjoy!

Eagle Fest!!

Warning: Animal Rights in Kyrgyzstan are essentially nonexistant. This post contains some graphic photography and videos which are rather unpleasant. However, there are a lot of really incredible and beautiful things to see/read in this post as well... just be forewarned.

Last Friday after work, Josh had arranged for taxis to meet us at the school to take us (for 650som/person) to Kaji-Say, a village just east of Bokonbaev on the southern shore of Lake Issyk Kul. Josh and Derek (being students who didn’t have to work) had left earlier that day, and eight of us piled into two taxis for the journey at roughly 9pm. We arrived in Kaji-Say around 1am, and went to our homestay. Josh had arranged for us all to stay at Zina’s B&B, a very nice place run by the wife of one of Kyrgyzstan’s champion eagle hunters. (It isn’t affiliated with CBT, although it is in Lonely Planet.) The B&B was comfortable, except for one small problem: they didn’t have heat. I don’t know if this was because the power was out at night so electric heaters wouldn’t run, or if it was because the state heat hadn’t been turned on yet (if there even *is* state heat somewhere as remote as Kaji-Say). We were placed (nearly) all together in the top room of the home, which – fittingly – felt very much like an aerie.

We stayed in the little room atop the house

We were all miserably cold during the night, and as a result awoke quite early. We went downstairs for breakfast and met Ishenbek, the champion eagle hunter, for the first time. We also met Tuman, his gorgeous golden eagle.

Tuman, looking a tad grumpy early in the morning

After breakfast we loaded into a pre-arranged marshrutka (mini-van/bus) which drove us to a site just to the west of Bokonbaev where national traditional hunting championships were being held. This consisted of numerous eagle hunters and falconers, in addition to handlers of wolf hounds, archers and skilled horsemen. I had expected maybe ten eagles at the most, but there must have been at least fifty there with their handlers, in addition to numerous hawks, dogs and horses. I got my favorite pictures of the day before the competitions began, when elderly men on horseback lounged around with eagles on their arms, chatting with one another.

Ishenbek and Tuman





The Kazakh team had really awesome costumes

This man was really nice, and I was in love with his horse.

Ishenbek had told us that there would be a captive wolf at the festival, which would be released for the eagles to hunt. He told us that he was the only person – from both Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan – who was willing to pit his eagle against the wolf at the festival, and said that she’d killed three or four wolves in the wild. He was obviously very nervous about this, and I admit I was worried for gorgeous Tuman as well. We all anxiously awaited the release of the wolf... but many events came first.

I didn’t get very good shots of the first events, as my camera simply doesn’t have that great of a zoom. We watched first hawks and then wolf hounds compete to take down pigeons, rabbits and even a fox. The hawks were incredibly impressive and good at what they did. The dogs were less impressive, mainly because there was only one poor fox. It was killed after the first round, and its maimed carcass dragged behind a horse for subsequent rounds. It was rather distressing to watch, and the poor dogs obviously felt as though they’d been teased when they discovered that their “prey” was already dead.

When they began to launch the eagles (mainly against rabbits, although some were also launched against ye olde dead fox), it began to get more interesting. Ben, Evan and I climbed up the side of the mountain to the place from where the eagle hunters were launching their eagles, and I was able to get some rather decent shots:

Of course, these eagles are trained, but they are still wild animals and do not always do as they should. One turned away from its rabbity target and wheeled directly backwards at me and Ben. Oblivious to the people shouting at us to get out of the way, we stood in awe, not even photographing, as it swooped straight towards us. It landed on the ground roughly four feet in front of me.

It was while we were crouched on the mountainside, eagles being launched for attack over our heads, that we somewhat ingratiated ourselves with the local press pack, who would help us by pointing out which eagle would launch next and whatnot. Suddenly there was mass excitement as one shouted, “Davai! Volk!” and began bounding off the mountain. They were bringing out the wolf. Following the press pack (who were allowed past the annoying line behind which spectators had to stand), Ben, Evan and I found ourselves standing, cameras poised, not far from the wooden box wherein the captive wolf was held. At one point the alleged professional wolf handler (wearing a shirt which read: Kyrgyzstan – Land of Tourism no less!) came over and told us, “You do know there is a *wolf* in there? There might be problems.” No one moved.

During this time, Ben and I were feeling a bit of camera envy. Evan can blend into the press pack with his super awesome camera and amazing lens. My camera might be able to take great photos on occasion, but it doesn’t exactly scream “professional photographer.” I felt the need to say (in Russian) a few times that just because my camera was small didn’t mean I wasn’t a journalist. We even invented a newspaper to claim we worked for: Jane’s Daily.

Finally, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time waiting, they brought out the wolf hounds. Apparently they had decided to change plans and have the wolf tired out by the dogs before setting the eagles on it; this way, more eagle-handlers had agreed to participate in the eagle vs. wolves part of the event. While I feel that eagle vs. wolf is acceptable, I wasn’t too keen on one wolf taking on a pack of trained wolf hounds. And when they released the wolf, my heart sank; he was chained to a ball of iron. He could run around and even drag the iron ball behind him, but he could not escape. (I suppose the iron ball was probably a good thing for the dumbass journalists – myself included – as the wolf immediately charged us upon exiting his box. Most of us moved out of its way, as we do have some sense of self preservation. Meanwhile, Ben didn’t move at all, and just stood there taking photos. I wish I’d gotten one of him almost getting mauled. He had a rather narrow escape.

Then they released the dogs. They released the dogs in teams of two, starting with the least experienced and moving up to the most experienced. It was utterly heart-wrenching to watch the poor wolf, tied to a chain, defending himself against pair after pair of wolf hounds. I got some very bizarre looks from my journalist compadres for cheering loudly for the wolf in Russian. I must say that despite his handicap, the wolf gave better than he got, injuring numerous dogs. He was still standing at the end... or at least he was until Mr. Kyrgyzstan: Land of Tourism pinned him to the ground with what was essentially a two pronged pitch fork around his neck.

WARNING: Graphic video

Now that the wolf was tired out, he was taken to the center of the field and left on his chain to await attack by eagles. His mouth was also tied shut. Ishenbeck strongly disapproved of all of this, having wanted to prove himself and Tuman against a strong, healthy and free wolf. Additionally, eagles are trained to not attack domestic animals. As such, a tied wolf looks much like a domesticated dog, which rather confused the eagles. Not to mention that they’d had to wait an extra long time for the dogs to try to tire out the wolf. The eagles were cranky. And they were coming.

The first eagle that was launched was one of the Kazakh eagles. It started down toward the wolf, then veered sharply to the right and directly into a crowd of spectators sitting on the side of the hill, attacking one man and sending his companions fleeing for their lives. It was too far away for me to get decent pictures, but I did get some where you can see what was happening.

The man on the ground is the one who was attacked.

Madness took over. Everyone (spectators and journalists alike) ran towards the injured man – including Ben and I, who shamelessly sought to get photos of his wounds. (He was bleeding profusely from the side of his face, but unfortunately, I didn’t get any shots of it.) The Kazakh eagle swooped down towards the crowd just as Ishenbek launched Tuman toward the wolf. Tuman, heroine of the day, swerved off target and took down the Kazakh eagle, which made Ishenbek quite proud.

Ishenbek, proud that Tuman kicked Kazakh eagle ass.

While everyone was clustered around Ishenbek and the Kazakh eagle hunter, watching them disengage their birds (Tuman was fine, but she injured the Kazakh eagle), the fabulous green-coat eagle hunter with the awesome stallion (pictured near the beginning of this post) launched his eagle at the wolf. I didn’t get a good shot – and it was hard to tell what happened. The eagle definitely scored a hit, although it’s hard to tell how successful she would have been had the wolf been unfettered.

At that point, the festival was over. We walked back into Bokonbaev, had dinner at a local café, then met up with our marshrutka driver who took us back to Ishenbek’s home.

The next morning we again rose early, and piled back into the marshrutka – this time with Ishenbek and Tuman for company. Only in Kyrgyzstan!

We drove for about 45 minutes to another nearby village where horses were awaiting us. The horse-handlers first asked who among us had experience riding a horse. I said that I did. They looked me over and pointed at the horse and asked me if I was sure, as this horse was tough to handle. I said fine, and immediately mounted up. They even asked me if it was ok several times before we left, although I have no idea why. My horse was perfect. He did everything I asked, would turn on a dime, and was incredibly surefooted. And he never once tried to toss me, even though he had several decent opportunities (Val would not have passed those up!). Perhaps he just required someone with confidence to handle him? I have no idea what all the fuss was about. Plus, some of the horses my companions got were incredibly ornery and disobedient. (Although I suppose this might have been the reaction of the horse to the rider’s inability to control it.)

We set out over the steppe following Ishenbek and Tuman, and wound our way up into the mountain hunting grounds. We stopped atop several cliffs from where Ishenbek launched Tuman after several foxes. She came close to capturing them, but in the wild, the foxes have a fair chance; they were able to scurry under shrubbery and into holes just in time.

Ishenbek prepares to launch Tuman

We rode for a total of about six hours. After about four, we stopped for a break in a high mountain pasture, and relaxed on the grass with Ishenbek and Tuman and with our horses grazing unfettered nearby.

Isn't she gorgeous?

My trusty steed :-)

We made our way down towards a lower pasture, a scenic spot where Ishenbek allowed each of us to hold Tuman and have our photos taken. We were instructed to remain quiet; she had her mask on, and would panic if she heard the voice of someone other than Ishenbek holding her. She was incredibly heavy, and I could barely hold her up. Perhaps she could tell by the way I held her that I was not her master, and she began flapping her wings violently (here’s a nice pic of me mouthing a silent scream), but I was able to get some decent shots with her.

Almost immediately after we finished taking our photos, it began to storm, a painful mixture of rain, snow, sleet and hail. Our horses initially got a little spooked; Ben’s wouldn’t even let him mount for the longest time. We had a good hour or more of our ride left, and within minutes we were soaked to the skin and freezing cold. At one point as it was hailing, the horses began to slip and slide on the little balls of ice covering the trail. Both Josh’s and Ben’s horses fell down. Josh was able to jump clear in time, but Ben’s horse landed on his foot. Afterwards, Ben’s horse was so spooked that he wouldn’t let him remount, and he had to walk back.

By the time we returned to the village, we were miserable. The heater in the marshrutka helped a little, but not much. We returned to Ishenbek’s house in the early stages of hypothermia. Katy and I were so cold that we wanted nothing more than to get out of our wet clothes and into dry ones; meanwhile, we were so cold that our muscles wouldn’t do what we asked. All we could do was stand there, shivering and laughing hysterically. Eventually we got changed and hid under the covers until the marshrutka which we’d hired to drive us back to Bishkek arrived. Not surprisingly, I came down with a pretty horrific cold!

Our weekend was quite an adventure and I had a wonderful time, despite the sickening feeling that the wolf-torture left in my stomach. I don’t believe in Hell, although I do rather feel like I might be going there after watching the wolf vs. dogs event.

Internet has been slow and uncooperative of late - thus the delay in getting all of this online. I *have* uploaded 180+ pictures to flickr, but they are not in order, labeled or in a set (thanks, shmel). Anyway, you can still see them here, although they probably won't be organized until next week after I return home.

My weekend was incredible!

I watched a man get mauled by a golden eagle, held a (different) golden eagle (see the pic to your right), and damn near got hypothermia riding a horse down the side of a mountain in a hailstorm/blizard... Fantastic!! I have tons of photographs and videos to sort through and upload, but I'll try to have the post ready in the next day or two. Stay tuned!

A belated birthday present

One of my Korean students (who is actually a former student; he has Katy as his teacher now), brought me a birthday present yesterday. A bit late as my birthday was last month, but super sweet: Korean (quality! Dong A!) whiteboard markers, a whiteboard eraser, and a chain of miniature paper cranes with "Happy Birthday Jane" spelled out on their wings.

Cats and Hot Chocolate!!

This morning Ben and I got up early (which for both of us is a feat in and of itself) to go to the International Exhibition of Cats put on at the Russian Drama Theater (of all venues) by the Bishkek Cat-lovers Association. I'm not a big fan of cat shows and pedigreed cats in general (why pay money for a cat when so many are available for free?), but I'm not going to turn down the opportunity to enjoy some fabulous feline cuteness. There was a rather absurd number of Hairless Sphinxes and Scottish Folds at the show, considering that it was a fairly small event. I wonder why those two particular breeds are so popular? Anyway, here are my cat show photos - enjoy the cuteness!!

This one was supposed to pass herself off as a princess, but kept gnawing on her collar.

Somebody is not happy.

Gah!


It's a Kitler!!


This one was my favorite. Most were in these over-decorated cages, but this one was just in a bare cage. Nonetheless, it was super-cute and full of personality.

I loved how this giant orange cat was cowering behind the little sphinx.

This one looks like Shaggy and Linda's Hobbes. Allegedly it's a "Siberian" although I'd never heard of that as a breed of cat (other than the tiger) before!

This kitten was happily playing with its toy, oblivious of its surroundings.

After leaving the cat show, we met up with Katy at Cyclone, an Italian restaurant on Chuy near Beta Stores, which had the world's best hot chocolate. And they make a pretty damn tasty calzone as well.

Like a melted bar of fine dark chocolate.

Mmmmmm.

Katy and her hotchoc
Ben and his gargantuan and delicious calzone.