On to Song Kul

Boz-Uii on Song Kul at Sunset

Kyrgyzstan’s climate is similar to that of the Northern Mid-West. The summers are long and warm, sometimes hot but rarely unbearable. Spring and fall are dramatic seasons of change and pass fairly quickly. Winter is long and cold. Conditions occasionally attain severity of Arctic proportions. Winter usually arrives in October and settles in during November.

I had about 10 days set aside for the first portion of my rural language and cultural emersion. To make the most of the time, I decided to stay somewhere high and pretty. Song Kul, a large lake situated between large mountain ridges was suggested to me by the good people at CBT who suggest these sorts of things. Song Kul is typical of many adventure-tourism destinations in that it is famous for being outstandingly pristine and remote. This pristine remoteness is not to be missed, so anyone in the area with the means makes it a point to get there for a visit and soak in the isolated beauty for herself. Most of the National Parks in the West of the US present a similar paradox. Also like many National Parks, Song Kul often seems to be a “preserve” in name only. True, there is no heavy industry, but locals use the entire preserve to graze herds. The lake supports a few local fisherman. Cars and trucks traverse the preserve to move people, goods and dismantled yurts, boz-uii in Kyrgyz. CBT has 5 or 6 member families living on the Northeast shore of the lake. Most could accommodate about a dozen tourists on a given night. In peak tourist season in Kyrgyzstan, the wilderness leans heavy toward industrious rustic retreat.

Fortunately, I arrived late enough in the season that relatively few tourists, whether from Bishkek or abroad, ventured a visit.

With so much time on my hands for a single location, I elected to arrive on horseback. I have had lots of opportunities to backpack, and I thought I would try something different this time. After a day wasted running back to Bishkek to work on (or around) visa issues, we set off. My guide was Altynbek. He graduated a little over a year ago from the National Univerity in Naryn. During the tourist season he stayed busy and did pretty well for himself as an out-and-easygoing guide with a solid command of English. But before winter, he would be moving to Bishkek where a competitive and arduous job search awaited him. On a side note, this country has amazing potential for skiing, and it would help even out the irregularities of the tourist season, but the necessary investments in infrastructure are just not there.

We got a ride to a town higher in the mountains and closer to Song Kul than Koch Kor, the tourist starting point in the area. There we ate lunch and rented horses. Then we rode.

We followed a valley drainage up into the hills. The climb was gradual and for the first couple of hours we took a road. We passed farms and pasturelands pretty much constantly. Now and then we met traffic coming the other way: a kid walking toward town, an old man on a donkey-drawn cart, a Shepard moving his flock, a herder on horseback, meandering cows and a gigantic Soviet truck taking people and supplies high into the hills.

It was very picturesque. We didn’t talk much in good cowboy fashion. Altynbek knew that I was trying to keep to Kyrgyz, and my deficiencies for making lazy yet dynamic conversation were painfully clear from the start. So most of the time we said nothing. Then when I asked him about a word or a phrase we launched into a half-hour long session of new words and phrases. It was overwhelming, but being otherwise indisposed, I was surprised at how much of it stuck.

Sticking to Kyrgyz was a pain and certainly undercut most any sort of potential for comradeship between us (that and the fact that I was another tourist). We could have jabbered back and forth in English about this or that, or maybe in Russian, but instead we just kept it to the basic necessities of communication. These are few and far between when the only real task is to follow the other horse.

We left the river valley for a ridge that took us higher into the mountains. Then we skirted mountainsides until we came to a sort of mid-way point on a pass that was fairly flat. Even high, in parts of the mountains that looked like they could be nothing but cold, lonely and generally foreboding all winter, there were houses and animal pens. Each was of a different size. As with most truly functional rural agricultural dwellings, everything was in a state of falling a part and being repaired or abandoned. Some places looked like they could only hold a durable couple. Others were large enough that a small family and perhaps a relative or two in need of some employment could live comfortably. I was surprised to see year round dwellings at 10,000 ft. Until recently this area was pure jailuu, summer pasture. The people and the livestock moved to warmer, safer, more nutritious locations for the winter.

Our first night we stayed with a couple and a Russian helper in his 50s or 60s. Most Russians stick to the capital and a couple of larger town in the north. To see one in such a rural area, and living with a Kyrgyz family is unusual. They had a permanent dwelling of metal and concrete about 200 yards from their cluster of boz-uii. When we arrived I was greeted with a “hello!” A Belgian couple I had briefly met in Bishkek at my host-family’s guest house greeted me. It’s a small small world on a lesser-developed country’s tourism circuit.

First Night's Locale

We ate well. We sang songs. Being a camp counselor really came in handy for that. Then we went to bed. Their guide was a 21 year old female from the same university and department Altynbek had graduated.

So they chatted and messed around with each other’s cell phones long into the night. With less money and less space and no traditions of “privacy” or “personal space” people in Kyrgyzstan are much more inclined to go about their business in a shared space. Rather than the burden being on the active to rein it in when others are trying to engage in a peaceful activity, the presumption is that sleeper/reader/quiet activity-er will adjust. This runs pretty much complete against every notion of fundamental consideration for others held by cultures from Europe and North America. Its one of those cultural differences that you know is relative and all about perception, but is tough to swallow when you want to go to sleep.

The next day we got up and over the pass and headed down to Song Kul. By this point the horses were happy to be headed down hill for a change and I was more comfortable. So we ran a lot. That was exhilarating. And, boy, do I have a ways to go before being comfortable on a horse (physically or mentally).

We reached the lake on its Northwest shore. We stopped for tea and lunch with a couple of families that herded in that area. Shortly after we pulled up all the men came one by one out of the boz-uii. By the time we left many could barely stand. Fortunately there were donkeys to lean on.

The most hilarious character was an older man who traveled around the lake in his old Lada and sold basic goods to the people that lived there. The basic goods were mostly cigarettes and vodka for the men, candy for the kids and vegetable oil and vegetables to the wives. He was the first person in the area to really open up to me. It was nice to have a local really want to have a conversation with you. This silver cloud had a dark lining. He was wasted so whatever I might have otherwise been able to understand was obscured beyond even Altynbek’s ability to understand. It is my understanding, however, that if I stay in Koch Kor that I can stay with him. So I got that going for me, which is nice.

Altynbek and the Merry Gentleman Trader

We ran the last 3 kilometers in a little more than an hour. The horses were just as pleased with the flat as they had been with the downward slop.

The highlight of all this was seeing horses on the open range in such a breathtaking location. They just look at home up there, over here in Central Asia. It’s really gorgeous. Anyone who harbors distaste for horseback riding should give it a shot in big country of dry grass on rolling hills at the feet of snowy peaks beneath an expansive open sky. When those planets align, tshe day is auspicious for horse riding.

In conclusion, horses are indeed more photogenic than sheep
As we headed into our final destination the sun disappeared and the wind picked up.

Koch Kor, Peace Kor

Koch Kor is a town of a several thousand people located between Bishkek and Narin. Like most cities in this incredibly mountainous country, Koch Kor is nestled in a large valley situated between towering mountain ranges the higher peaks of which reach around 15,000ft. In these mountain valleys the soil is excellent and agriculture and livestock production prospers.

Koch Kor is not a major trade destination but huge volumes of goods pass through the town. Koch Kor sits along one of the country’s main highways leading from the capital to the Togurt Pass and onward to China’s Kashgar. My share taxi passed many nearly identical trucks along the road. Each was white with black Chinese symbols painted along the sign. Near Bishkek along the road leading to the city’s Dordoi and Osh bazaars these trucks were lined up for more than a mile on either side of the road. I am not sure why, but the volume of traffic was truly impressive. The only place that I have seen that compares is the ports of Seattle and Tacoma. These ports probably move more goods on a given day than the truckers on their way from Kashgar to Bishkek, but the cargo is never so apparent and visible as it was here as we drove past truck after truck delayed on the highway.

Koch Kor hosts an organization called Community Based Tourism Kyrgyzstan CBT-Kg . This NGO is dedicated to connecting tourists inclined to a somewhat grittier itinerary with locals who live somewhat gritty lives in astoundingly beautiful location. The goals of the organization are three fold: to increase the standard of living of the member families, to preserve traditional cultural through tourism and to preserve the natural environment. The Kyrgyzstan version of CBT is based upon previous successes in Nepal and Tibet.

The organization accommodates travelers who do not speak local languages and appreciate the security of working with a well-established business but want their money to go to average families, rather than businessmen in Bishkek. Locals get assistance getting involved in the tourism industry. The prices work great for everyone involved: $20/day includes transportation along rough mountain roads, a guide/translator, three homemade authentic native meals, and a place to sleep. The money then gets divided amongst the driver, guide/translator and host family. Each of whom earns a good local wage. Travelers get cheap, authentic and feel morally upright. Locals get sound sustainable income and can continue living a more traditional way of life.

There are a couple of faults or deficiencies. For travelers that want a well-polished experience, CBT may not be the best fit. All of the guides/translators I met (perhaps 5 in all) were current students or recent graduates of a Kyrgyz university. Their service seemed to me to be precisely adequate. Every need was met but there was something lacking that was hard to put my finger on but I think it boiled down to a lack of experience/confidence. Often there was little communication about what was going to happen. When people are in a new place and have no idea what is going on, it generally puts them at ease to give them a little heads up of what to expect and a couple little tidbits to help people appreciate what they see.

On the other side of the equation, it was unclear to me if CBT offered much in the way of growth opportunities for locals. The income sound and well distributed but seemed limited to the low-budget adventure traveler. That’s a good market to have cornered in Kyrgyzstan but it might be nice to offer a more polished experience for a shinier price.

I am using CBT to improve my Kyrgyz. The families live in places where Russian is not spoken and there are few, which is to say no, distractions from working on the language. I stayed at a local guesthouse in the town before heading off for the final destination – Song Kul, a large lake high in the mountains well. Several families fish and herd on the shores of the lake. Though there is a road, I had plenty of time on my hands, so I elected to get there on horseback. That took 2 days. I had another week at the lake.

I had a night in Koch Kor before taking off. I stayed with a family that runs a small guest house and hosts a Peace Corps volunteer. The volunteer had just started in on her second year on site. She was in Koch Kor as a health volunteer. The health program is brand new to Kyrgyzstan. Peace Corps volunteers are among the few foreigners I have met in Kyrgyzstan who speak Kyrgyz well and almost no Russian.

Her efforts and achievement sounded familiar for Peace Corps volunteers. The first year was frustrating as the language skills were still falling into place. With no familiarity with the local social landscape, choosing a project that effectively integrates with local needs and capacities is tricky. The first effort made was to place garbage cans around the town. People frequently complain of the omnipresence of garbage in Kyrgyzstan. Whenever one finished a wrapper from a piece of candy, it’s thrown to the ground. The bottles, pieces of paper and other assorted refuse fill the gutter and litters the streets and sidewalks. The effort to get garbage cans stalled out pretty quickly as local official could not agree about who would collect the garbage or how the service could be paid for.

The second project, informed by the experience of the first, was smaller and much more successful. The volunteer organized an effort to pick up trash along the shore of Song Kul. She went through CBT, which thanks to its tourism business has many contacts at the lake. She received some funding from a grant for publicity, new outhouses and small garbage cans. On the appointed day early in the tourist season foreign tourists and local residents of Song Kul partnered up to clean the area. They picked up a lot of trash (maybe a ton or so) and everyone enjoys the upgraded outhouses. The cans showed up late and will not be delivered until next season. There is still plenty of litter in the area but a sustained effort has to start somewhere and hopefully some follow though will help improve habits, rather than simply reset appearances.

Another project was completed with the help of the American Embassy. Each US embassy and ambassador has a set amount of money to be used for discretionary spending in the community. The embassy budgeted money to bring over a former NBA player to do a day or two of basketball clinics for local kids to promote activity and sports. The volunteer needed a project and the embassy needed someone with local connections to facilitate the clinic. So the embassy spent thousands of dollars flying a rich athlete half-way around the world so that kids that had never heard of him before could learn how to dribble. The embassy also funded the purchase of basketballs. In a country where kids often only get to go to school for half a day because there are not enough teachers or supplies for a full day, spending thousands of dollars on an NBA player and basketballs seems like it’s a lot more about the USA than about people in Kyrgyzstan. The volunteer was also not especially pleased about the basketball gig. Better than nothing, true. But an excellent example of the American government sucking at seeing the world from any perspective besides our own.

For this school year the volunteer is planning to organize and present a tooth brushing clinic at local schools. She also hopes to arrange a funding for a meeting room to be jointly used by CBT for training its local members and for local health professional meetings/seminars. Its odd to hear, but currently there is no such suitable place in the town.

Off to Naryn

There I am, happy as a clam with some tipsy security folk. The dashing young lass on the left and her family came to the bazaar with me.

I have done a lot of work on the bazaaristan blog, so check that out. Also A LOT of photos on http://wandersponders.blogspot.com/ with captions too.

Things have been great so far and there has been lots to do. I am taking off for the less central areas of the city tomorrow.

Bazaaristan

I set up the research oriented blog: bazaaristan.blogspot.com. For now, I think I am going to put those entrees here as well... Until it gets to be a little more robust I don't think it makes sense to seperate the two.

I met with the director of CBT and will be staying in the Naryn region from Monday the 22nd of September until the 31st of October. I will have a short time back in Bishkek from the 4th until the 6th so that I can vote and meet a volunteer for the Alpine Fund at the Airport. Here is the bazaaristan post. With luck, I'll get a few more up in the next couple days. Pictures too, must have pictures.

There is a meat and cheese bazaar near my residence in Bishkek. It’s tough to know what specialization a bazaar has until I have been informed. Standard stalls which sell everyday foodstuffs, drinks and occasionally cell phone minutes as well as kiosks which sell papers, pens, and other everyday generally disposal items are the irreducible constituents prerequisite for any neighborhood bazaar. Mister Uzgunbek, the patriarch at home and Professor of Environmental Engineering, claims that this will all be gone – overrun by supermarkets. When I ask, why he explains simply, “Because that’s capitalism.”

He has a point. Though the pressure has often come from the state, not from sudden submersion in capitalism. Modern state leaders from Ata-Turk to the late Shah of Iran to contemporaries in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan have viewed bazaars as an anachronism. These “uncivilized, unsanitary” representations of the pre-modernity must be overcome if the nation is to achieve dignity and autonomy on the world stage.

In actuality, one would be hard pressed to find a more robust example of capitalism in action anywhere in the world. Bazaar offer conditions of near perfect competition. Sellers of the same products are situated directly beside one another. The buyer and seller can come to a price which is suitable considering the quantity and regularity of purchase. It is, however, difficult to levy taxes reliably on goods which change in value with each transaction.

Business at the meat and cheese bazaar has apparently slowed over the years. On this Saturday about 2/5 of the stalls stood vacant. Still, every neighborhood hosts a mini-bazaar of some kind in Bishkek. And the overall activity does not seem diminished.

We shopped for a while. It always seems to take longer than necessary. This is due largely to the haggling posture taken up by Mister Ozgonbek’s wife, Anara. The family with whom I live is middle class in a land of rich and poor. They own a car, but it’s a Soviet Lada. They seem to have everything that they need but everything in the house serves a purpose. As I said, the father is a professor; the daughters work in tourism. Service jobs in a material economy.

Anara scrutinizes every stall and each potential purchase with an intense interest muffled with a well rehearsed air of total ambivalence. There is a great deal of looking at each item, picking it up, prodding it and then, scowling delicately while asking questions she already knows the answer to: “Is this any good? Is it fresh? It supposed to have this inconsequential potential defect?” Then she attempts to arrive at a price. Sometimes the posturing goes beyond where I comprehend the search for some leverage over the price. After purchasing a large quantity of bottled water, but before I had carried the bottles away, she noticed some small bubbles in most of the bottles. In a slightly accusatory tone she told the shopkeeper that she wanted NO gas. Surprised by the problem, the shopkeeper assured her with audible exasperation that despite the appearance of bubbles, there was no gas (“Look, when you squeeze it, it’s soft. No gas.”) Anara was unconvinced but was willing to risk it if there could be a slight price reduction. No dice. “Look, they are non-gas, if you don’t want them, leave them here and take you’re money.” So we did.

We bought the same number of bottles at a comparable price not long thereafter. And as we walked back to the car Anara said in order to explain, “We need the ones without gas.” The first batch were clearly gasless in my opinion but the haggling at the bazaar is about more than empty posturing. The only explanation for Anara’s cold feet is that she plays her hand close to her chest. None of the other interactions/transactions at the bazaar carried the odd incredulity of this example. Still, the air of skepticism and disinterest was heavy from the start of each approach.

That seems a long way to go for a seemingly pointless story, but it struck me for some reason that I have not put my finger on. I certainly do not see that kind of practiced posturing in a supermarket. What really grabbed my attention was Anara’s steadfast belief in her position in each case. I believe that if I asked her hours later why she did not just save time and buy the first batch of bottles, she would have replied that, as she already said, it was because the bottles had gas.

This reminds me of observing a politician at work. Each stance and word is calibrated by a keen sense of advantage. The entire argument expounded is too broadly sympathetic, too utilitarian to be honest. But the conviction with which the message is delivered remains remarkable. And, when they do their job well, it seems that they believe their own constructions are inherent and true. They articulate the truth. They would never dare to create it.

This somehow gets at something that draws me to the bazaar. It is laden with a very everyday kind of politics, rich in dynamic social interaction. The supermarket is straightforward transaction. The bazaar is veiled intention. People live and believe in these minute interactions, rather than simply going through the motions.

Arrival and Computer Issues

So I had hoped to post an actual entry today, but instead I'll have to make it quick. My computer is broken and so until I get that figured out I am more likely to have little time for online entries... the small amount of editing I do is not so fun to do at internet cafes. I learned something interesting though from the computer breakdown: HP pavillions are illegal to sell in the post-Soviet sphere, so if there is motherboard damage, I will have the honor of searching for a laptop in Kyrgyzstan.

Second thing, I set up a secon blog for the more bazaar oriented stuff... I am not exactly sure how the division will go, I am going to feel it out but I figure that some professors will have little interest in how I am doing and that certain friends and family may not be especially inquisitive about the formative stages of the research. I will put a link here once I actually make an entry.

I got to go to the mountains yesterday and other than that I've been catching up with friends, visiting folks, making appointments, getting little lost and most of all getting back into the Kyrgyz-Russian jive.

I was a bit anxious about coming back but once I arrived it felt great to be here. I hope that the sensation lasts. I think it will. This adjustment has so far been much easier than the first time I came here. Having a base-line of language skill, people to call friends and a basic knowledge of the city make for a lot less stress and isolation. Hopefully this will endure beyond the honeymoon period. The upcoming trip to the hinterlands where I will be forced to use my Kyrgyz will probably do much to put me back in my place.

Back at it

Minneapolis, MN

This is a post to get myself back in the habit. I finished my first year of graduate studies at the University of Washington in Central Asian International Studies under the aegis of the post-Soviet regional studies school. My area of interest is the bazaar and how that place reflects changes in the political economy an transmits these shifts through cultural icons (like the mosque). 

And this last summer I returned to Widjiwagan to work as the trail building coordinator. It was great to get away from reading, writing and studying language for a taste of gear repair and food prep. 

But now its back to Central Asian studies and with a vengeance. I am taking off for Bishkek on the 10th of September where I will live and study until at least April. I'll be doing interviews and other forms of 'fieldwork ' at the bazaar while studying Kyrgyz language. I will start with a few weeks of rural homestay to get my language geared up again (it really has fallen off a cliff, and I fear onto jagged rocks, over the summer). But after that I will be in Bishkek.

I am not yet sure how I will use this blog - as a personal journal or to percolate the research and such - or both. Anyway, I would love to hear from any and everyone - so comment, email and write.

-Anders

Bad Blogging Good Living

So I have been very truant. Very very truant.

Once I got back, things really started moving on two fronts. First, preparing for the trip to Alaska. Second, making money working construction. Neither seemed to be packed with thought provoking moments worthy of sharing. To sum it up, there are many many little logistical steps that go into arranging a long time far far away from many many little logistical steps. And making money is much more possible in the US than Kyrgyzstan. I made in 4 hours roofing what a doctor would make in a month at the ER, or a teacher in 2 months. I think that keeping that in the back of my mind helps me make sure that I use my power to consume wisely. That is to say, try to do less harm than perhaps average for this part of the world.

Then came camp. What is there to say about that place? It seems to me to be a place where amazing people, who are in many ways different, get together and work energetically and constructively at giving young people an experience to change their lives for the better. What more could I ask for in a job. This summer was blissfully productive on that front. For myself, my group, and camp at large from what I saw. I watched older staff provide great trips and great role modeling for younger staff. And I watched younger staff transform their joy and energy from being a camper (or going camping, if they had not been campers) into real selfless concientiousness of others. Watching peoples' hearts and minds awaken to a a more authentic and fundamental way of living, a parallel and connected but distinct reality, is awesome. As in full of awe. But nothing like awful.

And in the midst of all that was a trip. I needed to be reminded of the power and sublimity of the Arctic. My first time there perhaps I had too few places to compare and contrast it too. Then as I traveled more and more through different comfort zones I thought the Arctic, and the mountaineer experience, was somehow pretty much the same. I even let myself think at times that I was doing it, not because it would be the greatest opportunity for growth for me, but because I could provide the greatest comfort-expanding opportunity for others. Naivity wrapped in ego. The freedom of endless sunlight and the radiant joy of a simple life with young, playful and responsible people is sunshine after a dark winter, ice water on a hot day and rain after a drought.

I think in our own ways, each of us came back saying "oh yeah, that's how great life can be. I have to get me some of that for next year, forever. "

Except of course one does not get such a thing. One lives it every moment of every day with the decisions we make and people we surround ourselves with. And that's why its so great. It comes from inside. That's why it can be so hard to find too, because no one can make that happen for but myself.

Most recently, family was visited in Phoenix. It was great, just like I'd never left... about 4 years ago. except of course that everyone has grown and changed, especially the youngins. But that's why it seems so familiar. because despite all the changes the fundamental dynamic and goodness is the same. It's a good thing to come back to.

Coming back to the USA news cycle and the city has been good. Its a good challenge to have distractions that remind us of the need to get back to what's real... of course all of it is real but somehow it is not complete. It is some sort of unbalanced appendage to a more whole reality.

Seeing talk of politics, I think I will focus on remaining informed but undefined by it. Watching some people try to convince the universe that some particular party's platform embodies Truth and Justice and all things Good.

If only US domestic politics were more like Star Wars.

So now it's finding a place to live in Seattle. Four Widji connected folks will be grooving together out there. It's going to be a blast and a mellow blast at times, I hope.

My councilor had a kid. William Alouiscious Hansen. And time rolls on.