After crossing Irkeshtam Pass with a broken chain, I entered a country whose name I couldn’t even pronounce.
Completely unknown to me, a land which immediately struck me for the enormous differences with the neighboring great China: Cyrillic language, Soviet influences, nomadic peoples and a pristine amazing nature.
From Osh to Bishkek – camping in Arslanbob, in front of Issyk Kul lake and, with the nomads, among the magical silences of Song Kul lake – discovering one of the most amazing countries of my whole journey: KIRGHIZISTAN.
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25 and 26 August, Osh ◀ Days 332/333 🇰🇬 ▶
I reached Osh on a Thursday evening. With the help of an offline navigator and Ruzik’s guide I looked for Tes Guesthouse, a place Fernando advised on the same day (during the everlasting stage from Kashgar).
I was tired and hungry.
The navigator led us in front of a blocked bridge, just a few hundred yards from the Guesthouse. Ruzik, after unloading my bags, hold my hand and wished me something in Russian. In the darkness of a new country – and, as you may remember, with a broken chain – he probably sighed a “good luck” in some Kyrgyz accent.
A good man, recognizing me as a stranger and spotting me moving blindly, approached me and asked straight “Hostel?”.
“Da!” – I replied.
His finger immediately pointed to the right, and I understood I just should follow something behind the corner.
Tes Guesthouse was right behind it.
A sigh of relief.
I could not believe it.
I was expecting a purulent hole, and instead I found tents, bicycles of other cycletravellers (much more serious than me, to be honest), beers, roses and Nicola’s pizza, another Italian traveler who instantly made me feel like home by using his joviality.
Osh, very briefly, smiled at me from the beginning.
The next morning (yesterday), with Rae, Jens and Julia, I could immediately set up the bike chain. Then I pitched my tent and started lying in Osh’s almost maternal warmth; warm days and chilly nights lulled me right after. Laundry, exercises, long chatting and some cooking have been my only occupations.
Some thoughts abouts the days to come, but not too many.
Tomorrow, Sunday, I’ll try to get out of the nest I’ve been sleeping in during the last two days.
Looking for Osh.
27 August, Osh ◀ Day 334 🇰🇬 ▶
Osh is not a beautiful city.
Actually I don’t think anyone would be offended if I said that Osh is even quite an ugly one.
But …
But in Osh there is a Bazaar where senses dance, there is a park where people of all ages play and have fun, there is a river where children swim continuously, there are avenues and benches for chatting, flowers on sidewalks and sincere looks, there are mosques, Lenin statues and a sacred mountain, where the Kyrgyz go to pray, waiting for sunrise and sunset.
So, Osh may also be ugly, but it’s an incredible concentrate of life.
A good kind of life.
That kind of life that makes me think, at times, that putting roots doesn’t even seem an impossible thing.
If I only was able to understand Russian.
28 August, Arslanbob ◀ Day 335 🇰🇬 ▶
Osh – Arslanbob in one shot (if almost three hours on three local minibuses can be considered like that) in order to carry the backpack to waterfalls, forests and stars from a night on the Kyrgyz mountains.
29 August, Arslanbob ◀ Day 336 🇰🇬 ▶
When you choose to travel for a long time, alone, trying partly to follow an itinerary and partly to let things happen, something always come on your way.
Energies don’t find a place when you stand still, but when you move – even if in disorganized and sometimes unconscious ways – they overflow.
There are days when it happens only a little, and finding something to tell is not always easy; there are some other instead when choosing words and photographs sounds almost like a small sacrilege.
Today is one of those days.
Photographs would not be fair enough.
Words just go away.
Because never before would I ever think about finding three friends in Osh.
Or organizing a two-day trek with them in a place called Arslanbob.
Or leaving my bicycle and weights in a farmer’s house and starting walking up to towards 5000m high peaks.
Or looking for firewood in the evening, in the middle of unknown valleys, to light a bonfire and grate randomly cut meat over a glowing stone.
Or waiting for sleep staring at the stars over Kyrgyzstan.
And never would I ever think that, one day close to 34, I would have crossed a third of the world and then suddenly … wake up here.
In front of this.
30 August, Arslanbob ◀ Day 337 🇰🇬 ▶
A name that until yesterday meant nothing to me.
And that from now on I will never forget.
A place.
In Kyrgyzstan.
Arslanbob.
31 August, towards Bishkek ◀ Day 338 🇰🇬 ▶
When a “simple” 500 km stage in shared minivan becomes a journey itself.
With the good fortune of having travel companions to spend time with, and a Muslim driver who stops every now and then to pray.
Always choosing very bad places to do it.
2 September, Bishkek ◀ Day 340 🇰🇬 ▶
After a whole day in the hostel because of fever, today I went out to discover a bit of Bishkek.
Bishkek is the Capital of Kyrgyzstan.
Ala Too Square is the most important square of Bishkek. Ergo, the most important square in Kyrgyzstan.
Here it is.
I still think that Pizzighettone’s one is better.
A bit like it was in Riga last year.
Not a country for squares, I would say.
3 September, Bishkek ◀ Day 341 🇰🇬 ▶
To keep talking about Kyrgyz Squares, this is what happens during the warm hours of the day at Ala Too, main square in Bishkek, in front of the National Museum.
Something like going to Piazza Navona or the Trevi Fountain, and seeing children playing waterpolo.
I love this country.
4 September, Bishkek ◀ Day 342 🇰🇬 ▶
The visa hassle has started again, something that makes me crazy joyful.
For the occasion, I used again my secret weapon.
No.
Not the naughty hair that sneaks off the shirt.
Another one.
The most famous one.
Enthusiasm.
5 September, Kyzart ◀ Day 343 🇰🇬 ▶
After four days closed due to holiday and weekend, yesterday I could finally visit the Uzbek Embassy in Bishkek.
Documents delivered; apparently everything went smoothly.
For the new visa I’ll have to wait, but I knew it already.
To stay in Bishkek was useless, so I chose – after Arslanbob – to share a new experience with Nicola and Charles, whose company in these days I find extremely enjoyable.
Kyrgyzstan, even if a small nation, offers many natural attractions and opportunities to have outdoor fun.
In our case, the choice fell on Lake Song Kul.
Maybe trekking, maybe horseriding.
We’ll find it out from tomorrow, probably without phone lines for a couple of days.
In fact, today flew away in an effort to reach Kyzart village, the last non-nomadic spot before the mountains which slide into the Lake.
An adventure, like any other transfer on these lands. Long, uncomfortable and complicated, but beautiful.
A magnificent overture, worthy of the best composers.
Prelude of what will be tomorrow’s symphony, discovering a new jewel of Kyrgyzstan.
6, 7 and 8 September, Song Kul ◀ Days 344, 345 e 346 🇰🇬 ▶
I wish I was able to write something more about this unexpected horseriding adventure towards Song Kul Lake, but still I didn’t manage to wake from the dream I fell in and have been staying for 3 days.
I just hope that these 30 pictures (with captions) can talk for me.
9 September, Issyk Kul ◀ Day 347 🇰🇬 ▶
After three days at three thousand meters, between wind, cold, horses, yurts and mountains … I thought it was the right time to go to the sea.
Just a pity that oceans and seas are galaxies away from Kyrgyzstan; like looking for a good wine in Iceland or a succulent burrata in Phnom Penh.
However, at 1606 meters above sea level, surrounded by mythical snowy peaks, in a little piece of land between gigantic Kazakhstan and China, lays Issyk Kul.
Translation = warm lake.
The largest lake in Central Asia.
Ah, what a wonderful country.
10 September, Issyk Kul ◀ Day 348 🇰🇬 ▶
Imagine a Sunday morning like a pigeon on Lake Issyk Kul, in Kyrgyzstan.
What unlucky creatures.
11 September, Karakol ◀ Day 349 🇰🇬 ▶
One day detour – and several hours of extra transfer – to reach a new town: Karakol.
Not because I found it hilarious (for its Spanish translation “caracol – snail”), nor because it’s the starting point for innumerable and phantasmagoric trekking routes to the holy Tien Shan mountains, nor even for being a particularly beautiful place (as you can imagine from the photo).
Simply, because of some friends.
To say goodbye to Charles and Nicola; a tall, silent and gentle French guy, and a crazy, exuberant Italian one from Trieste, my great travel companions for the last two weeks, who decided to go for a trekking-week between the mountains of Eastern Kyrgyzstan and therefore going another way.
And to hug again Vicki, a Canadian woman with contagious smile, warm heart and innumerable tales, traveler since ages and a great ambassador for positivity, who maybe someone of you would remember: she was the one – together with her partner Chris – who helped me on a hot and rainy Vietnamese day in February, when I was looking for an impossible place to stay for the night in a chaotic and busy Nha Trang, packed with tourists due to Tet festivities.
Meeting paths.
People. Travel companions. Friends.
As always, among the purest and most unforgettable memories of all this long solo travelling.
12 September, Bishkek ◀ Day 350 🇰🇬 ▶
See you soon, Samarkand.
It’s official: big red nose is coming!
14 September, Bishkek ◀ Day 352 🇰🇬 ▶
Kyrgyzstan, among all the countries that I have been fortunate enough to visit in recent times, besides being one of the most beautiful, is certainly among the most hospitable ones.
Not only because of the places (sublime) and the people (friendly and helpful), but also because it is among the few Asian countries which allow many nationalities to enter without visas or any kind of permits.
Stamp on the border and – BAM! – 60 free days.
A heaven, especially considering the countless attractions of this land.
Osh, Arslanbob, Bishkek, Song Kul, Issyk Kul, Karakol are the ones I gave to myself, from the day I entered; I could still stay here more than a month without getting bored, but the road to home is still long and autumn is approaching.
New destinations are already warming up their recall, so this morning I decided that today would be the last day in Kyrgyz country.
What to do then?
Wander lazy for 24 hours in the capital again?
Or pedal 20 km to the mountains of the Southern valleys, go on a marshrutka (local sardine cup-van dressed as public transport) for half an hour, get to a park entrance, hitchhike (bicycle included) for the last 10 km of steep climb and start walking among the treasures and mountains of Ala Archa?
The answer is in these photographs.
Not the best luck in terms of weather, but certainly a proper farewell to this marvellous land.
Thank you, Kyrgyzstan.
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