KUMIS [the Kyrgyzstan logbook, pt. I]

INTRO

These pictures and stories are five years old, and I still can’t believe I never got around to writing about this incredible experience. Kyrgyzstan is a country that few people know about—including me before my visit—but it has an extraordinary personality, a rich cultural heritage, and some of the most breathtaking landscapes I’ve ever seen. So, brace yourself!

Back in September 2019, I found myself with a couple of weeks to spare between jobs. I had long wanted to go on a trip with my dad, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. But why Kyrgyzstan? At the time, I thought it would be fascinating to pick a place I knew absolutely nothing about—no knowledge of its traditions, landscapes, ethnicities, history, or food culture. A quick Google search revealed that over 90% of Kyrgyzstan is covered by mountains, including the stunning Tien Shan, Pamir, and Alai ranges. These towering peaks offer breathtaking views and ample opportunities for trekking, mountaineering, and skiing.I did some research, screenshotted a few highlights, and sent them to my dad with the message, “Are you down for this?” He replied with an enthusiastic YES. I knew I could count on him for such an adventure because of his passion for mountain hikes, his tolerance for non-luxurious travel conditions, his openness to unpredictable turns, and his easy-going nature.

Choosing off-the-beaten-track locations is my favorite way to travel. Unfortunately, in recent years, the pandemic has made such trips less affordable, with flight costs doubling. But the memories of Kyrgyzstan remain a testament to the joys of exploring the unknown.

Kumis is an alcoholic beverage made from fermented mare’s milk. This drink remains important to the peoples of the Central Asian steppes.

DAY 1 (3.9.2019): Journey to Bishkek

Our adventure began with a flight from Berlin to Istanbul, which included a three-hour layover filled with döner fast food, pricey beer, and some top-notch people-watching. The five-hour flight from Istanbul to Bishkek felt like a ride on a Ryanair-like plane, but we met Omer, who helped us navigate taxis and SIM cards. The night ride to the city was a surreal experience, featuring a wild taxi driver blasting ’80s synth-pop hits. We finally checked in at the charming Southside B&B with Ryan at 5:30 AM and set our alarms for 7:30 AM.

DAY 2 (4.9.19): Exploring Bishkek

Predictably, we snoozed the alarm for a whole hour. Breakfast at the B&B was a delightful spread of homemade dried apricots, strawberry jam, traditional bread, yogurt, and mushroom and cheese omelets. We bombarded Beth, the host, with a thousand questions about Kyrgyzstan and received a thousand more answers.

We took a taxi to the city center for a mere €1.50.

Bishkek, formerly Pishpek and Frunze, is the capital and largest city of Kyrgyzstan.

The highlights of Bishkek included exploring its major tourist attractions, which are largely composed of Soviet-style buildings and monuments. We started at Ala Too Square, where we admired the Mighty Manas statue (a hero from an epic poem, symbol of Kyrgyz culture and identity) and watched the changing of the guards. We then visited the Lenin, Marx and Engels statues, and took a stroll through Dubovy/Oak Park, which featured a gallery of garish paintings depicting horses, tigers, and political personalities.

Our walk continued through the ginormous Liberty Square and the Circus before we made our way down Chüy Prospekti, passing through a gaudy gold district and meticulously maintained parks with brutalist architecture, until we reached the vast Osh Bazaar. There, we explored the massive maze of stands selling everything from dried fruit and spices to salty cheese balls, biscuits, and candies.

By the time we reached PurPur, a Georgian restaurant, we were exhausted from walking 14 km. There we indulged in €1 beers, massive khinkali, and hyper buttery khachapuri. Later on, with full tummies and a garlicky breath, we visited Zhirgal Banya, a Russian-style sauna that was quite an eye-opener with its unique, traditional vibe. Despite being the only non-locals, we received friendly welcomes. It was my first time stripping down naked in front of my dad—commonplace in Berlin but not in prude Catholic Italy. The saunas reached up to 140°C, and plunging into an ice-cold pool after each session felt heavenly.

Feeling completely rejuvenated, we walked to Save the Ales, a hipster garden pub frequented by expats. We enjoyed wheat beer and stout but soon tiredness hit. A taxi ride back to the B&B followed, and, after struggling to keep my head up whilst in the cab, I fell asleep as soon as I laid down in bed.

My first impressions? English was definitely not widely spoken. The locals have striking features with awesome cheekbones, almond eyes (very often of a jade green colour), and petite noses. The city has a strong USSR feel, and I can’t imagine Russia being much different. There were no significant signs of poverty (how arrogantly European of me to even think there should have been), and everything was extremely clean.

DAY 3 (5.9.19): Journey to Issyk Kul

After breakfast at the guesthouse, we grabbed a taxi to the western bus station and hopped on a marshrutka—a local van-sized taxi—for a four-hour adventure. Our driver displayed some impressive (read: terrifying) driving skills as we zipped from suburbs to dry countryside, dramatic red mountains, and finally, the lush lakeside dotted with quaint villages

Issyk Kul, the “warm lake,” is a marvel. It’s the seventh-deepest and third-largest saline lake in the world, rarely freezing due to its high salinity despite frigid winters.

We reached Bokonbaevo, a charming village on the south shore of the lake, visited the CBT(Community Based Tourism, aimed at supporting local families and business) office, and took a taxi to the Bel-Tam yurt camp. As we checked in, a summer storm hit, bringing with it a breathtaking rainbow and golden light show. We spent a couple of hours exploring the eerie lakeshore, discovering a creepy complex of abandoned buildings and scattered animal bones. Nothing like a bit of post-apocalyptic sightseeing to work up an appetite! We then enjoyed beers and cheese balls while planning our next move to Karakol. Dinner was served in a big yurt filled with other Westerners. The food was meh, but the company was fantastic, especially after a few shots of vodka and surprise Russian candies. The day ended with a hot shower in the dark and a candlelit night in the yurt, bundled up in blankets that smelled like wet dog, which made me wonder if they had ever been washed.

DAY 4 (6.9.19): Skazka Valley to Karakol

We started with a disappointing breakfast at 7:30 AM, followed by a 40-minute, €12 taxi ride to Skazka (Fairy Tale) Canyon. Known for its bizarre rock formations resembling everything from the Great Wall of China to penguins, we arrived early after passing numerous abandoned hotels and resorts on the lakeshore. Exploring the canyon was fun, though we had to dodge some obnoxious photographers.

A budget-friendly taxi ride led to a hitchhiking adventure to Karakol for just €3. My dad took it all in stride, even when we had to sit on table chairs instead of proper seats.

Karakol, the gateway to the Tian Shan mountains and Lake Issyk-Kul, greeted us with a dusty, village-like charm

A quick stop at the CBT for tips, and then another €1 taxi ride to the Snow Leopard guesthouse, which we couldn’t find. So, we settled for Lonely Planet’s starred Teskej B&B. The host was friendly but oddly creepy, and the place was sterile yet affordable at €10 per person a night.

As the weather turned windy and cold, we explored Karakol’s food scene. The food market served up ashlan fu (spicy cold noodle soup) and piroshki (meat pies) for under €1.20. Then we hit Zarina, a local insitution, for kurdak (stewed meat) and manti (dumplings) with honey-flavored Arpa beer. It was a cozy spot to escape the bad weather and do some people-watching.

When the rain stopped, we wandered through the city’s bazaars and visited the wooden Orthodox Church before heading back to the guesthouse, thoroughly frozen.

To warm up, I visited a small sauna, and witnessed the local men obsessive scrubbing and washing routine. I left feeling a bit stranded under an asphalt grey sky in a deserted neighbourhood that made me think: “how on Earth must it be like to grow up here?”

Back at the guesthouse, Dad and I decided to challenge the rain for a drink at the Fat Cat Café. Irish coffee and chocolate cheesecake, served by a chatty waitress, wrapped up our day perfectly. We finally called it a night at 11 PM.

DAY 5 (7.9.19): Karakol to Jeti Ögüz

The day began with me washing some dirty laundry in the garden and enduring another disappointing breakfast, this time with a French couple. By 8:30 AM, a taxi whisked us away to Jeti Ögüz, a valley known for its striking red earth cliffs in the foothills of the Terskey Ala-Too Mountains.

The weather started off wonderfully but turned cloudy as we reached the iconic “Seven Bulls” (seven bull shaped rock formations). We explored the red canyon, hunting for the perfect photo. A two-hour hike up a car road followed, leading to the pastures. Given our Alpine roots, the hike felt quite underwhelming. We kicked ourselves for not having the taxi drop us directly at the pastures, which would have allowed for a more impressive trek.

Despite this, the pastures offered our first taste of a traditional Kyrgyz yurt camp (jailoos), complete with hundreds of horses and cows against a stunning mountain backdrop. As I was busy chasing foals and calves for a cute closeup, Dad got scammed by some cowboys into climbing a horse—one moment he was on the ground, and the next, he was on horseback. We had a lovely chat with Bural, a lady living in the jailoo, who invited us to lunch. Sadly we had to decline and head back just as the sun decided to shine again.

We returned to town by 3:30 PM, having witnessed rural life, including carefully wading through a sea of sheep. Annoyingly, the weather was now sunny, and we wished we could have spent more time in Jeti Ögüz.

Lunch was at the slightly pretentious Destorkon, where we enjoyed the most delicious lamb steak, albeit at €11 each, our priciest meal so far. A quick visit to Destination Karakol provided tips on what to do in bad weather, followed by an espresso at Fat Cat Café, where we met a fellow backpacker who had a traumatic hospital experience after falling off her bunk bed.

The evening brought a memorable “Dungan Family Dinner” experience. Driven to Yrdyk, a Dungan village (Dungan are a Chinese Muslim minority making up about 10% of Kyrgyzstan’s population), we met the eccentric Luke Lee. We participated in a proper feast, eating cross-legged on the floor and trying at least ten different Dungan dishes, including making noodles from a massive starch pudding for our ashlan fu. Dinner conversations ranged from political issues and tourism evolution to education and community efforts to clean up cities.

Returning to Teskey, the temperature had dropped significantly and Dad and his snoring made sure I could be awake for longer I had hoped for.