Kyrgyzstan

6.08 - 6.14

So after 7 km of somewhat difficult cycling through no mans land, I pulled into Kyrgyzstan immigration/customs. The Kyrgyz immigration office was basically two trailers in the middle of nowhere.
"Do you speak Russian?" - Kyrgyz immigration officer
"Uhhhh, no"

So a stamp was delivered and after registering in a few books, I was on my way. At the Chinese border I met Peter, a German cyclist who had been cycling the majority of his 52 years (some 100,000 km). He had just cycled through China some 3 months from Hong Kong, so we kept each other company while we enjoyed the beginning stretches of Kyrgyzstan. It was cold, the scenery was drastically different from the last few days in China. The Pamir range of Tajikistan came into view, which was absolutely breathtaking.

The last 4 days of China were mostly dry deserty mountains with every type of vegetation trying to stick into my skin and poke a hole in my tire. Now it was grassy rolling hills with white giants in the background. All of the road signs were now in Cyrillic (Russian), people were talking to me in Russian and I had absolutely no idea what they were saying (nothing new), I was indeed finally out of China. The road degraded from beautiful asphalt to noncompacted stones and gravel. I chose to bypass the majority of this washboard nightmare of a road and cycled mostly on the grassy plain that surrounded the road. The views were absolutely incredible

Finally standing on grass (Pamir Mountains in background)

We cycled until sunset and were waved into a house by an english speaking Kyrgyz girl. This was my first encounter with Kyrgyz people and their unprecedented hospitality. They cooked us diner, made us a bed of blankets on the floor and charged us absolutely nothing. I spent the night eating potatoes and naan, drinking chai and writing down Kyrgyz words to study while I cycled.

This is the house we stayed at

So I continued to Sary Tash, a beautiful town that connects Kyrgyzstan with Tajikistan. After a meal of 'Akaretchka' (Chicken in Russian) and Monteu (dumplings) I continued cycling towards Osh. The roads in Kyrgyzstan were much different than those in China. Most of the grades were a steep 12% and the roads were mostly dirt intermixed with rocks. The Chinese were rebuilding the road but were still a long way from completion. This was an epic day, the terrain turned into beautiful grassy rolling hills, the color green overwhelmed my sights. Kyrgyzstan has only been a country for some 19 years, previously part of the Soviet Union. Kyrgyz people are mostly semi-nomadic, like Tibetans, during the summer months they live in yurts high in the mountains to let their livestock graze on the endless grassy resources and in the winter they relocate to mud huts and houses in warmer areas. The average Kyrgyz person makes a whopping $300 per year. The population of Kyrgyzstan is said to be outnumbered 10 times in number by sheep, horses and donkeys. Kyrgyz kids are put on horses at early ages, I saw many kids who couldn't have been over 6 years old riding gigantic horses.

So I cycled some 250 km towards Osh, through some beautiful terrain. Along the road I was passed by a car with a Kyrgyz family on vacation in the mountainous region of Ali. They invited me to be a guest in their home if I was ever in Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan.

It was about 6 pm, 2 days after leaving Sary Tash and the black clouds came rolling in. I was still 40 km from Osh so I decided to ask a local herder if I could pitch my tent underneath his barn. He kind of gave me this confused look like 'why would you want to do that?' then said 'dorma' and pointed me inside his house. The family and I instantly bonded. I saw a mangled bicycle hanging from the wall of their all-in-one barn/kitchen/diner room. I pulled out my tools and Neuron (the youngest son) and I spent a few hours repairing the bicycle until he was racing around the farm with a huge smile on his face. This family was great, they made me a bed of blankets, they hinted that I needed a shave, then proceeded to straight-razor shave my face, they killed a sheep for me and we had a feast of 'pilof' (rice) and sheep. All of this without being able to speak a lick of Kyrgyz or Russian.

The faces of kindness from the all-in-one room

Refreshed and on fire for life, I pulled into Osh and spent a few days enjoying Beefsteaks, a Russian dish of mashed potatoes, macaroni, and rice topped with a beef patty then topped with gravy and a fried egg and as always accompanied by a naan and bottomless chai. Beefsteaks turned out to be a big hit for me in Central Asia.

I had heard a lot of wonderful things about Tajikistan and the beauty of the Pamir Highway, so after some brief research I decided I needed to get a Tajikistan visa in Bishkek. The sooner the better so from Osh I decided I would begin to cycle towards Bishkek, some 800 km away, then hitch the rest of the way to time my arrival with the opening of the embassy on Monday (currently Friday). So I left Osh after another lovely beefsteak meal and headed towards Jalalabad. About 5 km into the cycle, a semi truck passes me with it's horn completely laid on. I kind of shrugged it off but noticed that the truck was also toting a bicycle in addition to the gigantic boulders on the flatbed. The truck then put on the brakes. "Get in"...it was Peter, the German cyclist, sitting shotgun. He was also on his way to Bishkek to sort out the 'bloddy visas' and he repeatedly put it. So another bicycle was added to the cargo and away we went, bumping down the road, trying to keep our teeth from chattering. The truck consisted of a Kyrgyz man and his nephew. I sat behind the front seats with the nephew, constantly ducking to avoid getting flagged by the Kyrgyz police. That brings me to another very interesting fact about Kyrgyzstan...the police are incredibly corrupt. They don't really do anything all day except flag cars from the side of the road and demand that they pay them money. It's actually quite funny, sometimes you are pulled over 5 times on the same street and the people don't seem to mind.

So we only rode about 4 hours towards Bishkek when the semi took a turn into a neighborhood, we pulled into a house and cut the engine; he had brought us to his house. We were then introduced to his family and they prepared us a feast of rice, sheep, naan and chai. They made us a bed of blankets and I was once again astonished by the unprecedanted hospitality of these people....this would never happen in the States, bring two random stinky strangers into your home and roll out the red carpet.

So we left the next morning, full of chai, bread and chocolates. We thanked the family for all of their kindness and began rolling down the road. The landscape was astonishingly green and beautiful.

We weren't exactly racing down the road and the police continually stopped us for bribes, so when we did finally arrive in Bishkek it was 4 am. The truck wasn't going through town so they dropped us off on the side of the road about 15 km from town (never once asking for money). Peter didn't have a tent so he just wrapped himself up in my tarp and slept in the field...52 years old. "You know another good place to sleep?.......a cemetary" - Peter said just before being dropped off in the field. Peter once slept in a jail cell in Africa because he had nowhere to sleep. He just walked into a jail and asked if he could sleep there.