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Arriving at Bishkek
Downtown Bishkek
Around Bishkek
Out of Bishkek

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Bishkek

Intro

     My introduction to Kyrgyzstan was arriving at Manas International Airport at about 5 in the morning after a 10+ hour flight at about the same time as another flight from which a horde of military personnel disembarked. After having lived in Munich and Frankfurt I was familiar the sight until it struck me that neither the uniforms nor language spoken was what I was expecting for where I was... in an ex-Soviet republic! They were American !!! Yes Kyrgyzstan is the home of one of the biggest American military bases in Central Asia.

     Back to the trip...The flight was comprised mainly of two stopovers, one in Frankfurt and one in Moscow,and meant that I spent more time waiting than actually flying, next time I'll know better.
As much as the stopover at Frankfurt was known territory and the time was spent reading the 4 hour stopover at Moscow was unknown territory, instructive and amusing, especially the sight of female airport customs personnel in tight short skirts, long blond hair and high heal shoes walking from point A to point B, on supposedly important business and in full view of the hordes of mostly foreign travelers!!! Astute psychology.
Anyway by the time I got to Manas airport I was happy to arrive, noting in the process that Aeroflot "in-flight" meals are the same as "in-flight" meals on any airline company. Yes I was there, safe and sound, and more or less psyched up for my stay in Kyrgyzstan but feeling very much - and for the first time in many, many years - like a schoolboy (the real reason of my visit to Bishkek being a tale for another time and place).

     But I wasn't out of the airport yet, I needed a visa. While waiting for my visa - the customs officer had to go and wake the visa official - I watched as another plane arrived from a gulf state. Some very merry Russian passengers, who had visibly made every effort, the time of the flight, to make up for a very hot and possibly alcohol free stay in Bahrain, Dubai or somewhere arrived in the customs hall and proceed to fight a losing battle to stay upright, struggle with their luggage and try to get passports out of elusive pockets, causing more smiles than reproaches from the customs officials, obviously used to such a sight.

     ...and 30 minutes later there I was in Bishkek I had arrived at my hotel at 6.30 in the morning too phased, but safe and sound, to take it in in the surroundings.

Its worth noting in passing that 20 odd years spent in the Hotel trade means that some old reflexes never die. On arriving at the hotel, and although still on the plane, so to speak, I found myself looking in corners and behind doors, curious to see how the hotel compared to the hotels in the west, starting with the reception but tiring rapidly I switched off just after the receptionist asked me if I wanted breakfast and surfaced later in the day for lunch and the rest of the day was spent adapting.

     Next day was another day and fresh and restaured I set off into the wide unknown with my now faithful Photosmart 945 to capture scenes of bustling downtown life in Bishkek, stepping out the front door of the hotel I expected a row of waiting cabs and on finding nothing I set off down the road to find... nothing, I kid you not I could have pulled a chair out into the middle of the road and sat their waiting but I contented myself to stand in the middle of the road and snap away until the first car came down the road swerving just in time but not to avoid me but the enormous pothole in the middle of the road!!!

The little voice by my side said we would have to go to the intersection to get a bus. OK with me and cheaper than a taxi, I thought, so we set off in search of the nearest bus stop. When the bus eventually arrived I had to ask twice if it really was the bus, I mean I come from the country that invented "Double deckers" and live in a town full of bendibuses and Trams and I was about to make acquaintance with the famous Bishkek Marshrutka. Pearls of perspiration broke out on my forehead at the thought of climbing into a minibus, whatever its charming local name, with space for 20 seated and 10 standing passengers and no air-conditioning. I had braved Tokyo's subway system but the prospect of doubling myself up in a stuffy overcrowded minibus brought out the claustrophobic in me, especially as sometimes you got the impression that more than 30 actually managed to get in!!!

So why didn't I get on, why don't more people get on one of the trolley-buses that occasionally rattle down the middle of the road, desperately empty? Well they are very slow and they don't got everywhere the people want to go, i.e. the numerous big market bazaars (like the Dordoy Bazaar housed in a enclosure built of freight containers), and they don't stop almost anywhere you to tell the driver to stop. The Marshrutka minibuses really seem like a pervert's paradise(definitely a pickpocket's one)...so promiscuous, but so handy.
(NB. The Marshrutka are fast and handy but, although regulated, they are also the target of traffic police for overcrowding or targets of rival buses vying for the same trade obliging passengers to hone reflexes worthy of a ninja to avoid getting forced back into a muddy ditch that often replaces a pavement)

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Downtown Bishkek

     Finally arriving in downtown Bishkek what to do. Well actually there's quite a bit to do and for the 2 weeks I was there my guiding light showed me Art museums, parks, attraction parks, restaurants, shops , monuments and of course bazaars,

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we even had the dubious privilege of watching a demonstration of revolting peasants and as much as I would have stood to side to walk such a manifestation in France I had the distinct even disturbing feeling that for a nothing I would have been the object of anti-foreigner feelings, the presence of the Americans in Kyrgyzstan is not to everyone's liking following stories of aggressions on Kyrgyz women by American service personnel, so I discreetly took some photos and eclipsed.

Around Bishkek

     A couple of days after arriving I decided that I wanted to change hotels and move somewhere a little closer so we found a small hotel nearer to the town centre than the Hotel Korund which, although of perhaps a better standing, didn't have a restaurant open for evening meals and no shops in the vicinity to procure the necessary. And so it was we found a small hotel called the "Alpinist".

Like the Hotel Korund the Hotel Alpinist is run by native ethnic Kyrgyz,whose facial features ranged, I noted with interest -an interest acquired after visiting Japan and Shanghai - from brown round Mongol to angular white Chinese. However contrary to the Hotel Korund, which has a more classical, almost Soviet style about it, the Hotel Alpinist has a more informal style about it, more relaxed and friendly. They also said they served meals although they weren't really all that happy about cooking because the demand for evening meals was so low their margin was as well so they eventually made us understand that we would do better to go out to one of the numerous local restaurants, which we did with pleasure and we soon discovered that there were a fair number of reasonably good restaurants within walking distant.

     Being better installed I felt easier about going into and around town, even to the point of wondering around and stumbling upon, to my immense joy, small surprises such as a Soviet era Sukhoi airplane parked out side of a Military school.

And although one did get the impression that Bishkek's ± 1 000 000 inhabitants all had the habit of congregating in the same streets, go through the same underpass and use the same Marshrutka Bishkek isn't really overcrowded even at rush hour, perhaps its because the wide boulevards never actually seemed jammed packed with cars like other capitals.

One thing Bishkek does have is lots of small parks but it was strange, even sad, for the Brit I am to see the parks in apparent abandon, the grass uncut, most of the fountains empty and the roadsides unkempt, full of litter. Even the fairground looked run down but that didn't, doesn't stop the lovers sitting on the park benches or the small children scrambling over swings and bars that would have been banned from any western park.

NB. One of the parks we visited was called "Dzierzynski" park. Chilling thought. I could accept the statue of Lenin but a park called "Dzierzynski" evoked sombre stories but that didn't stop me looking around and feeling a bit disappointed at the absence of any statue to the feared head of the Soviet secret police.

Out of Bishkek...to Issyk Kul

     Bishkek isn't that big and although the Kyrgyz people are historically nomadic I didn't get the impression that they went out into the country as we would in France, especially where I live in Grenoble where the mountains are so close that after a 30 minutes drive you would find yourself going steadily up some mountainside road. Not so in Bishkek, which explains the multitude of parks and green spaces.

     However much the difference between Bishkek and Grenoble I couldn't help raising my eyes, seeing mountains and wanting to go there, as I would do in Grenoble, so with my guiding light we organized a 2 day trip to Lake Issyk Kul, east of Bishkek.
Having said that the habitants of Bishkek don't go out into the surrounding country with the ease the habitants of Grenoble do, Issyk Kul plays a role in the lives of the habitants of Bishkek. Many of them make annual pilgrimages to the shores of Issyk Kul to spend a week's holiday eating dried fish, drinking the local beer and relaxing on the ruddyish red coloured sandy beaches.

     With those thoughts in mind we set off on a 4 hour long trip to Issyk Kul, happy to have had a solid breakfast before setting out,...4 hours cooped up in a minibus, slightly more spacious than the run of the mill Marshrutka but just as devoid of suspension, meant that no sooner had we drawn up at a road side restplace, after 2 hours driving though, over and around extra large sized potholes it was a race for the WCs and seance Tai chi for everyone!!!

     250 Kilometres later we finally stopped at a town called "Chalpan-Ata", on the northern shore of the lake, where we were staying. We got off the bus and set off in search of the Sanitorium that would be our lodgings for the night and even though it was only some 100 metres from the bus stop I was seriously puffing and wondering why my backpack felt so heavy by the time we got there.
Before I go any further - the time to get my breath back - its worth writing here that "Chalpan-Ata" is renowned for its Sanitoria and used to play host to large numbers of Tourists, Curists and Soviet athletes looking to benefit from the region and the altitude. Yes I learnt that "Chalpan-Ata" is situated at ±1600 metres altitude, no wonder I was puffing! It was a strange sensation because I didn't have the impression of going up as you do when you go up the mountain roads outside Grenoble so for me I was still at the same Altitude as Bishkek, ± 750 metres.

The weather was warm and sunny and we were by the side of the lake that looked so enticing I couldn't resist going for a paddle. My guiding light warned me that it would be cold but Brit that I am I said if I could paddle in the seas off the English coast I could paddle here and promptly found out that the water was no more than 15 degrees Celsius, if that!

The Sanitorium was a revelation. Situated next to one of the 2 Presidential residences on the lake it is a sprawling complex with bungalow type units dotting a park full of trees and animals and only some 100 metres from a private beach that was needless to say empty at that time of the year. Empty....apart from some very healthy Russian athletes, one of who came bounding down the track, run up and down the beach a couple of times, ran back up the track, turned around and promptly sprinted down the beach and dived head first into the water!!! I was out of breath just look at the guy and decidedly disgusted at his healthy tan. I don't know about him but I slept well at 1600 metres. The air was crystal clear and the bungalow we had was well equipped and I was pleased the the 4 hour trip there was worth it.

     Back in Bishkek. It was the last leg of my trip to Kyrygyzstan and all in all I was happy to have had someone with me to show and explain things I would have otherwise have missed, making the trip all the more pleasant and interesting.
I was soon back on the plane, heading back home with a head full of souvenirs, as well as plans for the future and the knowledge that I would one day be heading back there but this time not as a simple tourist, my guiding light having become in the meantime my wife! Bless her!

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©Nick Richards 11/2007