Life in Cambodia

Issyk-Kul Lake

Getting out of Jala-bad was a little adventure in itself: dealing with back-alley taxi drivers, hotly discussing in broken Russian (Matt) and wild hand gestures (Maggie), trying to convince them to take us to Kazerman (a no-man's land type place, halfway to Naryn, our intended destination) in their dilapidated looking Ladas and Volgas for a decent price...you can imagine that didn't work out well. So, we ran through a number of other ideas of onward travel after our loss with the Kazerman drivers before settling on striking towards Bishkek; where we presumed to eventually get our Uzbek visa (which is a whole 'nother story!). So we asked around and tracked down a shared taxi headed that way the following day and made preparations for him to pick us up at the hotel. Being two, we made it clear to him that we wanted to pick up two more folks to fill the car and cut our costs. We showed up with an empty car and I was a bit worried he was just going to try and sluff the entire costs on to us. We drove around for a bit before stopping at what turned out to be his buddy's house where we got invited in to eat quite a tasty breakfast and drink tea while everyone in the house practiced their little bit of English on us. I knew it would only be time before they figured out that we didn't have any children, and shortly thereafter, mock us for that. "But you are so old, it is now too late!" and that. Anyway, turns out that we were waiting on the buddy's father and once he arrived, we were off. The driver was like a madman, squealing tires through the mountain passes; overtaking that which could be overtaken, which by and large was anything else on the road. Everyone in the car was quite pleasant, curious to know how much mutton cost in the States and tsk-tsked at the unforgivable expense of apples. The views were nice, but in short, it was a long car ride through the mountains and we were happy to arrive in Bishkek by late afternoon. We were waiting on a letter of invitation (LOI) which is basically just another bureaucratic hoop we have to jump through to get an Uzbek visa (and of course, monetary dispense). We knew it wouldn't be ready yet, so our plan was to fly past Bishkek and head out to Issyk-Kul lake for a few days before returning (when our letter was promised to arrive). As a former Bishkek-ois, I will give my thoughts on the city later in the blog, but for now, you only need to know that we stayed one night and headed out to the lake. After being cheated out of a few more bucks by the taxi driver, we arrived at the lakeside resort town of Cholpon-Ata. During the summer that place is probably rocking, but here in early Fall, it was as good as a ghost town. There are a few hotels in town, but the usual style there is to stay in a house so we just cruised around town, popping our heads in places and enquiring of prices. Some places were dirty and cheap, some were dirty and expensive, but finally we found a nice place that was willing to bargain a bit. Though we weren't right on the beach, it really didn't matter too much since it was way too cold to even think about swimming. The best we got was dipping our toes in the water. It was cool to stand there on the beach, bright blue lake in front with huge mountains towering in the distance and to think just how far away from the ocean we actually were (just about as far as you can possibly get in the world!) That didn't stop a few hardy Russians from attempting a swim; though they didn't look like they were enjoying themselves too much. It was already late afternoon by the time we settled in, so the rest of that day was kinda just checking out the town, playing cards, and basically just lolling about the rest of the day. The next day was a big hike up in the hills outside of town in search of the elusive Cholpon-Ata petroglyphs. Supposedly, the ancients had been living in the area for centuries and left behind a little something for the future tourists to oogle at (or sadly, deface.) We knew the 'glyphs were north of town, but there was a hell of a lot else north of town and its not easy looking for a little goat scratched on a rock; so we wandered about for hours, which was OK because the glyphs were secondary to just getting out and seeing a bit of the area. We knew we were getting close when a few street kids came up and offered to guide us the rest of the way (for the right price, of course). The problem was that it quickly became obvious they really didn't know where the glyphs were either; one pointing this way, one pointing that way, which degraded into a heated discussion of where exactly we were heading. After we made it quite clear we weren't paying for the service, one kid agreed to lead us part of the way and off we went into the hills. Eventually, we stumbled upon a few little petroglyps (as seen in the photos) We found about 10 little animals, and happy with that headed back down to the beach, swung through an empty resort, through the forests and back to our little home for a quick rest.

The following day, for a change of scenery, we hopped over a few towns to the village of Tamchy. If Cholpon-Ata is considered "bustling," Tamchy is rightly described as "dead," and that is just what we were looking for. Since it is only 30km away from Cholpon-Ata we arrived by mid-morning and got put up in a home stay known as the "museum." We dropped our bags, grabbed some sausage and cheese, and headed out into the town for a long hike. As soon as we stepped out, we were intercepted by a little dog short on love who would follow us around for the next five hours, almost like we were renting it for the day. We hiked through fields, apple orchards and along the water, stopped for lunch and fed our little friend. After about 3 hours we headed back and found a German guy and a French couple also staying with our sweet old lady in her 'museum-like' house. The French, Brice & Elise had been cycling for two years, covering most everything in between France & China, over 25,000km! Needless to say, we were inspired. We all had a nice (cold) night out drinking cheap beer and eating good food. Winter is definitely coming in Kyrgyzstan and we all froze our pattooties off that night but enjoyed whiling away the evening with good food, fresh bread and lots of local beer.

We all split up the next day, Brice and Elise biking to their next stop, Marco staying put and us, on the road to find a bus back to Bishkek to check on that blasted LOI for Uzbekistan. Oh, and the 'inspired' part is that Brice and Elise really have convinced us traveling by bike is the answer (they also started off as cycling novices, so we know it can be done!) and gave us all sorts of tips and info...so, get ready for Maggie and Matt by bike... our next adventure maybe in 2011 or 2012!

posted by Life in Cambodia @ 4:18 PM 0 comments

Over the Irkeshtam and into Kyrgyzstan

Heading out of Kashgar and fending off a cheating taxi driver, we found ourself at the China/Kyrgyzstan border crossing of the Irkestam Pass. The terrain between the two places was quite bleak and desert-esque; not the place you would want to call home. The border crossing formalities, though uneventful, took far longer than we had expected. The distance between the Chinese customs post and the Kyrgyz customs post was unwalkable and there is no real transport that runs back and forth since most of the traffic are buses and trucks. Luckily, the Chinese official was extremely nice and tracked down a ride for us. That, however, only got us to another Chinese checkpoint within the "no-man's land." As if we sneaked in without first stopping at the custom's post. From there, it was a 15 min walk across the border to a tiny Kyrgyz checkpoint. Here, my 10 words of Russian came in handy with the border guard as we became buddy-buddy. As he took our passports into his office, he turned around like he had forgotten something and yelled, "Welcome to Kyrgyzstan!" to us before stepping inside. We officially felt welcomed. Afterwards, he, in turn, found us a ride to the final, offical Kyrgyz border check point, where we hoped to find transport onto Osh. Here, we got lucky. We got on a little mini-bus that was just disgorging a flock of French tourists going into China. Their Kyrgyz guide, who was returning into Kyrgyzstan was also continuning onward to Osh and asked if we wanted to ride in the mini-bus with him. Opting for the ride in hand instead of two in the bush, we agreed. Turns out that this guide, Kanat, is not only a professor of French in Osh and spoke it quite fluently, he also knew his way around English, Uzbek, Kyrgyz and of course, Russian. Following the border/passport check and a quick bite to eat (minced lamb and onions wrapped in a thin dumpling cover (called 'Mante', yum) we were off. We had heard the road was bad and that it took a long time to get between the border and Osh (despite a relatively small distance) but we were unprepared for what we would come up against. As soon as we got out of town, the road literally disappeared and became nothing more than a dirt track into the mountains beyond. And this is one of the major transport corridors for goods between China and Kyrgyzstan. To make a horribley bumpy road worse was the tons of fine dust that filled the air, coating everything in and outside the mini-bus. Needless to say, it was an unpleasant ride. Luckily, there were only four of us in the mini-bus so I had space to lay out across the seats. By the end, everything we owned would be coated in dust and grime. During the ride, Kanat also asked us if we wanted to stay with his family; we had previously planned on a hotel in Osh. We agreed, and I think Maggie will agree that it was a wonderful decision, but more on that later. Somewhere about the 534th choking cough, we stopped for a sip of kymys, a national drink of fermented horse milk. I was unable to rouse myself from my little seat, but Maggie went out for a taste and came back a kymys convert (as everyone does!...ahem, not quite, Maggie says) . Forget the eggnog this Christmas! Since Kanat doesn't have shower/bathing facilities at his house, he reccomended that we stop at a Banya (Bath house) in the forest a few hours before Osh. Afterward, he said, the road to Osh is good so we won't have to worry about getting dirty again. Kanat must be a practiced liar, but that road was just as bad, if not worse and we were soon dirty again. The bath, however, felt nice as it was from a natural hot springs and included pool, sauna, and shower. I opted only for the shower, which was plenty nice for me, but Maggie took advantage of the sauna as well. We also had a little bite to eat at the bath house as well with an entourage of folks that the other van in the group had been picking up along the way: 2 truck drivers caught without proper paperwork, random teenagers making their way to the big city etc. All wanting to know about how much bread costs in the US, what the monthly salary is, all the important questions...we finished our meal and trudged the final few hours to Osh.

Kanat's house was quite nice, though we didn't really get much of a tour as all of us were ready to just fall into bed, as the entire trip from Kashgar to Osh was probably a 16 hour nightmare (and that is considered a quick journey; many people do not make it in one day!) . A quick hello to his wife and mother and we called it a night around 1am. We couldn't get out of bed until someting like 9am, and even then we were dragging butts. During our stay at Kanat's, we would also be getting breakfast and dinner. How nice that first breakfast was of warm bread, sweet pomegranate jam and all the coffee you could handle. We finally rolled into town with the goals of checking out the bazaar, finding some internet, and climbing Soloman's Thone, a large hill smack in the middle of town. Well, two out of three ain't bad. We cruised around the bazaar for a little bit, oohing and ahhing at the sausage, cheese, and other goodies that are uniformly unavailable in China. After a snack of dried apricots and walk through the park, we found ourselves an internet cafe whose seats would have molded to our butts had we stayed a bit longer. "We'll do Soloman's Throne tomorrow," we said. Yeah right. That night at the house, I got drummed by Kanat's father in chess. Without going into details, it was embarrasing. I was on the defense from the beginning and his father had everything planned out; he knew my moves before I did. The next night I would redeem myself with a faux victory, though (and I am hesitant to admit this) he removed his queen and one rook from the board before we even began playing. Even then, I think he just wanted to humor me. Dinner at Kanat's was fit for kings and kings we were. Plov (Kyrgyz rice pilaf with lamb), mante, breads...if you can cook it, we probably ate it. All the time, Kanat's mother, "Eat! Eat!" How could we say no? Maggie asked about vodka, and vodka appeared. No one in the family, save for Kanat's mother drank and drink she did. Luckily, vodka only appeared at dinner time. Once, when I was first in Kyrgyzstan, I had to weather two shots of vodka before breakfast before having to wave a third one off. The next day was day off for Kanat so Maggie and I accompanied him to the "Car Bazaar" where is father was trying to sell their Audi. It was a strange place, just a huge area filled with cars. From cheapy little Russian Ladas that probably cost $100 to legitamite BMWs and Mercedes Benz costing god only knows what. After hanging out there a bit we made our way back to the regular bazaar for a little gift buying; a quick stop at the bank; a Soloman's Throne pointing and eventual dismissal of a hike and we were back at the house for tea. After another wonderful dinner, we all loaded up in the yet unsold Audi and tackled Soloman's Thone the way it is meant to be done, by automobile. The hill afforded a wonderful view of nighttime Osh.

The following day, we set off towards the town of Arslanbob, in the mountains a few hours north of the city. Luckily, Kanat's father did a portion of this run in his Audi and took us a bit of the way and helped us locate transport for the next leg. A few taxi hops and we quickly found ourselves in the town of Arslanbob. I visited here in 2004 and as expected, things hadn't changed much. Arslanbob is a little, mainly Uzbek, town of dirt paths and old, mud brick homes. It is home to a Community Based Tourism (CBT) office. The CBT, as you might have figured out is an organization that specializes in local homestays and tourism events that supports individual, local families. Upon arrival, you select a homestay and are taken there to live with the family during your stay in Arslanbob. We stayed at the same place where I stayed in 2004; its a nice place, friendly and warm. From the town center, its only a little jump into the walnut forests that surround the town. Our first day there we cruised around the forest and watched people getting ready for the walnut harvest. Looks like family members move out into the forests for days at a time and collect walnuts until, well, there just aren't anymore to collect. Arslanbob is a wonderfully quiet place; in stark contrast to China, where a similar town would have tour groups with megaphones, people dressing up in "traditional" Uzbek garb, and basically a Disney atmosphere to the whole place. It was nice to just walk into the forests and find a nice rock to sit on for a while. The next day, we opted for a bit more: horseback riding! The horses here were a bit larger than the ones we rode in China and our butts seemed to fit nicely on their backs. It was a pretty long day of riding/walking, though it was broken up with a nice picnic lunch in the mountains. Our first stop was the "small waterfall," which is actually a single river that gets split into two waterfalls right at its top. Via a panaromic view of the valley and some shortcuts through town, we dismounted in a shaded grove surrounded by mountain streams near the base of the "big waterfall." Here we met up with the cook, who had been preparing a meal of breads, teas, & kebabs. We would need to get a bit of rest because the hike up to Big Waterfall is short, but grueling. Anyway, we slept a little bit, ate our fill of kebabs, and slept a bit before making for the waterfall, 30 mins uphill. About halfway up; whezzing and coughing, we came across a group of little old ladies who had made the climb, thus shaming us into a quick ascent to the top. The Big Waterfall is (I think) considered holy and the old fence is covered with prayer cloths and whatnot. Its big (hence its name) and luckily had a nice place to rest at the top where we could catch our breaths. At the top, we met an American family which included a former Kyrgyzstan Peace Corps volunteer who we shook down for some extra traveling info. After the descent from the falls and a hour ride back into town, we finally left the horses behind and walked around like old Russian babushkas for a bit before getting our land legs back and cruising through "downtown" for some juice. That night, we had some tasty treats for dinner called galupsi, basically a large red pepper stuffed with mutton, rice, and onions. We'll see if we can't search some more of those out in the coming weeks! The next day, sans horses, we took to the town ourselves, retracing partial routes from the day before, but also getting lost in the hills beyond town. We picked our way through an old Soviet turbanza, basically a Soviet fun park that now has the run down, sad feel of an abandoned amusement park. We packed our own little picnic of dried fruit and sausage and found a nice tree by the river to sit under for a while. That night, with a few more galuspis under our belts we packed for our immenient departure from Arslanbob; and now, on this fine cool evening find ourselves back in Jala-bad and awaiting transport to places north.

posted by Life in Cambodia @ 12:33 PM 1 comments

On the edge of the Middle Kingdom

From Urumqi we hopped a nice train to Kashgar, the farthest city west you can get and still be in China proper. It was our last train ride in China (woo-hoo!) and it was a nice double decker train with only 4 bunks per room instead of the usual 6! Even better, we lucked out with some decently cool locals who never drank, smoked, played cards, or hooted and hollered all night. Its the little things that make the rides go smoothly. We had assumed the terrain outside would be forbidding and arid because we were skirting the Taklamakan Desert, but it was actually beautiful countryside full of valleys and mountain streams. Kashgar is an ancient staging point on the Silk Road and despite the influx of Chinese, has managed to keep a bit of the town locked in the past. Much of the town is newish and of little interest, but right in the middle of the city is the Old City, anchored by the Id Khah Mosque, which has been calling the faithful since the 1400s. The old town is bustling, not unlike other Chinese cities, but decidedly not Chinese. It felt as if we were in central Asia or the middle east already: bread bakers at every turn, mosques, long bearded men, women covered from head to toe and nary a sight of typical Chinese food or the sound of Chinese being spoken. It was a strange combination of cultures I had not expected but also loved that we still had access to both. Rugs for sale, scarves, skull caps, Kyrgyz kolpaks (traditional Kyrgyz hats), Kazakh and Tajik traditional head-wear and knives...yes, knives, everywhere. Knives are a staple of Uygher life--practically every man we saw in the old town had one strapped to his belt. Never being one for weapons of any kind (yes, this has been Maggie writing), I thought to accompany our friend Ben to the market for his knife search on our last day in town. My goal was to search for last minute trinkets and souvenirs...but during that 3 hours I became somehow transformed, ahem, a little obsessed with finding a knife...there were so many to choose from and with such alarmingly beautiful carved handles, engraved with traditional designs and the maker's name written in Arabic script--the handles and blades are expertly crafted and come in a variety of curved shapes: extremely small, small, medium, large and yes, extra large...it was a bit infectious. I bought one, a small to medium sized with a black goat horn carved handle, with small blue and red stone dots inlaid at the base of the blade. Sharp. Very sharp, but small, with a slight upturn at the end of blade that makes it look a little more ornate. I have no idea what I'm going to do with this knife, but it was something I had to have. At least I snapped out of my momentary obsession, whereas Ben couldn't seem to stop: he purchased 5 all together and returned later thinking he might use 4 of the 5 as steak knives. Maybe you'll see ours as a nice (super sharp) cheese knife...



Kashgar is also famous for its Sunday Market, one of the biggest and liveliest in Central Asia, so we just had to check that out. The market again, was a mix of old and new and East and West; everybody and their brother, and sister, and mom and dad were out for the big day and we also made it out. Matt and I arrived from the Animal Market with our Canadian friend Thang (the one we met in Beijing--we found each other again in Kashgar) and a French cyclist, Sebastian. I quickly stated that there was no way I was going to do the market with 3 guys in tow, so we made a plan to split up and meet back at the hotel. That was a good idea since the best part of the market was just wandering the aisles people watching and sort of "window shopping". I did however buy several scarves, which just couldn't be helped because well, if you know me, it just couldn't be helped...especially because they were so darn cheap! Anyway, I found myself wandering behind the market, laughing and bargaining for a new ski hat with an old woman who knitted it herself. The old clothes market was fun and if we were headed home anytime early than 3 months from now, I would have stocked up on a number of things...but alas, it was good to know that I had to carry all of my crap, thus I refrained from going crazy on the silk road. After street snacks and a trip back through the old market, I headed back with my scarves and our group met up to share stories of the day.



One of the other highlights of Kashgar though is the oft-overlooked Animal Market also held on Sunday outside of town. We woke up early to head out there and arrived just as things were getting started. We knew we were going to see some good stuff before we even arrived. The road leading up to the market was filled with donkey carts carrying goats and huge trucks overflowing with sheep, donkeys, and cows. The market was actually just a huge empty field filled with thousands of animals and ringed with food stalls and locals selling anything from lengths of rope to traditional Uygher knives. We then ran into some of our friends we had been hanging out with from our trip to Tian Chi--James and Graihagh, an English couple traveling around China who had been living in Thailand, had a plan; James really wanted to buy and sell a sheep during the market, to, you know, get the feel for the age-old, silk road reality in Kashgar. We met up with them just after James had successfully sold his sheep, a cute little bushy brown one that sadly, was sold to the butcher of a food stall...although he sold the sheep for a loss, he gained a nice new title on his CV: 'Sheep Trader' which to him was definitely worth it...pictures to come.

That weekend, a group of us wanted to head out of town. This group included Ben, an American, and Graihagh & James. It worked out that all of us were interested in a side trip down to Karakul Lake on the Karakorum Highway towards the Pakistan border. As we planned our trip, we also picked up Thang and Dee, a Dutch woman. Together with David, the Brit traveling with us (and a few other folks) we rented a mini-van, which we christened "The Fun Bus" and took off for Tashkorgan, the farthest we could get down the Karakorum Highway without having an onward visa. The Karakorum, which winds its way through soaring mountain passes (bringing with it the danger of altitude sickness, since we reached over 4,000meters), is famous for its scenery; it did not disappoint. Soon after we left Kashgar behind, we quickly dipped into the passes, stopping only at Upal to eat the fattiest samsa we've ever had. The mutton fat congealed on the roofs of our mouths and left a thin film that would accompany us for some time on our tongues. Since the scenery (snow capped mountains and streams) was new for us, we stopped every 30 minutes to get out and snap some photos (as seen on Flickr). By the time we got to Tashkorgan, we were driving past snow caps without even batting an eye and barely a yawn. I, personally, had expected a bit more out of Tashkorgan, though admittedly I should have known better (it was just a regular little city.) After an absurdly large meal and a quick tour (and dropping Rishi, an Irish guy biking down into Pakistan), we retraced our steps back to Karakul Lake, which we had passed along the way to Tashkorgan. We arrived as the sun was setting, and with it, any sense of heat or warmth. Luckily, we had been warned by an Australian guy that things got a bit nippy out there on the lake, so were remotely prepared. After a bit of accommodation price gouging and haggling, we secured ourselves a nice warm yurt to call home. We all piled in the yurt with the firing heating the place up, got settled and started talking and laughing until we all slid into sleep. The morning brought some altitude sickness for me (Maggie) but with movement, some breakfast, lots more water and a hike through the mountainous area near the lake, I felt better. Thang, Matt and I hiked around near a stream and up around some lower mountain bases while the others tried to hike toward the snow line opposite Muztagh Ata (one of the highest mountains on the highway). We got stuck around a little stream though and had to de-sock to wade our way through the extremely cold and ice-like water. We all met back at the road where the driver got us safely back to Kashgar, tired, but ready for more types of trips. We all met that night to wish Ben a happy (early) birthday and to tell tales of our plans for the next part of our trips. It was a fantastic group to travel with and sad to part ways, but such is the way of the traveler; Ben and David were off to Shanghai with separate plans, James and Graihagh were off to Tibet with a new car load of folks, Thang to Kyrgyzstan a day earlier than us and Dee back to Xi'an to get into Mongolia and onto the trans-Siberian railway. Lots of beers and well wishes were said (including an insanely huge meal at a local shmansy Uygher restaurant, replete with singers and musicians) and we all headed on our way, safe travels for all! Reunion Kashgar 2010!

posted by Life in Cambodia @ 11:11 AM 0 comments

Urumqi, Tian Chi-Yurt Living and Lovely Raisins in the farthest spot from the Ocean (Xinjiang Province)

posted by Life in Cambodia @ 4:19 PM 0 comments

Xi'an & the Terracotta Warriors

posted by Life in Cambodia @ 3:04 PM 2 comments