Of Wolves and Swans

Two weeks of no school, due to an ambiguous epidemic. A plan to travel to Naryn, one of the most out-there places in Kyrgyzstan, is approved by my program manager. Some extra som found, left from my training. A trip is formed!
I first called my good buddy in Naryn - I'd like to come down and see him, help him teach his classes for a week, catch up on things, and in general do something other than sit around for a couple weeks. He tells his host family about it, but he makes a mistake - he tells them that my school is closed due to an epidemic where people are getting sick. They refuse to allow me to come out to see him and stay for a few days... they fear I'll bring sickness with me, they don't know me, and in general just want to avoid anything to do with me. So I call out to my other training friend who lives about 40 minutes away - she says it'll work, to come on down. And so, I have a plan to go to Naryn!
Naryn is considered to be the "most Kyrgyz" part of Kyrgyzstan because it has the most primary Kyrgyz-speakers living in it, as well as the most ethnically-Kyrgyz population in country. It's also the most mountainous region of Kyrgyzstan. The people living there are, for the most part, relatively poor. Fruits and vegetables are unheard of in Naryn - it's supposedly the "meat" oblast of Kyrgyzstan, having many herds. However, since meat is expensive, most people just eat bread and little else. It has many expanses of nothingness - barren fields before one hits the mountains - proving to be very difficult yet very beautiful land. It's an oblast PC claims to send "the toughest" volunteers because of such situations.
I started my trip on Sunday, November 23rd, quite early in the morning. The previous day I had two perogatives in Talas City: use the internet, and get a haircut. The former didn't work because there was no electricity in the city, and I just barely managed to get a haircut before the shop was bombarded by customers. Somewhat discontent with the happenings, particularly not being able to inform people back home that I would be out for Thanksgiving, I set out for Bishkek at 8 a.m. in an attempt to catch the 1 p.m. bus to Ak Tala. The ride was bad from Talas - I got a bad price from the driver (bargaining didn't work...), his door kept on popping open throughout the ride - which made it quite cold on the mountain passes - and he decided to take a "shortcut" detour around Bishkek once we got to the entrance of the city. This resulted in us going about 20 minutes out of our way, getting stopped by the police, and getting to the voksal (bus/taxi/transport station) later than anticipated. I had missed the bus.
When we got to the voksal, I walked about 10 feet before being bombarded by someone wanting to know where I'm going - undoubtedly one of the typical roughians looking to get a good deal for a driver. I told him where I was going, and he laughed. "No taxis go there," he said. "You'll have to wait for the 7 p.m. bus that goes to Baetov." Fortunately, I persisted and kept on saying no, there's a way. A lady named Sonun came up to the conversation and inquired about the situation - she knows the area, knows of the volunteers working out there, knows where the taxis are. So I follow her to the typical taxi spots, and watch as she goes to work, arguing with the drivers. Lo and behold, there's one taxi with a cardboard sign in the window - Naryn City, Ak-Tala. It's practically a miracle... no taxis go to that part of Naryn. But I managed to find it, with the help of this extraordinary woman, and about half an hour later - when we get three other members to ride with us - we embark toward the most remote part of Kyrgyzstan that Peace Corps serves in.
The ride was fairly uneventful, albeit very long. I first met and introduced myself to the second passenger (myself being the first) - Marat. He's three years older than me, doing something with the military, generally a decent-mannered fellow. The driver, Adilet, is also very cordial and accomodating. These two are fairly interested in this particular American going to Ak Tala. It's not a tourist spot, it's difficult to get to, and it's their home. I tell them I'm going to see and help my friends out there, a bit about myself and my work, etc. Overall, two very nice people from this encounter. The other two passengers were insignificant to the trip for me - one eje who works at the university in Naryn City, and a teacher at the village I'm going to whose "prominence" is only outshined by his girth. Along the way we stopped at a cafe - having little money to spare, I settle for a coffee, despite Marat insisting I eat. Generously, he pays the 15 or so som that I owe toward the bill, and I give him a "Chong Rakmat - big thanks" for that.
The road to Naryn is very different from the road to Talas. There are mountains, but the road goes along the bases of them moreso than climbing into them (which is what the road to Talas does). It's also not a very good road, but it manages somehow -- a consistent theme with Kyrgyzstan. The way was beautiful! When we got to Naryn City, we dropped off the eje at her house and got a flat tire for that. After replacing the tire, we headed out toward Ak Tala, but first the taxi stopped at a store to pick up some "refreshments" and bread. The driver and I don't drink the beer, opting for some Fanta instead.
About 5 minutes outside the city, we stop on the side of the road to enjoy our little "Chai Eech" (drink tea - the standard call for food) and replenish ourselves a bit. I take some bread and Fanta, as do the other members of the taxi. While we're taking this moment to re-energize, something big walks up to the taxi. It goes right up to the front of the car, into the headlight spectrum, and the driver calls out, with much venom, "Karushkur!" It's a black wolf, undoubtedly in search of food. Kyrgyz people hate them because wolves hunt sheep etc. whereas I love wolves, taking them as my favorite animal due to their beauty, mystique, and overall nature. It was amazing, seeing for the first time a real wild wolf in-person. It almost makes up for me missing out on safari prospects in not going to PC Africa.
We head on out - it being late and all - and make our way down the road. About 40 minutes outside the city we see my friend Mike's village - it's pointed out to me, and I see about one light in this tiny village of about 800 people. A little ways past this village, we seemingly randomnly stop, turn around, and face the opposite destination direction. The headlights are shone out onto a lake on the left side of the road. On the lake, there are two swans, swimming gracefully and elegantly. How this company knew they were out there at this time, I couldn't comprehend. But it was majestic - I hadn't seen swans in a long time, and they were seemingly dancing out on the water. After a moment of amazement, we turned around in the right direction and headed out to my friend's village.
We arrive fairly late at this village. The ride from Talas to Bishkek is about 4-5 hours; the ride from Bishkek to this particular town is about 8-9 hours. It's roughly 9 or 10 at night when I get to my friend's home - getting a decent send-off from Marat and Adilet (not before getting the driver's number, of course - a taxi driver who can go to this town is valuable indeed). My friend, Micah (though she goes by Maia quite often because Micah means underwear in Kyrgyz), comes out to greet me. Her family is quite befuddled - they were told two hours previously that I would be coming, and they didn't know I'm male. So their reception was fairly unbemused and non-standard to the typical Kyrgyz. However, they also weren't overly mad or pushy. I give them an offering of bananas - something they cannot get in Naryn - and thank them for having me. They seem wholely underwhelmed and suspicious, but things didn't go bad (at least while I was there, I hope things aren't bad for my friend now because of my visit). Still, it's not "proper" for a female to have a non-family male guest over, though we tend to take liberty with that being American and all.
It was great seeing Micah again. She, Mike and I all lived together in the same training village, and grew to be friends during that time. Now we're separated by a 12-14 hour ride through mountains and a couple oblasts. Micah and I immediately got into happenings and goings-on, despite my tiredness from the long ride. The differences become apparently stark from the get-go -- meals consist mostly of bread and tea, the mannerisms of the family, the seemingly lethargic burden born upon the back of my friend apparent in her gait. However, there's an optimism and excitement pervading the entire thing - there's a reason this particular volunteer was sent to this, one of the most difficult sites. It's good to catch up, and good to see one another - she had only had two volunteers over at her place since arriving at site, and they're both from the oblast.
I spent a good deal of my time in Naryn helping teach classes with Micah. She is the 3rd or 4th volunteer serving in her village, so she has, as I would say, an amazing set up at her school. First, she has her own classroom, which is something I would kill for. Second, she has all sorts of goodies up around the room - grammar posters, alphabet charts, a stockpile of books, two big and real (re: not something akin to a piece of wood) chalkboards, quality desks... The instant I walked into that room I was jealous.
When I went Micah was in the middle of a transition - she was teaching most of her classes on her own because her primary counterpart was a retired woman who was supposed to teach 4 hours in a week but only came in for maybe 2. So we had some good ol' fashioned volunteer/American lessons to give, particularly since we're generally on the same page. However, her program manager came during my visit, and the solo game for her changed. Man, I wish I had this particular program manager (she doesn't work with Talas) because she completely kicked ass and got Micah's requests fulfilled - it was quite possibly one of the most awesome things I've seen in Kyrgyzstan. So Micah is now team-teaching with a really nice English teacher. The remainder of my time there was attempting to portray how team-teaching should go - hope it worked, since my experiences weren't so hot up to that point.
The rest my time at Micah's village was spent just hanging around with her. We played a lot of cards, spent some time being goofy with her host brother and cousin (on Tuesday the 'rents booked it out of the village for Bishkek, which was... odd...), and overall having an enjoyable time. One day we went out to the outlying hills to get a view of the area: gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. We also decided to make some food -- no-bake cookies (excellent), butter cookies with chopped up chocolate bars in them, steamed carrots, macaroni n' cheese, garlic baked chicken. Felt good to get some more cooking in, particularly since it all tasted great.
On Thursday we went to Mike's village. It took us about 1 1/2 hours to find a ride to the village -- the 1 o'clock marshrutka/bus that was supposed to come apparently didn't, and taxis wanted pretty ridiculous prices. But we finally caught a blue 'shrutka - a very chaotic ride - and made it to Mike's village.
My first impression of Mike's village: this is what I envisioned when I thought of Peace Corps. It's a village of 800 or so people, very small with nothing but farmers/herders living in it. Mike literally greets every person on the road he meets - he knows many of them by name. All the roads are dirt, the houses are sparse, and there's really nothing to the village. If one goes to the outlying hills, they can capture the entire village in one glance - it's that small.
Mike is my good friend. We were buddies back in our training village, often hanging out, going out for walks, shooting the breeze, etc. He seemed somewhat thrilled to see us. His situation appears to be a lot rougher than what the rest of us are encountering - he pretty much just gets bread, which doesn't fly for him (particularly breakfast - we were once late to a PC meeting because he just had to find some bananas for breakfast). His host mother tends to clean things like bowls and spoons by licking them. There's a newborn and a 1 year old in his house, in addition to an ancient grandmother. Sometimes they'll eat right outside the door to his room - it's difficult for him to get out sometimes. There have been disputes with the family where he's been yelled at, fairly violently. And, remember, these people feared I would get them all sick and refused to allow me to stay there. Also, there have been a few women who were bride-kidnapped since Mike arrived at his site, and he's had to attend one or two of the parties for said occassion. Yeah, my buddy is out on the frontier. He deserves the oranges I got for him.
It really was great getting to see Mike and Micah again. I wish I had more time to spend down there - perhaps in the summer I can go visit. I'd like to spend some more time hanging out with Mike as well - we only got to spend one night together, though it was good (got to experience the wonderful Trader Joe's flattened banana - so good...). The trip down was well worth it, particularly since there seems to be some tension and inter-oblast rivalrly, particularly between Talas and Naryn.
Leaving Naryn, things were seemingly fairly good - both rides, to Bishkek and Talas were 30% cheaper - but they were also fairly bad. On the way to Bishkek, the driver was seemingly trying to pull the 'drive on the shoulder, which is a lot bumpier and slower' trick for a good portion of the ride. We pulled the usual 'stop a bunch of times, for whatever reason' that seems to happen 100% of the time in a mostly-Kyrgyz ride. When we got to Bishkek, we experienced an honest-to-goodness traffic jam, something I haven't experienced since leaving CT. My poor Naryn-bred driver had no idea what to do under the circumstances - it took us a good hour to get through the city to the voksal (bus/taxi/marshrutka station). Once I got out of the taxi, I was bombarded by workers wanting to know where I was going - in less than 5 minutes I had cheap transportation set up to go to Talas.
Now, this marshrutka ride started promisingly, despite the fact that I was leaving very late at 4 p.m. It was cheap ('bout 150 som cheaper than a taxi, 200 som cheaper than it took to get to Bishkek from Talas in the first place), had lots of women (re: non-drunks) in it, and was fairly comfortable when we left. Halfway through Bishkek, however, we decided to pick up some guy's girlfriend, and the row of 3 I was sitting in was smushed into seating 4. The girlfriend, for whatever reason, decided to sit by me. About 30 minutes away from the mountain pass, as I'm starting to nod off from exhaustion, the 'shrutka suddenly realizes that it's uyat (shameful) for this young lady in her 20s and myself to be sitting next to one another, so one Kyrgyz-shuffle later I'm sitting at the window seat (thankfully) with an old eje next to me. About 10 minutes after the switch, this eje takes the liberty of deciding to use me as a pillow for the entirety of the ride. Attempts to shift away resulted in her manuevering into a more comfortable position and securing more of my person as her personal bed. Utterly... ugh... So we clear the first mountain pass, and stop at one of the regular intervals between B-kek and Talas. At first I thought it would just be a bathroom break, but 5 minutes after the young-uns (excluding me) left the 'shrutka the really old ejes decide to go out for a chai eech (tea) break. I'm still stuck in the 'shrutka with the eje sleeping on me - good thing I didn't have to go.
An hour later, as we finally depart from this stop, I'm starting to get irritated. The eje will not budge in her persistence of utilizing the American human pillow. We clear the second mountain pass fine, and are making decent time. But, old eje finally wakes up - her home is coming up. So we make a detour for a good few miles off the main road to deliver said eje to her doorstep - I'm thankful she's off of me, but miffed we've gone out of our way. We get back on the main road, and perhaps half an hour later, one of the most perplexing things I've seen occurred. We veer off to the left side of the road, and the driver pulls up to a set of 4 or 5 other 'shrutkas parked there. We stop, the driver gets out - we drove right into some sort of marshrutka party. People from all the 'shrutkas get out and form a ring (reminded me of the Simpson ring when Homer got all the Simpsons together to prove that they're not all losers) - they're all buddy buddy having a good time. The really old ejes from my 'shrutka are pulled out into the fray. The rest of us are left in the machine, wondering when the heck we're going to leave. I'm getting downright mad at this point - it's about 9 p.m. and still an hour away from Talas. Some different driver hops in the 'shrutka and takes off - finally, we're getting places, I thought. About 20 minutes later, a woman sitting next to me complains that her stop was missed - we turn around. At this point my mind feels like flopping out of my head - I think to myself, "What the hell. We're going in the completely wrong direction now! Arg, this is one of the worst marshrutka rides I've been on..." and proceed to text several people to such an effect. We drop the lady off about 10 minutes down the road, blissfully turn around again, and make it straight to Talas. Thankfully nothing else happened, and I was dropped off at the bazaar without consequence.
Upon arriving in Talas, my first thought was food: I hadn't eaten anything since before leaving Naryn in the morning. I go to every store in Talas that's open - nobody has bread. Arg!! At least the yogurt is good, albeit expensive. So I make my purchase, step in one of the water ditches on my way to a volunteer's apartment, and finally make it to sanctuary. Oh my, oh my. The ride was terrible, but the experience in Naryn was great. Next time, though, I think I'll stop in Chuy for a day or so.