Sunday, 8 April 2012

Song Kul, Kyrgyzstan


I assume that since you are reading this that you are interested in going to or maybe that you have already been to Song-Kul, well since I don’t want to bore anybody with details which you can find on websites (prices and how to get there) I’ll just tell you about my experience there. It’s a long trip and requires hours spent in shaking cars with broken windscreens and dangerous roads. If you don’t speak Russian or Kyrgyz then expect a quiet ride (except the roar of the engine of course) if any part of this puts you off going there then you my friend are going to miss out on one of the most necessary trips which is unnecessary to have (I think this makes sense hmmmm)

Day 2 :

We wake to the light from the open hole in the top of the yurt (which is the symbol of Kyrgyzstan) it shines down onto flower patterned interior where we lay in thick sheets after a good night’s sleep. We exit through the little red door to see the faded blue peaks of the mountains in every direction with the calm and still lake nearby. The ladies and children of the family that we stay with prepare our breakfast while the men work out in the fields, we tell the driver that we are going into the mountains for the night and will be sleeping in a tent, he warns us of the dangers (my gf speaks Russian so she translated) he tells us about the wolves which are out there and that we should be careful but no real fear comes from this and instead after a long walk across the vast fields where the yurts fade out of view we go looking for the wolves (which now doesn’t seem like the best move but at the time was exciting).

We climb up though the beautiful hills of vibrant greens, streams and bright flowers; spotting little animals popping out of their holes to see what all the noise is about. A man on horseback stares down at us from a mountain peak with binoculars and we stare back with a camera. The lake spreads out in the view as we climb higher and the yurts look like tiny dots below smoking away freely. Horses roam across the fields as children happily play on bikes....an amazing sight to behold. Later on we start a fire using horse shit (yeah really...thats what they use here and let me tell you....it works great) and sit peaceful by it while night rolled out above with more stars than you knew existed.

The night...oh the night, sleeping in a tent was a poor choice for this one, rain hammers down and the wind shakes it like a dying leaf trying to hold on. Waterproof seems only to apply to part of this tent and not the one near where my face is pressed, it was a cold, sleepless and miserable night and the morning couldn’t have come any sooner “Ok so tonight we’ll stay in the yurt again” we agreed.



Day 3:

Bathing in the stream we start the day, walking further into the hills and taking time to be a part of it. Watching families putting up their yurts together as we make our way back to where we started from, we are told that we can have a horseback ride around the lake and instantly we agree. Our horses saddle up and off we go, two little children hold on to the horses with a rope and walk slowly ahead so I ask my gf to ask them if we can ride alone and for a moment they agree, the horses race down the field with me pushing it to go faster with the noises we were told, genitals bouncing off the saddle taking more than just my breath away but this was short lived, the children chase us down smiling before holding on again. The horse ride was very refreshing, we travelled across the lake to the bottom of the mountains and the views were incredible, I asked if we could once again ride alone but the faces of the children said it all and we slowly made our way back to the yurt for dinner.

Dinner was a plate of delicious dumplings served with fresh bread and a creamy butter (which isn’t butter) and jam....also Kumis which if you visit Kyrgyzstan you will drink a lot of, its fermented mares milk (yum yum) and you drink it straight from the bowl, I’m not a fan and if you are not either then I have a tip; If you finish the bowl (let’s face it, it would be rude not to) then the kind host will assume that you loved it so much that you would like some more....at this point my tip is obvious, don’t finish the kumis! That stuff will keep coming. Half way through eating we noticed that the driver didn’t have anything “Is this meal for all of us?” I ask to my gf with a mouthful “Oh god I hope not..” we both wait hoping that the lady will return with more food as we stare guiltily to the last remaining dumpling on the plate “Offer it to him” I say just before the lady returns with more and we both breathe deep signs of relief.

More tourists pull up, at this point (even just after two days here) you form a bond with the people, you get to know your host family and feel a part of their lives so when tourists pull up and you hear the accents leaving the car talking about the world beyond here it’s quite unwelcome (for me it was anyway) you feel a bond with your surroundings too and the thought of leaving is a sad one, there is something to this place which is more than just beauty, the atmosphere makes you connect with the local people as though you spoke the same language and were a part of everything they are. Your basic human needs replenish as you leave the world behind....what more can I say?