e provisioned ourselves at the far end of the lake, browsing the Sunday
Market in Karakol where one can buy everything from horses ($150) and
piglets to Granny's black currant jam (yum!) and fresh red peppers (6
cents/lb). Our market bags full, we found our getaway car, an old
Soviet 4WD, and retreated to an alpine valley hideout in a place called
Altyn Arashan. At 9000 feet, this small and primitive settlement boasts
grand mountain views, glacier-fed rivers, a bounty of livestock in the
summer, and five wonderful hot springs year round. Here we were happy
to miss the crowds, sharing the valley with few others.
e spent three days exploring the area, getting lots of sleep, and
enjoying the hot springs after a long hike or on frosty mornings. As we
walked out of the valley to the town below, we often looked over our
shoulders to admire the beauty of God's awesome creation.
ur autumn experience in Kyrgystan, though funny, memorable, and blessed
with sunshine, made us realize that we missed some of the true heart of
this country by not visiting in summer. We missed the herdsmen driving
their livestock out to the jailoo, or summer pasture, staying in
yurts to tend to their livelihood. And the women, dyeing sheeps' wool
in spring to create their traditional carpets and wallcovering in bright
colors. These things and possibly the opportunity to respond to the
call of the mountains, made us want to put Kyrgystan on our "hope to
visit again" list.
o, we took our time travelling the last few days in this great country.
We moved to new villages each morning, and then spent afternoons and
evenings enjoying the local flavor and people. After spending over two
months in Russian speaking countries, we'd become fairly adept at
reading Cyrllic to determine how lost we were or to find our way around
a menu, and our vocabulary was big enough to communicate basic ideas.
We understood more than we spoke and most often got our point across.
On this particular morning, we would say our last "Dasvidanya" to the
Russian driver who arose early to take us to China.
e provisioned ourselves at the far end of the lake, browsing the Sunday
Market in Karakol where one can buy everything from horses ($150) and
piglets to Granny's black currant jam (yum!) and fresh red peppers (6
cents/lb). Our market bags full, we found our getaway car, an old
Soviet 4WD, and retreated to an alpine valley hideout in a place called
Altyn Arashan. At 9000 feet, this small and primitive settlement boasts
grand mountain views, glacier-fed rivers, a bounty of livestock in the
summer, and five wonderful hot springs year round. Here we were happy
to miss the crowds, sharing the valley with few others.
ur autumn experience in Kyrgystan, though funny, memorable, and blessed
with sunshine, made us realize that we missed some of the true heart of
this country by not visiting in summer. We missed the herdsmen driving
their livestock out to the jailoo, or summer pasture, staying in
yurts to tend to their livelihood. And the women, dyeing sheeps' wool
in spring to create their traditional carpets and wallcovering in bright
colors. These things and possibly the opportunity to respond to the
call of the mountains, made us want to put Kyrgystan on our "hope to
visit again" list.
o, we took our time travelling the last few days in this great country.
We moved to new villages each morning, and then spent afternoons and
evenings enjoying the local flavor and people. After spending over two
months in Russian speaking countries, we'd become fairly adept at
reading Cyrllic to determine how lost we were or to find our way around
a menu, and our vocabulary was big enough to communicate basic ideas.
We understood more than we spoke and most often got our point across.
On this particular morning, we would say our last "Dasvidanya" to the
Russian driver who arose early to take us to China.
