In the Heart of Naryn

Salut,

I finally was able to come back to my site after being locked in Bishkek for days because of medical leave. My health was perfectly fine; it was mostly logistical. Because of dirt roads and possible mudslides, our safety security manager said I could only return to site via plane, which was scarce the first week of July for some reason. As such, I wouldn’t use the word “withering”, but yes I was withering away in a hotel room for the first week of July. I made the irresponsible decision to eat Indian food and Mexican food while on tons of new medication, meaning I became incredibly exhausted and threw up the food. The act of eating it was worth it! I have a tendency to make less than practical decisions, but it always leads to interesting stories. Another PCV, Michaela, said during training that her mentality was just to embrace the fact that even if things go sideways, it will always result in a fun or interesting story. Buckle up, because I have plenty of those this time around!

While stuck in Bishkek and before I got somewhat ill, I visited Baktygul at the American University of Central Asia (AUCA), where she studies. It’s distant, very far south of the city, but it is a gorgeous campus. I’m used to UT Austin, which was basically a campus embedded in a city, so seeing only two buildings being the entire campus is always wild to me. Her son was there too, as the university provided small English classes for young kids, taught by a Russian-speaking teacher. Baktygul has had intensive English lessons running from like 9-3 or 4 pm daily, entirely taught in English. This kind of specialized teaching in English I’ve found often means that some English teachers have a specialized vocabulary, utilizing words like “methodologies” and “critical pedagogy” in their everyday speech, yet the lack of emphasis on speaking or listening means having a regular conversation with them is more difficult. AUCA also had plenty of exchange and foreign (and American) students, evidenced by a diverse number of young 20-year-olds walking around the halls, speaking in native English or with distinct European accents. 

I came back to my site on July 7, only to leave about a week later. I ended up stuck in Bishkek on the 4th of July, and Vanessa (the volunteer nearest to me) got stuck too, her flight back to our sites was canceled. That day we decided to eat Indian food for dinner, which resulted in the aforementioned health problem. Moving on, I went to Bishkek and stayed the night before going to Naryn. So, because of underdeveloped transportation infrastructure and generally long drives, to go from the south of Kyrgyzstan to Issyk Kul and Naryn, you have to pass through Bishkek. If you look at a map, you will see two main roads that run from the north to the south, but they don’t intersect, Jalal-Abad and Osh are on the first road, and Naryn is on the second. There is allegedly a road that exists that passes through Kazarman and along the Naryn River that intersects these two N-S roads, connecting the two. However, allegedly it has been under construction? Or maybe it’s open but no taxis or buses/marshrutkas go along the route (ie a private car). I have no idea, it’s all just rumors and gossip. All this is to say that to get to Naryn or Issyk Kul for a volunteer from the south, you have to go to Bishkek (via plane or taxi/marshrutka), probably spend the night, and then keep going on your way. All these logistical hurdles and time spent on a state the size of South Dakota. 

Anyway, my go-to place in Bishkek has always been Apple Hostel. Some other volunteers recommended it to me, but I usually like to switch it up in Bishkek and try out different places, but the main appeal for this one is that it is right next to the Western Bus Station, the main station to catch a Marshtuka/taxi to go anywhere. It’s also home to lots of tourists. This time around, I met lots of tourists who have been passing through Central Asia for a long time (some spending 4-6 weeks in Bishkek). I met this one guy from Texas who worked in a lab on anti-aging research for a small but family-owned company located in the desert, who are also doomsday preppers, founded by a tech billionaire who got wealthy off cryptocurrency. To quote a British tourist who was with us, “I think a self-sufficient, off-the-grid, doomsday prepper cult on private land run by a nepotistic family in Texas run by a crypto billionaire is the most American thing I’ve ever heard.” But he was making himself good money, had good leave, and whatnot. The other person I was meeting was someone I met in June after parting ways with Bhaavya. He is an American English teacher working in Kazakhstan, doing monthly visa runs to Kyrgyzstan. According to him, after being disillusioned by the US, he has decided to go to the Russian/Kazakh border and attempt to enter, possibly renounce his US citizenship and work for the Russian Foreign Ministry (he’s half or a quarter ethnic Russian but not a citizen). The British dude was a man on a mission to go from somewhere in Southeast Asia (I think he said he started in Singapore or Indonesia) back to England on motorcycle/cycling tours. Hence, he was super interested in the Kazarman pass I mentioned, hoping to pass through it on a motorcycle. The three of them all decided to go to Song Kol the day after I saw them, but they showed me a chill table tennis hangout place behind a popular bar, full of even more tourists. The tourist landscape is crazy here in Kyrgyzstan and it feels almost seasonal too. Before, I saw lots of Indian and Pakistani tourists, in addition to Russians, but now I’m only seeing West Europeans (mostly Brits, Dutch, Germans, Belgians, and Italians). I met a LOT of tourists on this trip, and you’ll get to hear about all of them. Tourists in Kyrgyzstan are always interesting. 

I went to Kochkor to visit Valerie, another Peace Corps volunteer in my cohort, who lives in a village outside Kochkor. Kochkor is a very popular tourist destination as a gateway to Song-Kol and other sorts of treks/hikes. I took a marshrutka with her boyfriend, Artem, who I’ve met and seen several times. He’s Russian, left after the war, and works right now in Bishkek. His English is excellent, despite how much he doesn’t think so. He and I went to Kochkor, where the two of them were intent on buying a bike for her, despite her having very little experience with one. She showed us the city (though the city is a very loose word, it’s a town, and it has a population of like 20,000 people). It is worth mentioning that Naryn oblast is very small, population-wise, and more spread out (and maybe more rural too). I noticed Naryn is also a little bit more expensive in terms of transportation. Fewer people mean a less developed transportation system compared to Jalal-Abad and Osh from what I’ve seen, which also means less work which means more money per trip. Not wildly more expensive but enough to notice, in my opinion. Her village was a breath of fresh air, several degrees colder than mine (as Naryn is also the coldest oblast). 

Artem was very comfortable with her host family, doing most of the talking while Valerie and I ate besh barmak and fruit, him endlessly chatting in Russian with them (basically all people in Kyrgyzstan speak and understand Russian fluently as a second language). Of course, with his presence, her host family kept asking me if I was going to get married. My own host father does the same, now that I talk more to my family and tell them details about my older sister’s upcoming nuptials, they are more and more convinced I need to be next. Anyway, it was her host father’s birthday, but there wasn’t a lot of fanfare as he was working. They took us to jailoo, which is mountain pastures and fields where sheep, horses, goats, and cows are shepherded to in the summer for grazing. I got to climb some very rocky mountains and fear for my life running downhill. The local boys wore flip-flops, found Kumuz hidden behind trees, and ran fearlessly up and down the mountains. They’re just built differently here, I’ve heard of even the oldest ejes and baikes scaling mountains with ease. 

Valerie and I met with two of her Olympiad students, a 10th and one 11th grader who have excellent English. We played Bananagrams, quickly becoming one of my favorites, and I taught them to play Slimehead (Shithead, or ERF to my college friends back home!). After lunch, we had made plans to go Salt Mine hunting! Near Kochkor, there is a large salt mine some other volunteers had visited. We met Rich Rakhat, Valerie’s Kyrgyz teacher (she has never been my teacher, but I love her the same) and one of our LCFs. 

We got dropped off near the village’s school, and we asked the store owner right next to it where we could find Rich Rakhat’s house, and he was energetic and happy to answer us. “We’re hosting a volunteer!” The host father said, "Both of your Kyrgyz are very good. The new volunteers don’t know or speak any Kyrgyz.” I mentioned before, but this year, training for new volunteers is happening near Kochkor, not like it was in Bishkek last year. So they don’t have the weekend trips to Bishkek we got last year. On the other hand, the weather is much much better, I was totally dying of heat last year (Jacob did actually get heatstroke) in our village, which is why they decided to move it. But the setup is the same; the new trainees meet in Kochkor once a week for Hub Day (just like we had, not in Bishkek, but close to it), and then they are separated into groups of 4-5 in 5 different villages outside of Kochkor proper. We visited Rakhat’s village, and Valerie and I came in at the tail end of one of their Kyrgyz lessons. I learned we have a new baby in the cohort, a new dude who is 20 and younger than I was when I first came to Kyrgyzstan. I guess I’m still the youngest female volunteer, but he’s like me, he graduated early. 

Rakhat went with us to the salt mine, and she even told us, that being near it meant the food was always prepped with more salt. We met Baarkul, our old TCF (teaching and culture facilitator, Rakhat is in charge of teaching language, Baarkul is in charge of teaching how to teach), and we also got to meet before we left. 

Then this leads to my departure to Song Kol. Ruth, another PCV in our cohort, and the oldest in our group, lives and works near Song Kol, a gorgeous and remote-ish lake in Naryn and a very popular tourist stop. Due to its remoteness, you often have to arrange a tour and get a separate driver in a group, amongst other things, but regardless of what you do, you have to arrange for someone to drive you there and drive you back. After talking to the manager of the yurt camp I reserved on WhatsApp, I decided I wouldn’t do that because I was solo and it was super expensive (going alone would be in the 100-120$ range for a round trip). I arrived in Kochkor to the beginnings of rain and found a driver to drive me to Song Kol. Because it was raining and there wasn’t a lot of demand to go to Song Kol, he drove me alone and charged me around 75$ for the one-way. I attempted to negotiate, but ultimately, I needed to get to Song Kol more than anything, so I agreed but it was pretty awful. He was an awful driver who kept hacking and coughing in the taxi, and he ate sunflower seeds the whole time, ripping off the shells and getting them all over the seats. He also made me deeply uncomfortable, so I resolved I’d get out of Song Kol a different way rather than with a scamming old taxi driver. 

Yet once I got to Song Kol, it was a beautiful vision. The old eje who owned the place was ecstatic whenever I spoke in Kyrgyz to her, and they served us some excellent food. I quickly befriended Acia, the 15-year-old who spoke good English and was in charge of helping cook food, talk to tourists, and other administrative books and money-keeping. In the summer, she works at the yurt camp, and in the fall, she returns to her village to study. There were several groups passing through the camp, the first a large German and Russian group who took up like 5 yurts to themselves. I only got to talk to one of them, a lovely German woman named Victoria, while we walked and hiked up nearby mountains. She and some of her family were born in Kyrgyzstan a long time ago, their ancestors having fled to the Soviet Union during one of the world wars. But at a young age, she moved back to Germany, and this trip was a sort of homecoming for her, which we talked about while sitting atop the mountain, overlooking the gorgeous lake. 

The lake itself was stunning, particularly against the sunset. Our camp was just a twenty-ish minute walk to the lake, though you couldn’t swim in the water because it was so cold. Song-Kol was very cold, interesting to me because it was the middle of July, and it rained several times through the night. It felt like 50 degrees (or like 10 C), and I put my rain jacket to good use. The second group of tourists I met were two women, an art teacher from Tunisia and a woman from Egypt, both of whom live in the United Arab Emirates outside Abu Dhabi. They had a guide with them from Issyk-Kul who I spoke to in Kyrgyz, who learned English from a Peace Corps Volunteer 20 years ago. I often hear testimonies, often from the Peace Corps itself, about people who later learned English or found success after the work of a volunteer, but this was one of the first times I heard this organically. I continue to think of my work, and seeing him was a reminder of the long-term impact of what we do. One of my students could be like him or find a path like his, but it will be a long time from now. The four of us went on a horse ride to the lake, and it was my first time on a horse! I know that’s crazy because it’s been a year, but there just haven’t been a lot of opportunities, and in my village, it seems to be generally frowned upon for women (I’ve never seen a woman on a horse in my village, but I’ve seen boys very young on one). In Song-Kol at the camp, young boys aged 4-5 put on horses was a daily occurrence. 

Two problems plagued me on the first day in Song Kol: I hadn’t brought enough cash with me to give the yurt camp (the scammy taxi driver took most of it), and I didn’t have a complete plan on how I was going to leave Song-Kol. This gets me to the other thing: Song Kol has no service. None. Nada. Nothing. No internet, no Wifi, no calling, no texts, and the only source of electric charging power was a large outlet box in the eating room with one cord. The person I was talking to on Whatsapp after I booked the place? Acia's sister who lives in Bishkek and answers any inquiries from there. So, yes I ventured into Song Kol with a deficit of cash and no service. Jashoo ushundai (Жашоо ушундай- such is life/that's how it is) is a phrase I am going to revitalize. “So your plan is to Жашоо ушундай?” Valerie asked me, and I said firmly yes. Here, stuff sort of just happens, and you can’t get too caught up in anxiety or worry about punctuality or anything. 

Acia had an idea: I could pay her sister who has an MBank account (local bank), and I could transfer money to her that way. I agreed, and she said we would have to ride a horse for over 1.5 hours and climb up an incredibly high mountain to attempt to get a signal. We left the next day and the journey was around 3.5-4 hours roundtrip, only for it to be unsuccessful. We got limited access, and I got notifications on my phone, but no functional cell service. So that sucked. She came to a different arrangement, one I was blown away she offered and that her grandmother accepted: I could leave the yurt camp and pay once I got cell service the next day. I couldn’t believe they would trust me enough for that, particularly because I owed like 100$ with the bed, food, and horseriding all totaled, though I had every intention of paying. However we had no other choice, and I sent the money the next day after I got into Naryn. But after two different horse rides, I’ve come to the conclusion that I sort of like it; it’s very uncomfortable after an hour or two, and I feel small and always about like I’m going to fall off, and I have very poor control of steering. 

That leaves me with the last problem. The taxi driver came back, insisting he could drive me, and even promised he’d ask for less. The driver was making me uncomfortable and being very rude. On my last day, this group of two young Italian couples drove into the camp. I impressed some of them with my knowledge of Italian cities and art, and I offered to translate to their driver in exchange for a ride out of Song Kol the next day. I wouldn’t have usually done that, but I felt much safer with them than the taxi driver. Their English was also good, though they didn’t think so. I think this trip in particular has put into perspective of the different ranges of fluency among tourists, and just being able to have a fluid conversation with me I deem enough to be okay. Functionality over perfect accuracy. One of them, Nicolas, was surprised when I told him I knew how to play Briscola, a popular Italian bar game that I taught Valerie a few days prior and had learned in 2021. “Who taught you to play that?” He asked. No one, Briscola is my favorite combination: Italian culture and card games, and I as much told him. I know my card games, and I know Italy, thus I know Briscola! I played with them at night, as it rained, the sound of droplets faint outside the yurt. I beat them all at Presidents, taught them Slimehead, and got obliterated at Briscola. They even have special Briscola Italian cards (their suits are denari (coins), spade (swords), cupo (cups), and bastone (sticks). 

In the morning, I went on a long hike with them before their driver drove us out of Song-Kol, and I translated for them, as they were on their way to Cholpon Ata in Issyk Kul. The drive back was gorgeous, and they stopped atop some very windy hills and mountains, but it was gorgeous. I got out in Kochkor and then took a taxi to Naryn city proper. Naryn city proper is only 40,000 people (Jalal-Abad is around 120,000-150,000). I met some more tourists in Naryn at the guest house/hostel I was at, a woman from Exeter, another from Belgium, and a man from Slovenia. The hostess at the hostel was another young woman, a 17-year-old in charge of cooking while her parents were away. Kirsten, the Belgian woman, at dinner, told us the girl had recently been broken up with by her boyfriend, so the four of us all went and bought her cookies/tea/candy to cheer her up. 

In Naryn, I met Alex and Jacob, two friends and repeat presences on this blog who live near Naryn, and who showed me around the city. I hiked up to their own version of a Hollywood sign, Naryn in large red letters overlooking the city. I got to visit their American Corner, and Jacob’s old counterpart and his new school director drove us and Will (another volunteer near Naryn) to Tash Rabat, an old fortress a few hours south of Naryn. Tash Rabat itself is quite small, but when we got there, there was a large yurt camp set up, and we had a picnic on the hill. The guys had a photo shoot, and we got back late. Jacob and I met by accident in the evening for burgers and shwarma. The day I left we tried to find breakfast at 9 am, but no place was open, even the advertised 24/7 places, closed at 9 AM! False advertising. 

Anyway, I passed through Bishkek one last time, back again at Apple Hostel, because marshrutkas to Jalal-Abad leave at like 6:30 in the morning. I passed through as one large group of 15-20 Dutch tourists were hogging the outside eating spaces. I met again an independent Dutch dude I had seen when I first came through, and the staff remembered me. He was obsessed with getting the hostel cat vaccinated, and I met a Greek dude who was raised in Argentina and spoke with an interesting accent, a softspoken guy from Cairo, some more Brits, and some recently arrived French tourists who got the chance to guest at a locals house. I came home through the express marshrutka to Jalal-Abad, my now third time taking that route, and it’s always painfully long, albeit beautiful and cheap. Two moms kept getting up to move their kids, and the driver played painfully loud Kyrgyz music on the speakers while I was trying to sleep. 

It’ll soon be August, and I guess I’m more than halfway through the summer. As a second summer, it has felt slow and languid in a good way. Bad in other ways. Getting stuck on medical leave and throwing up wasn’t my idea of a good time for the first week of July. It’s unbearably hot sometimes here in Jalal-Abad without any AC, but the construction workers have finally finished the second level of the house and have left. I got the chance to see Inside Out 2 in theaters in Bishkek in English. Most of K-28 has gone already. My vacation was chaotic and messy and long rides on marshrutkas and taxis and full of random tourists I’ll never meet or see in my life again. Full of people from around the world speaking to me in English, while I was often the only person around to speak Kyrgyz. It was my first time in Naryn, my first chance to meet new K-30 volunteers and my first time to ride a horse. It was actually cold in the middle of July, something I already missed after I came back. Now I’ve been to 5 oblasts (still missing Talas and Batken, but I’m not allowed to go to Batken). Lots of other volunteers have been going overseas this summer to India, Turkey, Mongolia, Bosnia, Greece, amongst others, but Kyrgyzstan has so many hidden jewels (and is cheaper) to discover, and I came to Kyrgyzstan to see all of it in its beauty. I’ll go back to teaching and my regular job soon enough, but for now, I’m collecting wild tourist stories and climbing up mountains, the sun and sky ahead of me, and the wind behind me. 

À Bientôt,

Grace 

Music!

1. Death Wish Love- Benson Boone
2. ICE- Faouzia
3. Control- Zoe Wees
4. Still Here- League of Legends
5. 21 Candles- Zoe Wees
6. Feel Something- Isak Danielson
7. Control of Me- RIELL
8. Battleground- Sam Tinnesz