N 42.28.43 E78.23.09 Glorious Kyrgyzstan mountains

Momos (dumplings)  we met
some variation of these all the way from Turkey

Whitewater rafting along the Kazakstan border
with a group of Russian guides

Our home on Lake Issykul

delicious soft ice cream in a tiny
town near the walnut forest

We were in Kyrgyzstan from 6 to 22 June. Then we travelled through China and Tibet where all google products, including Blogger, were not accessible. So this post is being composed a month after our time in Kyrgyzstan. Time for reflection, but also a bit of creative memory, perhaps, where memory fails.

If Uzbekistan was beautifully restored silk road buildings, then Kyrgyzstan was Mother Nature showing off all her natural beauty. Except for one night in Bishkek, it was bush camps, hostels and homestays. We shared the beauty of the mountains, lakes, streams and alpine meadows with the local nomads in their felted yurts as well as their cows, horses, sheep and even a herd of yaks.

Begiam, our Kyrgyzstan guide, was as different as her country Where our guide in Uzbekistan, Bec, was a polished shoes, dress pants and shirt city guy, Begiam was coolmax shirt, technical pants and well worn hiking boots. Her love was her countryside and she did her best to share that love with us. She was shy and quiet, surprised that the guys in our group took an equal share of camp clean up and set up and was always willing to pitch in where needed. In a quiet moment, she mentioned that if she could travel out of country, she would love to visit Italy. That she had learned Italian in college. That she had trained to be a professional opera singer but there was no one to sponsor her for further education. The parallels to the shopkeeper in Tblisi who had also wished she could travel, Victims of the former soviet systems. The blessing of choice we have in first world countries.

Kyrgystan in some ways is a very new country. Like the other "former stans" it was created by the Soviets as a way to manage and administrate central Asia. Before that, nomadic tribes controlled areas or passed through. But in other ways, civilization here is as old as the silk road. Most written history has been removed to Moscow and the people of Kyrgyzstan are just starting to relearn their past.

Borders with neighbors are touchy issues. Large groups can't travel into the Fergana valley because of risk of terrorism - the valley is divided between Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan and Tajikistan thinks it should be theirs. the border with China is almost 200 km of no mans land.

Kyrgyzstan is a small poor country. It's resources are water, hydropower and the Kumtor gold mine (jointly owned with Canada). Nomads take their herds of sheep and cows up to the high pastures for summer grazing. The shepherds are actually employed by a number of farmers to care for the flocks as they travel which explained why we would see mixed groups of sheep wherever we went.

Our last homestay was at Karakol (which is also the name for a kind of sheep's wool that is very curly) The eagerly awaited felting workshop was as fun as I had hoped. My Calypso family tolerated my enthusiasm and many curious questions. I made notes of the meanings of some of the designs and the one I used on my journal quilt is the auroch (sheeps horns) symbolizing prosperity - not money, but health, happiness and family. Begaim also sent me traditional Kyrgyz designs that I will have a place in future quilts.

And following up with the rest of the water story- Kyrgyzstan would say that Uzbekistan keeps turning off their natural gas supply and what else can Kyrgyzstan do but threaten to turn off the water?

One of the designs Begaim sent

What I will remember about Turkmenistan.

The desert in all it's changing glory. Different colours, different patterns, sometimes very flat but at times in high hills. Hand placed nets of reeds along the roads to try and hold the sand in place.

The desert plants with beautiful tiny flowers if you looked carefully. The carefully tended plants where people were trying to make them grow.

Camels everywhere, apparently belonging to somebody but seeming to be their own camel. Sheep and shepherds where there was a bit of water. Insects and lizards.

Waiting by our truck on the side of the road and watching the little girls in their long traditional dresses and flip flops or bare feet running and playing. They were the first to come and check us out, then brought their little brothers and then their mums. Smiles the universal language.

Stopping for lunch on a concrete sidewalk in a small town and having the lady from the house on the corner invite us to use her toilet. Ok it was basic, but it was the best available. Smiles all around. Then discovering we were eating our lunch on another family's front yard when another lady opened her door to discover 19 people and a big truck on her step. She smiled, went past and then came back. Then she opened her door to show us her children (or show us to her children). More smiles and waves.

Playing tag with a British couple in their overland vehicle. Finally stopping for an hour or so on the road while our guys helped them make emergency repairs. Numerous chats about roads, border points, vehicles, where you've been and where to next. Spirit of overlanding.

The Darvaza gas crater. It was a fun evening and a wild 4X4 ride there and back. Interesting picture opportunities.

Finding a fabric shop in our brief bit of freedom and negotiating for 1/4 meter (not 25 meters!) of the perfect desert fabric for Turkmenistan's square on my travel quilt.

You can choose to get caught up in politics and bureaucracy or you can remember the important things. Just my thoughts.

N 40.23.05 E 71.47.15 Taxi Convoy to Fergana

If you look at a map of Uzbekistan you will see that the south east bit is joined by a very tiny neck of land. Odyssey's description of the Fergana valley is "lush and beautiful but the local inhabitants don't always agree with the central authorities in Tashkent". Consequently, the government doesn't allow busses or vehicles with more than five passengers over the pass into the valley.

So, Calypso, with Nico and Mikkel, slipped out of Tashkent last night doing her best to look like a truck. We left this morning in a convoy of taxis for the adventure. The plan was that the front car, with Bec and Theresa would start the explanations at any roadblocks.

First a word about drivers in central Asia. The lane markings are merely suggestions and usually the best place to drive is straddling the center line. Waiting patiently doesn't happen and passing with oncoming traffic is expected. Drivers communicate with taps of the horn - c'mon, get going, hey I'm at your corner and about to pass... Also to contend with on the roads are pedestrians, bicycles, donkey carts, tractors, scooters.

Driving in Calypso, you hardly notice this because we are the slow object everybody is passing. However, today we got the full benefit of the action on a very busy windy road with lots of truck traffic in both directions. I think our driver was a little frustrated because he was required to keep formation (as the last car, there were five cars ahead of him that he couldn't pass).

We only had to stop at one checkpoint and register our passports. It was a gorgeous drive over a pass at 1800 meters through the Pamir mountains (which are leading toward the Himalayas). Then down into this huge valley of prosperous(for the area) farms. Fergana produces most of the cotton, silk, and rice in Uzbekistan.

Along the way, we stopped for a lunch of pilov at a local tea house.

Last stop before our hotel was at a silk factory. They still use all hand methods and we got to see the process in detail (too much detail for some, but absolutely fascinating for me). And a piece of ikat silk (hand spun, hand died with natural dyes, hand woven) is coming home, too. Also a wee bit of the raw silk fiber and a piece of hand woven Iranian wool used to make carpets. One more piece of trivia is that the bright yellow is the Acacia flower.

Our hotel in Fergana is very decadent. And it's off to Kyrgyzstan in the morning.

Calypso made it over the pass like the trooper she is. Of course she's a truck. Just a wee bit of a problem with her driver going the wrong way down a street in Tashkent, apparently.

More on our time in Uzbekistan soon.