Our 1993 Kyrgyz Caravan

I am posting this as a supplement to the picture gallery put up by Kyrgyzstan Freenet at http://freenet.kg/gallery/irmela/index.html long before I ever got around to compiling my own

The photos chronicle a one-month trip from Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan, to Tokmak, Lake Issyk Kul, Karakol, Naryn, Osh and surroundings, and many stops in between. Our caravan consisted of myself, my husband, my then 15-year old son, and a support group that changed along the way but usually included a team of drivers, one or more tourist guides, an interpreter, a cook, mountain guides where needed, and most interestingly, an off-duty police officer. Ours was a test case because we were among the first western tourist families to reach the newly independent country, and the local travel agencies were still trying to feel their way around as to what foreign travelers actually needed and expected. We did not know this then but we do now, and we are happy to have had a chance to see the country at its raw best.

The photos and subtitles tell the story best. Anyone taking this kind of trip in Kyrgyzstan today will probably be more comfortable staying in the new hotels that have been built since, sip coffee in Bishkek’s new sidewalk cafés, and may be traveling in luxurious limousine buses rather than in the battered mountain ambulances that carried us through thick and thin. But they may miss some of the hands-on experiences we had in trying to handle a totally different culture, whether that be food-mainly boiled mutton, bread and noodles-or facilities like baths and toilets that looked so different from anything we knew, but had to be mastered no matter what.

I objected only once. It was about a sheep that apparently accompanied us—tied hand and foot—in the back of one of our ambulances as live provisions. We found out about this stow-away when it was let out to graze while we were having one of our picnics. Being used to buying anonymous meat in supermarkets, the idea of eating a creature that I'd actuallly looked into the eye was appalling to me. At my urging, the sheep was left behind, without a doubt just to end up in someone else’s pot. When we ran out of meat somewhere along the road, the cook grumpily replaced the meat in the pilaf with apricots. It tasted delicious to me, but there were some dissenters.

We had the great privilege of staying in private homes and yurts and get a firsthand impression of how the people of the various ethnic groups that make up Kyrgyzstan actually live. Often we sat up until late into the night asking questions and listening to people's hopes, fears and aspirations now that the country had gained independence and had to stand on its own feet. Our interpreter practically was on duty 24 hours a day, making us wish we had studied Russian beyond the absolute basics. Today's travelers will have less of a language problem because many young Kyrgyz are studying English and even Japanese.

The events of 2001 and the resulting shift in allegiances in Central Asia have not bypassed Kyrgyzstan (see related article) and are apt to bring changes to the region, whether for the better or for the worse. But there is no better way to find out than to go there and see for yourself. Maybe I'll see you there someplace along the road.

Irmela Orendi Kagaya

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