KUMIS [the Kyrgyzs logbook, pt. III]

DAY 10 (12.09.19): Journey to Son Köl

Sleeping in a yurt might sound romantic, but the reality was far from it. After a restless night, I managed to catch an extra hour of sleep in the morning. When I finally got up at 7:30 AM, I found the surroundings completely frozen: proof that my complaints about the cold weren’t exaggerated.

Breakfast was a simple bowl of porridge made from freshly milked milk. The locals who served it seemed grumpy, though maybe it simply meant that they weren’t the best early riders. How can I blame them? Afterward, I mounted Toru for the ride back down the mountain. Any connection I’d built with the horse felt completely lost, but the ache in my ass was there to stay.

In Kochkor, we had lunch at a tacky spot decorated with fake flowers, bejewelled chandeliers and plastic tablecloths: clearly designed for locals, judging by the Cyrillic menu and lack of pictures. A decent espresso at the slightly hipster Cozy Corner followed, before we jumped into a jeep headed for Son Kol with a young Japanese tourist. The drive through the mountains was jaw-dropping, and we stopped several times to capture the breathtaking views.

The moment I stepped out of the jeep at Son Köl, I was smitten. I told my dad it was one of the most enchanting places I’d ever seen, and it still ranks in my top five. I wandered around, at first struggling to take photos, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the place. An endless stretch of dried grass, a glimmering body of water, and towering mountain peaks in the distance. All at an altitude of more than 3000 m above sea level. There was nothing else for miles, just the occasional cow, group of horses, or cluster of yurts. These small details felt almost insignificant against the vastness and grandeur of the landscape.

As I walked along a narrow strip of land, singing aloud, the wind quickly swallowed my voice. Wild horses grazed and galloped freely, adding to the sense of untouched wilderness.

Dinner was early to match the schedule of a large group of English tourists, featuring the same soup we’d had the day before in the other yurt. Afterward, I stepped outside to catch the sunset, which at first seemed unremarkable. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky exploded into vibrant shades of pink and purple.

I spent the rest of the evening warming up with tea in the large communal kitchen tent, before retreating to our yurt to write in my logbook by the fireplace. Everyone else had already fallen asleep, but as the fire died down, the temperature plummeted, leading to yet another near-sleepless night.

DAY 11 (13.09.19) Son Köl to Bishkek

The day began with the Japanese guy waking me up at dawn. I stumbled out of the tent, shivering, only to be greeted by a plump female rabbit: a peculiar omen considering she would later end up on my bed. After snapping a few photos in the sunrise light, I quickly retreated to the heated tent. There, I was joined by Kevin, an American in his late 40s, and we had an unexpectedly deep and spontaneous chat over coffee. My dad eventually appeared for breakfast: more of the usual porridge with jam and bread.

We spent the morning exploring and taking photos in the blindingly bright light. By lunchtime, we felt we’d soaked in enough of Son Köl’s beauty and were ready to head back. While most tourists opt for a horseback tour around the lake, our sore backsides assured us we didn’t need to worry about missing out this time.

The drive back to Kochkor was entertaining, thanks to pop ballads on the radio and traffic jams caused by massive herds of sheep and horses (I still can recall Backstreetboys serenading hundreds of panicky sheep). We had lunch at Retro and said goodbye to the CBT office before catching a shared taxi/marshrutka back to Bishkek. The ride was sweltering, and a flat tire emergency added a bit of excitement, though it seemed to surprise only me and my dad.

Once we reached the capital, we had some trouble finding our Airbnb until a few kind locals pointed us in the right direction. After checking in at the aptly named No Stress Hostel, I finally enjoyed my first well-deserved shower in three days. Dinner was at the delightful Naval, where we indulged in our host’s recommendations: plov (rice in lamb fat), samsy (a meat filled pastry), shorpo (a soup made from fatty meat broth), and boorsok (small fried bread). Meanwhile, my dad was busy frantically updating his Facebook status after days without Wi-Fi. Back at the hostel, we wasted no time falling into a deep sleep.

DAY 12 (14.9.19) Ala Archa National Park

Our day began with a hipster breakfast followed by a leisurely stroll through sunny Bishkek. Things took a more adventurous turn with a packed-to-the-gills marshrutka ride to Ala Archa National Park. We decided to pay a bit extra to be dropped off at the second gate, sparing ourselves a long walk. A German girl with Kazakhstani roots helped us communicate with the driver and ended up spending the whole day with us.

Ala Archa, located about 40 km south of Bishkek, offered a landscape that reminded us of both Alaska and the alpine regions of northern Italy. The park, a popular spot for locals and tourists alike, is known for its stunning mountain views and diverse hiking trails. We chose the four-hour hike to the waterfall, which, although the waterfall itself was underwhelming, offered breathtaking scenery along the way.

We encountered a viper on the path, and I had more than a few slips on the steep track, thanks to my dubious choice of footwear: sneakers instead of proper trekking shoes.

Our hiking party expanded to include a lovely German-English couple, and along the way, we encountered several hungry squirrels, eager to share our snacks.

At the end of the hike, we finally tried kumis, a fermented mare’s milk that’s a national delicacy and undisputed cultural pride of Kyrgyz people. We had been both curious and apprehensive about tasting it. To my dismay, it lived up to my worst expectations: it was thoroughly revolting, and repeated sips did nothing to improve the experience. Somehow, Dad seemed to enjoy it.

After saying goodbye to our hiking companions, we returned to the hostel for a quick rest and took care of our online check-ins for the next day’s flights. In the evening, we had dinner at DUET, a Turkish restaurant, where we met up with Ömer, the friendly guy we’d met on our inbound flight. He kindly answered all the questions that had piled up over the past few days, while ordering an endless stream of delicious dishes. Though undeniably kind and helpful, some of his old-school, machismo-infused views were a bit tough to stomach.

DAY 13 (15.9.19). Outbound flight back to Berlin

The alarm jolted us awake at 5:30 AM after a sleepless night, our bellies still uncomfortably full, with me suffering some gastrointestinal consequences from the “delightful” national drink. A hasty taxi ride to the airport ensued, where I barely made it through security before I had to dash to the nearest bathroom to… well, let’s just say kumis and I had a final, dramatic farewell.

EPILOGUE

Before this trip, Kyrgyzstan was just a vague spot on the map to me: a country I knew almost nothing about. I couldn’t have imagined what it had to offer. I left with a mind full of unforgettable memories and a newfound appreciation for a country that deserves far more attention than it gets. Kyrgyzstan boasts some of the most breathtaking landscapes I’ve ever encountered and its rich cultural heritage is one of a kind.

This journey has reshaped the way I think about travel. I’m now more determined than ever to seek out off-the-beaten-path destinations for my future backpacking trips. There’s something incredibly rewarding about exploring a place that few others have seen. When you visit a country with no preconceived notions or expectations, you’re free to experience it on your own terms, to let the place speak to you in its own way. That sense of discovery, of forming your own impressions without the filter of popular opinion, is a powerful and transformative experience.