Adventures with Julia

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Yesterday we headed east from Bishkek through the fertile Chon Kemin Valley toward an 11th century silk road ruin called Burana Tower. Once it was a major trading center. When Genghis Khan passed through in 1218, the people went out to meet him and invited his troops into the city, if he would just not destroy it. Because they were so agreeable, he spared the city, renaming it Gobolik (Good Town). We climbed the uninteresting, partially restored minaret, from which we had a fine view of the valley and snow-capped peaks in the distance along with a group of boisterous school children. Of considerably more interest was a collection of 1500 year old balbals or man shaped stone grave markers. They are roundish in shape with faces carved into the top portion of the stone–a little like the shape of Russian dolls. They reminded us of similar stones in Mongolia.

Back on the road, Olga told us about a Kyrgyz and Russian tradition–the giving of children to needy relatives. For example, she was given to her grandmother and her step-grandfather when she was 12 because they needed help with household chores. The grandmother asked her daughter for her youngest child, who happened to be Olga. It was a happy situation, as Olga’s parents lived in a village in Kazakstan and Olga did not like village life. She was glad to live with her granny in a house in Bishkek and go to school in the city. Now that her parents are getting older, her nephew will be going to live with them. It is another happy situation as the boy was dying on the vine in a city apartment and is thrilled to be moving to a house in the village. This is one way in which families stay close and help each other. Family is most important all over Russia and the former Soviet countries. When Granny dies, Olga will get her house and when her parents die, the nephew will get that house. Olga, whose parents are Russian considers herself Russian with Kyrgyz citizenship. Regardless which country provides you citizenship, your ethnicity is most important.

We stopped in the village of Tokmok for lunch at a family guesthouse. The owners, Eric and Marina, had the traditional lunch waiting for us in their large house, complete with a separate gift shop. Mark bought a small bottle of what he thinks is local cognac. The best part of the meal was the chicken noodle soup. It was not too salty and had good flavor. Otherwise it was like all other traditional meals–several small plates of salads, bread, cold cuts, cheese, cookies and many small candies such as M&Ms on the table when we arrive; followed by soup and then an entree, hot tea and often desert. This entree was sticky rice and chicken–not as bad as many.

After a short stop at a cemetery so I could get some photos, we carried on to another village for our overnight in a local Guesthouse called Ashu. It was much larger than the place we stopped for lunch. Our accommodations were in a building with about 5 other rooms, each with its own bathroom. Our room was small, but adequate. We dropped our bags and, with Olga and Misha, walked through the village and cow pastures, over three creeks and up a hill with a 700 foot gain for a lovely view of the small valley and surrounding mountains. Back at the guesthouse, we had another traditional meal and went to bed. I could not even think about writing, although this guesthouse has 24 hour wifi in our room. We did check email before dropping off to sleep.

This morning, the sky was solid overcast and the air cool. Our plan was to continue east to a road stop, from which we would walk along the gorge to see a red rock canyon, not unlike Brice Canyon. However, when we arrived at the road stop neither Mark or I felt much like another 2 hour walk and Olga was suffering from an injured foot. So it was easy to give the gorge a pass. The photo of it looks good, but we just did not have the desire.

Today Olga told us about another local tradition–bride napping. In the past when a boy saw a girl he wanted to marry but did not think it would be possible in the ordinary way, he would snatch her and have sex with her. Then he would tell her parents that she had to marry him or she would not find another husband and would bring shame on her family. Of course the parents would consent. The wedding would be small and inexpensive. Sometimes a boy would do this because he could not afford a big wedding. In more recent times, as in the case of Olga’s sister, the boy knew that her Russian parents and his Kyrgyz parents would not approve and allow them to marry, so he had one of her friends snatch her and lock her in a room, while he got some elderly women from his clan to come and talk her into accepting the situation and marrying him. He had seen her on the university campus they both attended, but had never spoken to her. She remembered who he was once she saw him. Because his relatives talked her into the marriage, the parents had to consent. Olga says it has worked out OK as her sister seems happy. The couple lived in Bishkek for a time, but when they had a baby, the boy’s parents asked to have it. Olga’s sister did not want to give up her first child and refused, so they moved to Northern Kazakstan to get away from his family. They now have two children and another of the boy’s siblings has given a child to his parents.

We spotted Issyk-Kul Lake several miles before reaching our hotel near the middle of the north shore. At 182 km long, 65 km wide and 702 meters deep, it is the world’s second largest lake alpine lake behind Lake Titikaka in Bolivia. The elevation of the lake is 1600 meters and the water is 4% saline. We checked into our room at the Karven Four Seasons Resort (not the 5-star one you are thinking of). We have only a tiny view of the lake from our room, which is a good quarter mile from the shore, but the room is clean and comfortable. On our walk to the shore, we passed dozens of resort houses and sport facilities set in the best manicured gardens we have seen on this trip–fragrant, dark purple lilacs were all along the path and unfamiliar, late daffodils were in full bloom. The wind seemed to pick up as we walked and we were cold by the time we reached the dock. The water was icy dark blue and cold, like Lake Tahoe. The natural gravel beach is covered with imported sand, which blows everywhere in the wind. It was not long before we headed back to our room, where Mark read on the balcony and I wrote on the bed. Soon the wind became so fierce that sand was blowing everywhere and we could no longer see the lake or even the nearby trees. There were sprinkles but not much rain. I was happy to stay in the room until the squall blew over. We made lunch on snacks we had collected earlier.

Around mid afternoon, the weather had improved and we were getting itchy to do something, so we drove east to Cholpon-Ata, the nearby town, where we stopped to see the little and poor Greek Orthodox church built since 1991 that has about 60 regular attendees. It was located in a tightly packed neighborhood of small Russian houses and hard to find, but sweet in a sad sort of way.

From there we went to the open-air State Museum of 2000 year old Scythian Petroglyphs. Thankfully, there was no wind and the air was warmer, although the sky remained solid overcast. We wandered around what looked like a huge garden of boulders from nearly the lake shore to the base of the mountains. One petroglyph led to another until we had walked all over the boulder field having fun photographing ancient drawings of camel, deer, ibex,stick men hunting ibex and several kinds of lichen growing on many of the rocks.

Dinner was served in a theater style dining room that reminded me of Reno floor shows.
Olga arranged for us to have duck breast–a pleasant change. Over dinner we learned that Kyrgyzstan is the one country in Central Asia that allows private ownership of land by both locals and foreigners. The land reform law took effect in 1998 with the assistance of USAID. Kazakstan allows ownership of land by locals, but not foreigners. Kyrgyzstan is also the only country for which we did not need a visa, and it is the most liberal of all the stans. People have the right to free speech and free press and, with a permit, to bear arms.

We talked a lot about the Kyrgyz language and their legendary hero, Manas. The Kyrgyz alphabet was changed into Cyrillic during the 1940s by Aaly Tokombaev. Prior to then, Kyrgyzstan had used the Uzbek alphabet. Tokombaev used the new alphabet to transcribe the Kyrgyz epic poem, Manas, into written form for the first time. The poem has over 500,000 lines, is 20 times longer than the Iliad and Odyssey combined, and takes weeks to recite. The history of the poem dates back 1000 years and has been passed down by manaschi, or story tellers. The epic is a collection of myths, folklore, and legends about the warrior hero Manas and his successors. Its theme reflects Kyrgyzstan’s nomadic past, beset by enemies and constant battles and focuses on the struggle for freedom. It is a three part epic that begins with Manas, the brave leader who unites the Kyrgyz people against foreign enemies and brings justice, brotherhood and unity. After he is mortally wounded in battle, the second part follows the adventures of his wife and son, Semetei, and the third part tells of the adventures of his courageous grandson, Seitek. The epic is so important to the Kyrgyz people that there is a mausoleum for him and statues of him throughout the country. A museum was built for the 1000th anniversary celebrations in 1995 and thousands visit it each year.

Olga gave us each Kyrgyz names. Mark is Markus Curtisovich, that is son of Curtis, and I am Julia Franklinovna, daughter of Franklin.

Enough. We are off to bed and I hope to get this posted first.
Love and Hugs, Julia