A Difficult Introduction to Kyrgyzstan

Kyrgyzstan has been the most mentally challenging country for me on our travels so far.

We spent our first two days in the capital city of Bishkek. From our first few moments there, we immediately felt like we were in a recognizably different place from the rest of our travels. The city was adorned with monuments from its Soviet era, more pollution, and a less polished feel, more distanced from western development. This gives it a strong central Asian cultural identity - from the fashion to the architecture, the history and tradition of the country is evident.

We wanted to limit our time in the city because the true richness of Kyrgyzstan lies in its otherworldly nature. This is a place you come to be outside. So we didn’t have much of a plan for the city other than a few logistical items like haircuts, SIM cards, figuring out where we will go from Bishkek, and shopping for some hiking supplies.

This is how we found ourselves stumbling into a coffee shop experience that filled both our hearts and cups. No plan, no place to be, and no time limit. We sat down at a coffee bar for a morning sip. As Jovan was deciding what bean flavor he wanted for his V60, a helpful voice across the room shared his recommendation. With only six stools surrounding the coffee bar, the other couple sitting there quickly joined the conversation too. We were talking about coffee and getting recommendations for our Kyrgyzstan plan, which, to this point, was nonexistent.

As the conversation amongst the five of us continued, we became aware that the first guy, Chihoon, who gave us the recommendation, was the owner of the shop. He got behind the counter and, with enthusiasm pouring out of him, he began pouring for us. He gave us tastings of different bean variations, teaching us some of the science behind coffee and sharing the story behind his passion.

He was backpacking 11 years ago, and became deeply fascinated with coffee during this time. He traveled to South America and began learning from experts with their own coffee farms. He spent a couple of years deep-diving and absorbing all that he could.

His coffee was genuinely some of the best we have ever had. Apart from learning interesting new information about coffee, what stuck with me the most was learning from someone who is doing something they love. I’m finding myself the most inspired by people who dive headfirst into a topic that interests them. I crave this feeling, to deeply know something beyond a surface-level interest and become consumed by it. I admire people with niche interests who orient their lives toward the pursuit of knowledge and curiosity. People who take risks outside of the norm and follow their deepest interests, especially when it’s not a safe or conventional path.

Jovan and I both walked away inspired, and also impressed. How impressive is it that we just spent almost three hours at this coffee shop, having a conversation with the owner and baristas behind the counter, along with this other couple next to us? Could this ever happen in the US? These are the moments that can be created when people aren’t in a rush or constrained by time or productive output.

We spent some time exploring Bishkek through the food and gathered insights into the strong nomadic culture in Kyrgyzstan. Meat is abundant here, in basically every dish, particularly horse meat. Other foods high in fats and calories like high-fat dairy products, noodles, and potatoes, are very traditional to keep the nomads satiated.

We also began to recognize all the wool and felt products here, another outcome of the nomadic traditions. I like how colorful things here are, and the people are friendly. The culture seems very strong. Small impressions like these began to form, and I was feeling excited to see the rest of the country and learn about this different way of life.

Before we left Bishkek, we had an evening in the hostel with two guys we met from…. Indiana. I saw one of the guys with an IU hat, and the other was wearing a Pacers jersey. We asked them if they went to IU, and not only did they both say yes, but they were both one year below us, studying business at Kelley, and they both grew up in Carmel. One of the guys had quit his marketing job at the beginning of the year to travel, and the other was on a summer break before starting his job in law.

It was intriguing to see more backpackers in our limited time in Kyrgyzstan than we have seen combined in nearly all of our travels over five months. American backpackers especially are like rare gems. We’ve maybe met four along our travels, and here we were meeting two people from Indiana. Why are Americans traveling to Kyrgyzstan? Nearly everyone had the same answer: “my Instagram algorithm.” And honestly? Me too.

I first started to see videos of Kyrgyzstan pop up on my Instagram a year or two ago, and the beauty of the country and its people immediately grabbed my attention. I couldn’t predict before coming here how much seeing these videos would change my experience of the country. Remember when I said Kyrgyzstan was the most mentally challenging country for me to travel through so far? This is a factor.

But before I expand on that thought, another factor developed first. We were now in Kochkor, a four hour marshrutka ride away from Bishkek. It was a very small town, with one main street, and its notability came from it being a transport hub to get to other areas of the country. We weren’t quite ready to transport somewhere else yet, though. We were here to do a nearby two-day hike that is not as often on the traditional tourist route.

The hike was beautiful, our first time seeing the classic Kyrgyz landscape of abundant rivers, mountains, and horses that I was expecting. This first day took us five hours to reach our destination for the night. We climbed a hill at 3000m and descended into a valley with a huge, bright blue lake and a couple of yurts where we would spend the night. It was remote and vast. We felt at peace in the quiet landscape, ready for dinner and a rest after the hike.

Companions during our hike

First view of our yurt camp at the lake

We were warned that the food at the yurts would be minimal and not great, given the obvious constraints of living remotely. We shared a traditional soup for dinner with the six other guests who were here for the evening and were then naturally guided to bed by the setting sun and cold nighttime air approaching.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a weird feeling in my stomach. I felt like I was going to be sick. But it never came, and I slept through the night. Eating breakfast was an impossible feat. Instead, I sat on a rock outside of the yurt, unable to move from the intense stomach nausea. We were supposed to hike more that day, to another lake at a higher elevation where we would spend the night. We knew it wasn’t going to happen, and instead Jovan packed our bags while I very slowly got myself to my feet to walk down the way we came in.

I could barely walk any distance before needing a break. It was going to be a reallyyyy long journey back to the start of the hike.

Struggling

Filtering water at the lake that probably made me sick

Luckily, I finally threw up and felt a bit better. But we still had at least four hours ahead of us, and I could barely bring myself to walk. We were so fortunate to see a car coming towards us, and Jovan flagged them down for a hitchhike. Two of the sweetest and most positive German girls cleared space in their car for us, and I was so thankful, although really fighting myself to not get sick on the extremely bumpy off-road path down.

The next day was lost to sleep, and I was so thankful to have the best life partner in Jovan by my side.

Being sick has a way of opening up your deepest desire for comfort. Your own bed, own bathroom, your own control of the situation. My senses were heightened to everything around me that wasn’t in my comfort zone. The smells that surrounded me were the worst part. Since horses are such an integral part of the country, naturally there is horse poop everywhere. Also naturally, it is used as fuel for fires since it is highly flammable. Our fire in the yurt was, of course, fueled by this burning poop, and it seemed like everywhere we went, I couldn’t escape it.

Paved roads aren’t such a thing here. The dust and gravel very much are. The smells, dust mixed with car pollution, and food all became negatives to me. I’d like to think that being sick caused my viewpoint, but I started to feel unsure. Maybe I just can’t handle this form of travel. Do I need certain comforts? I was craving western comfort. A specialty coffee shop with nice air conditioning became a far away fantasy. I dreamed of taking a flight to somewhere like Copenhagen or Stockholm, where I could eat a nice cardamom bun surrounded by bikes and no more car pollution.

The hardest part of this mindset for me was remembering how I felt in Portugal. I loved Portugal a lot, and can’t wait to one day go back. But there were also times when I felt myself waiting for my “real” travels to begin. Something more different, less western. Now here I was. I had it. Yet, I was feeling unhappy. What was wrong with me? Is this just something I’m not equipped to handle?

What’s more, the other travels around me all were having great experiences here. I also had these expectations of what my travel here would be like, because of Instagram. Everyone talks about how this is one of their favorite countries they’ve ever been to. I’m not having that experience, and my mind is clouded my negatives and judgements. I don’t want to try the fermented horse milk, the fatty meats, and the fermented cheese balls. I’m not opening my mind to new, different, exciting ideas. I feel stuck.

My sickness very quickly passed, and we were off to our next destination of Kyzart, where we would begin a 3 day 2 night horse trek with a local family. The family immediately greeted us so warmly, truly making us feel apart of the big family full of many children. We had a home-cooked dinner, which my stomach wasn’t quite ready to handle yet, but my heart was able to appreciate.

Sweet family

The next day, we were off on the family’s horses with one of their friends as a guide. He spoke absolutely no English besides “left, right, no, yes, and dinner.”Jovan and I couldn’t stop sharing glances as our horses took off with us receiving zero instruction on what to do. As we crossed the street towards the field where we would start the journey, our guide gestured to the reigns, pulling them left and right to show us how to guide the horses.

Ready to head off with no instructions!

The lack of instruction turned out not to be a problem because the horses knew exactly what to do. We were just there for the four-hour ride, really not needing to do anything but sit and enjoy the landscape open up around us. It was incredible. I felt like the first person on the planet, discovering the world on horseback. We went deep through valleys and rolling mountains, and it felt like another world.

A world that exists free of any form of development, one that has been untouched. It was unique. I think something this beautiful in most other places would have a road built through it, with viewpoint platforms inviting visitors to admire the beauty.

Normally I’m never one for animal tourism. But this felt different, in my eyes, because this is something that nomads in Kyrgyzstan actually do. It wasn’t built for tourists. Instead, for hundreds of years, it has been done by people here, and they are letting us into this life. People spend days passing through these valleys to get to their yurt camps, where families spend the summer.

We made it to our yurt camp. We had experienced some of the most beautiful rivers and hills all around us on the horse trek, and now we were sleeping in a yurt amongst this beauty. We got to the camp with plenty of time to lay out with a book and enjoy the peace. This yurt camp was a lot nicer than our first one in Kochkor, and we shared dinner with a few other guests.

The next morning, we were off to the main attraction: Song Kul lake. Another beautiful day on horseback, and we made it to our new yurt for the night, right by the lake. We were lucky with beautiful weather, and took advantage of the time to take walks by the lake, read our books, and play card games. I loved the peace that came from our time here. We woke up with the sunrise, fell asleep with the sunset, and never failed to set an alarm in the middle of the night to go outside and look at the stars in this wonderful place filled with no light pollution.

This time really rejuvenated me. By the third day, we rode back to our family in Kyzart, and I knew this was what I needed. Jovan helped me a lot in my evolution of thought by helping me process my emotions. It was a beautiful dance of making me feel heard and affirming how I felt, while also simultaneously sharing his own feelings. He had been enjoying the more rugged form of travel that Kyrgyzstan was bringing to us. The difficult logistics were a fun challenge, not a stress. The negotiating with taxi drivers was part of the experience, not a point of exhaustion. Where I found divergence of expectation vs reality, he had no expectation to draw from. He was just here for the ride. Maybe due to not having social media, or maybe just through his natural positive disposition, he was enjoying the journey for what it was. Traveling with him made everything easier. I was feeling supported and validated, and ready to open my mind again.

I admired Chihoon for being curious about something completely unfamiliar. But when Kyrgyzstan asked me to do the same, I wasn’t sure I could. But, I knew I wanted to. And that’s when the rest of our time here opened up.