A Bump and a Bleet

With the spring weather and the prospect of returning home on the horizon, I have been trying to get out of Bishkek.

This weekend, the weather looked good and we decided to go climbing. there were six of us. A French couple biking from France to Nepal, Christine (French Alpine Fund volunteer and host to the couple), a British English teacher, Colin (American boyfriend to Christine and Alpine Fund volunteer) and myself met Saturday morning at a round about.

After a frustrating if predictable discussion about the merits of taxis vs. a mashrootka we found ourselves compelled to get into a van. By compelled I mean that all of that taxi drivers sort of started yelling and urging us to get into the car. The first thing I noticed was a bad smell coming from the car. The second thing I noticed was that there were 3 sheep in the back. The driver told us "just throw your stuff in the back." We gingerly put the packs on the sheep and squeezed into one row of seats.

There was no time be cranky about safety.

As we sped and bounced our way up into the mountain valley the sheep remained calm and collected. Then we swerved around a machine pulling up asphault. The back opened up.

Said I, "Excuse me, your door has opened"

"ehhhe, the door opened, yes?"

"Hey mate, I think this sheep is going to fall out," stated my British colleague.

"Yeah, it is open." I assumed that would be enough information.

We drove on.

"You might want to stop."

"This sheep is definitely going to go"

"Your sheep will fall out if you don't stop"

Unphased, our driver pressed onward.

"And there is goes," I looked behind and there was a sheep, legs tied and one of our backpacks on the road.

"Stop. Your sheep fell. Oi, stop." I urged to no avail. The driver remained unconvinced. Then all of us yelled at him at once and he finally stopped the van. I guess he really didn't want to stop. He only seemed to do it because it might shut us up.

They heaved the sheep in with a THUNK. and slammed the rear door several times as the sheep bleeted. Finally, the door remained shut. All of the bags were unloaded but somehow mine got missed. As the driver pulled away I yelled. Then I banged on the side of the van. Then I opened the door. Only when I had seated myself in the moving vehicle and asked him for the sixth time to stop did he finally yield. Here was a man who really didn't like to stop.

It is possible that his Russian (or mine) was really so bad that we were having a communication impasse. But "stop" is something that everyone has to learn to say to get around Bishkek and I have not met anyone yet with such bad Russian. I maintain that this was a man who really did not like to stop.

During the hike to the canyon we greeted an old man. He said "what nazis." I stopped and asked him what he was talking about.

"Oi, you're not Russian!" he said in Russian.

"No, I am American, he is british and those guys are French." I left Colin out because he was standing with the French folks.

"Oi, that's great. Nevermind."

The climbing was great. It rained at least half the night and my bivy passed it's second test. We had interesting conversations about traveling and how everyone seems to not appreciate the American government. The French couple leave for Kazakhstan tomorrow where they will not have to to through a friend of the Chinese consulate to pay a bribe for a Chinese visa.