Alvaro and Michael

We made some great friends name Alvaro (from Spain) and Michael (from France) at the guest house then head out to check out some of the amazing galleries. I took photos where I could. There was an impressive variety of inspiring art. It felt good to take things a bit easier after all the nonstop travel.

Chor Bakar

We walked over to a sort of Bokhari museum, then through an amusement park, looked at the remains of the city walls and then grabbed a bus to Chor Bakar where 4 descendents of Hazrat Abu Bakar are buried. The book mistakenly says that it is Hazrat Abu Bakar himself buried there, but in reality it is 4 of his descendents. There was beautiful tilework and a mosque there besides the graves.

Naqshbandi

I woke up feeling like I had connected to home for a little bit once more, just like the time with Gulmeera and her children, it felt like we had some of the warmth that you only get from those who truly care about you.

There were plans being made to cook some more that night, and Omar and I contributed to the fund then head out. We decided to start the day by heading outside of town to the Mazaar of Khwaja Naqshbandi who started the Naqshbandi Sufi order which is credited with keeping Islam alive, albeit underground there during the Soviet era amongst other things. This again was a living tomb, unlike so many reappropriated buildings. It was stunning and unlike the tombs of kings and others who served themselves, it was well cared for and you could see new and beautiful additions by local artists who still followed the Naqshbandi Sufi Order.

We went to a bazaar across the street for a bit, before hopping on a bus with the most fun bus driver I have ever met. He had Omar and I sit up front with him, and again, though we had no common language, we enjoyed a funny conversation, and he played all kinds of Indian movie music for us. He had this great chef hat and shades on, and the way he approached his job was very laid back, and enjoying himself, while still getting things done. He'd honk and wave at all the other bus and taxi drivers he knew as he passed them, and kept an eye out for beautiful women while making sure we all got to where we were going. It was a really fun ride, and a good reminder of how people can choose to enjoy the life they live.

From there we went to the Ark which was a large fort with museums and such within. I'll let the photos speak for some of the interesting things we saw in there. From there we walked through the bazaars again, having decided to make our purchases now. We picked up some gifts for people then visited the store of a cute, but extremely tough little sales girl I had purchased some gifts from the day before. Yesterday I had offered a price and then started walking when she said no. She ran about a hundred meters up to me shouting "Mr! Mr!" and offered a lower price. By then we were at a cd shop. She kept running back and forth asking her parents and then giving me another price until I bought the gifts.

This time, Omar went in to buy some gum. He bargained with her, because as we had found prices for everything varied to an alarming degree and there was a justified feeling that people were trying to get as much as they could out of anyone in most shops, even on things like soda. So Omar countered the girl's quoted price with a more reasonable one. She stood tough. He wouldn't budge either, knowing her price was too high. She had all the expressions of shock and dismay at Omar's price as any seasoned sales person 5 times her age. It was cute and frightening at the same time.

Finally she says Mr and quotes a price. Omar just looked at her. She ripped open the gum and took out two pieces then offered the rest to Omar at the lower price. I laughed so hard wondering what this little thing was! Omar got his money back and we walked on through the amazing bazaar.We walked all over and I happened upon and amazing puppet shop. The puppets had so much intricate detail and were of such high quality. It was amazing. They were pricier than I could afford at $300 and up, but they were handcrafted works of art and it was really great to even just look at them. After that we head back and joined the gang back at Mubinjans. Sergei, our translater from the previous night had left the city, but Mubinjan managed to communicate and keep us entertained with stories nonetheless as we enjoyed another warm meal with a family of strangers.

Mubinjan

The next day we put on a short performance for the people at the guesthouse. We had a great time with the owner and her family, eating and talking the night before and they had requested that we play some for the owner's sister's birthday. We gladly did so, after a nice breakfast and then hopped on a train to Bukhara. It was still not too late once we got to Bukhara, so we found a place to stay in a simple, but beautiful old home owned by an old man named Mubinjan. We met some of the other guests and it turned out they were cooking Pilov together that night with Mubinjan. They were all travellers from different countries as well. We were graciously invited. We had limited time there so we wanted to quickly head out to see the city, but decided that we would look for some good dessert to bring back.Omar and I left our things there and head out, walking through beautiful restored Zikr khanas, mosques, tombs, caravansaras etc, but all had been transformed into giftshops. So while the original purpose of these sites had been lost, they did manage to keep the high caliber of workmanship and crafts alive through these shops. There were beautiful handicrafts, pottery, puppets, paintings, calligraphy, woodwork etc. It was all really amazing and of a very high quality. These may have been souvenir shops, but the crafts they sold were not junk like I had seen in some places. It was actually a lot of fun to look at all the beautiful work that people had on display. Besides that, we were walking through all kinds of beautiful architecture. Most of the sites in Bukhara were closer together and very near where we were staying, so we managed to see a good majority of it before making a last ditch effort to find some dessert to take back, having failed to find any traditional sweets. We walked around looking for halwa or baklava for quite a while, following all kinds of directions until we were led to a home where we met a family who were really excited to have us read the script written on a tape of a famous Afghan musician, which we did. They offered to make us halwa the next day, but there was nothing today, so instead their son showed us the way to a general store where we could buy chocolate cake.There, Omar and I bought a tray of assorted chocolate cake slices and walked back to the guest house. Everyone else had eaten and was sitting around enjoying some conversation by the time we returned. We presented the cake, and it was put to one side as they made room for a spread of food for us. The pilov was delicious. Lamb, rice, carrots, cooked to where each morsel of rice was rich with flavor. There were backpackers from France, Russia, Italy etc all sitting around a table talking and laughing and enjoying the very charismatic Mubinjan's stories as translated by Sergei, who was from Russia. Mubinjan did not speak English, but he knew a handful of words and used so much expression, body language and sounds to tell stories that captivated us all. There was a real sense that the coming together of this group of people was a special and sweet occasion. This was not a man out to make as much money as possible. He enjoyed being around giving people and enjoyed giving to all of us as well. Our experiences at other hostels or guest houses varied. There were places we made friends and places we did not, but none was like this where the owner and all the guests sat together in such warmth. I felt like we were really a part of something rare and special even for that place and it seemed everyone else did too.We talked and laughed late into the night, before everyone turned in.

Bukhari, Gulmeera and the kids

The next day, Omar and I decided to head outside of town to the tomb of Ismail Bukhari; a well known Muslim scholar credited with the most reliable compilation of the Prophet Muhammad's sayings and examples from his life (hadith).

The guide book got us to the general area where we were supposed to get a bus to the tomb. Once there it took a bit of asking and waiting and some false leads, before a very helpful boy at a general store in the area made it his purpose to get us a fair price on a minibus (mashrutka) headed to our destination. Omar and I were very grateful for the help. At last we were on our way.In front of us sat a woman with two small children. We didn't have a common language, but somehow we all became friends. She told us about how she was also going to the tomb to pray for her son who I believe had health issues while growing up. He seemed fine now, but she was going to make a prayer for his health. We all got off at the same stop, outside the tomb. The woman's name was Gul Meera and she was only a year older than me, with her sons Islam and Ismail. She had so much personality and she was so much fun, joking with us and really just willing to put in the effort to communicate with the two of us who did not speak her language. I decided in my mind that I wanted to see the tomb, but I wanted to do so with our new friends.

We walked in and had our photo taken by a guy in the courtyard. We would pick up prints later. After that, Omar asked where we could perform wadu (washing before prayer). We head over there, with Gulmeera and the kids in tow. They waited while we prepared for Namaz (prayer). Omar and I finally came out and all of us walked over to the mosque in the complex. Gulmeera held on to the little one, while Islam, Omar and I went in to pray. We stood side by side and prayed. I could see Islam out of the corner of my eye copying us, but not knowing how to say Muslim prayers. Gulmeera had mentioned that she had learned to read some Arabic when she was very young, but did not really know how to all that much. She was like many who identified very closely to Islam, but did not really know the rituals and practices, due to years under Soviet rule when all of that was forced underground and taken from people.

Omar went on to pray with the jamaat (group prayer) as it started and I stuck around with Islam and had him repeat a surat (passage from the Quran) after me. Then I taught him a few simple things and prayed some more with him following. My point wasn't to teach him religion, but just seeing him trying to participate, I wanted to take some time out and help him participate. That made it fun for me too, just so he need not feel like an outsider.

He was a really nice kid. Again, we had no common language, but gestures and a few words and sounds seemed to work well enough. He too was very patient and just a really nice kid, so it felt good to try and share something with him.

Afterwards, the three of us stepped out into the courtyard and continued around it with Gulmeera and tiny tot Ismail. He looked very serious, but was just about the cutest kid ever.

We walked around, admiring how beautiful the tile work and architecture was. Ismail Bukhari's mazaar had a very different feel than the former mosques and former places of Islamic learning that were now just empty tourist sites. This was a place still serving its intended purpose. People still remembered this man and came to pay their respects and say prayers. All of that made for a much more beautiful experience.

The work around the tomb itself was particularly stunning. After walking all the way around, we walked through a museuem of Qurans and gifts from visiting dignitaries. Gulmeera and I read some arabic together. She smiled a lot and it really felt to me like I was hanging out with a sister and nephews rather than some strangers. The kids were very sweet and we took turns holding a bag, and keeping our water bottles etc in it as I would with someone I had known for years or my own family.

We got the prints from the photographer and then walked out to catch the bus.

Gulmeera invited us to eat lunch at her home and I was very tempted, just to spend more time with these wonderful people. We also wanted to see some other important sites though, and we were limited on time, so we told her we wanted to go to the Prophet Daniel's tomb also. A part of me hesitated, because I knew it would be an ordeal to figure out how to get to it, but when else would I be there. Gulmeera just smiled and said sure, we'll go there too. She negotiated with the bus driver to take us there once the other passengers had left.

We went there, walked up the hill and spent some time in the tomb, drank some holy water and just enjoyed being there. Legend has it that the Prophet's body grows every year and so they enlarge the tomb every so often. Afterwards we head to a bazaar, and walked around until we found a spot to eat. We walked around some neighborhoods looking for the Jewish quarter, happened upon some interesting buildings that may have been a part of it and then walked back to the bazaar. The whole time, Gulmeera and the kids were happily along for the adventure. Islam was borrowing my camera and taking photos, I was hangin' with Ismail and it was some of the most fun I had on the trip.

Back in the bazaar we walked around and found a place to eat. We played some music, ate some food, laughed, ate some more and then walked outside where we soon parted ways, all of us a bit sad at leaving.

Omar and I made our way back to the art place where we had met some painters the day before. We had promised to try and return with some music and I was supposed to check out one budding animaters drawings. So we came in with Omar's drumb, got some people out, including many passerbyes and played some songs. I met up with the boy and he gave me a photocopy with a bunch of drawings. He was obviously talented and it was fun to see his work.

From there we head back to the guest house where we played music some more for the owner and her family before going to bed.

Samarkand

The next morning, we said goodbye to Simone and head to the train station to go to Samarkand. We met a guy while we were waiting, who kept miming that he had been electrocuted and was crazy, but was very happy that we were Muslims. That was fun, if a bit odd. The train itself was pretty good compared to a lot of transportation we have used on this trip. It was easy enough to get to Samarkand. Once at the station we hopped in a taxi and made our way to a beautiful guesthouse called Antika. There was a large open courtyard with grapes, apples and other fruit growing on a canopy over some tables. We dropped our things off and head out to get some more cash. Walking around, the city had a different feel than Tashkent. Just down the lane from the guest house was an amazing mausoleum and plenty of restored historical buildings. It was great to see that the buildings are restored, but mostly they no longer serve the intended purpose. In that way there is a disconnect between people and history. It's sad to see at times, but it is amazing to see the crafts and arts kept alive. The quality of wood work, tiles, architecture, miniature paintings etc. Uzbekistan has so many souvenir shops, many in these amazing historical buildings, but the good part of it is the quality of items sold there.After much wandering and getting lost, we made our way home and got some sleep.

Yongiabad Bazaar

 

 

The next day we decided to head out to a flea market called Yongiabad Bazaar with a friend we made at the hostel from Switzerland, named Simone. He'd been traveling for a while and was in the final days of the current trip also. We grabbed a bus to a tram to some walking, to some confusion, to another bus and finally reached the market. We were first greeted by some friendly militsiya (police) who introduced us to some more militsiya. They took a while, and we asked if there was a problem and they realized there was not and let us move on. The market itself was full of all kinds of..well junk and a few other things here and there. Machine parts, clothes, animals, books, old cameras, decorations and all kinds of random second hand stuff. We explored for a while, before heading across town to Khost Imom, where there is a mosque called Telyashayakh Mosque, and the Moyie Mubarek Library Museum (housing one of the oldest Qurans in the world). The architecture around there was amazing, but it was all empty. A guard said he would let us in to see the Quran in the museum, but demanded a bunch of money for it. They even called some kind of caretaker there, who offered to take us, but wanted a bunch of money. We agreed to pay them if there was a physical ticket. There was none, so we walked out. There was a mausoleum in the back that still seemed to be used for the intended purpose. After looking around a bit more walked down to Chorsu Bazaar and grabbed some food. There was an upper, open level in a building at the bazaar with all kinds of food vendors. One area in it was an open room with tables, and outside it there was a man grilling shashlyk. We picked up some vegetables to go with the shashlyk and asked if he could grill them. He could not. So I went inside the dining area, asked for a knife and started chopping vegetables. A lady who worked there saw this and offered to chop them for me.

Simone and Omar returned with some soda and nan. The lady returned with a beautifully chopped and seasoned salad. After lunch we walked down the street to a fast food place to just sit and drink some coffee etc. The place was like a nicer version of an American fast food place. From there we caught the metro, with Simone leaving for a Central Asian film festival and Omar and I heading back to the guest house. We got back and hung out downstairs, playing some music and talking to the security guy named Alex and another traveller named Murat. We didn't share much language between us, but it was pretty amazing to watch Omar tirelessly communicate until after a few songs they themselves were making huge efforts to explain simple things across the language barrier. I was tired and mostly just sat back and watched as Omar learned some more words to a Russian song his friend Constantine used to play.

It was really interesting watching Murat and Alex go from being very quiet, to gesturing and using bits of words to explain the deeper meaning of the song and its pronounciation and how it was sang.

A few hours later Simone returned and told us about his experience at the festival. First he had to convince the ticket seller that this film existed. Then he got the ticket and had to convince the theatre person that it existed, before finally being led to an empty theatre. He convinced the projectionist that yes he did want to see the film even though he was the only one there and that though he did not understand the language he still wanted to watch. Half an hour through the film, the projectionist came down to see if Simone was still awake and asked if he really wanted to watch the whole thing. Simone did, but the rickety dvd started skipping and after many failed attempts he had to stop without ever finding out how this coming of age Soviet era story ended. He told us that the projectionist was a strong communist supporter, who had been in that job for over 30 years. He walked Simone to the metro, giving him advice on where he should go and what not to miss in Tashkent. After all that bizarreness it was time to sleep.

Tashkent Day 2

So we went out again, finally got a little cash, ate some food at last (thankful for the complimentary breakfast at the hostel) and all of that in a day. We had a longer meeting with our friends in the metro as well as many other chats along the way. In fact, by the time we were riding back towards the hostel, we actually recognized some of the new friends in uniform we had met during the day. We went to an internet cafe and then decided to call it a day, early around 7pm, because it gets a bit tiring being always being careful not to photograph any kind of security buildings..especially when you don't read Russian. That's why there aren't that many pictures.

How do I get cash in Tashkent?!

Andy, Omar and I grabbed some food, while Mike stayed to let us back in. We shared a final breakfast together at Andy's friend's kitchen table before Omar and I jumped in a taxi and head to the airport. I packed away my camera stuff because of all the strict regulations and not wanting any trouble. We got there early, hung out for a while, then flew out on a quick hour long flight to Tashkent. Once in the country, we saw many Pakistanis at the airport, arriving on a flight from Lahore. Once through customs, we hopped in a cab after negotiating a price. The guy thought it was funny to try and double it on the way. I opened the door and threatened to get out, and he quietened a little. We got to the place and he did try one final time to squeeze some extra money out of us. I just handed him what we had agreed and left it at that.

The hostel owner greeted Omar and I with some Urdu. Unfortunately, after the usual Muslim jokes, all he could muster was a lot of cursing, asking if we wanted to do all kinds of idiotic things that we had no interest in as some kind of a joke. It is a pleasure to be looked down upon for your race and the unfounded (as in equally applicable to anyone else) prejudices linked by people to it. Even better to hear all kinds of dirty talk from some old drunk guy with a daughter and wife who should know better. Luckily, the place was comfortable, clean and cheap. On top of that the wife and daughter are very nice and seem to run the place, while the guy just sits around with his old buddies getting drunk all day. All in all, one of the better places we have stayed at.

From there we set out to find an ATM. 8 hours of walking from one to the next and finding them all empty all over town, exhausted us physically and mentally. The saving grace was the kindness of people. Seriously, we have met so many wonderful people on this trip, but the way people tried to help us out here in Tashkent is really amazing. For every annoying jerk we meet, there are tons more warm people who go out of their way to help us, and that I think is the lesson to learn from.

I had limited cash that I exchanged from the airport, but didn't want to run out, so we just walked and walked. Along the way, we met bank staff who called around to help point the way. This is apparently a big problem in Uzbekistan. The currency is valued at about 1,329 Uzbek Som to 1 US dollar, so people have wads of cash, but very little money. That and the fact that atms are almost immediatly emptied makes it very hard to get cash.

At one bank, we met a wonderful lady who walked us up to an office where we met a kind man who had learned English as he said from John Lennon and Mick Jagger. I knew he was cool even before he handed us cookies when we asked for a business card and he had run out.

It is a treat to meet such great people, with so much charm and charisma. Even though we felt miserable, hungry and exhausted at trying so hard to find cash and failing, the city is beautiful with mosaics along the sides of buildings, and amazing architecture all over and more kindness from everyday people than we have run across before, and most of the other cities were very generous and kind also.

The metros are absolutely amazing. Each terminal has a unique design. One had amazing paintings of cosmonauts and the space program. Others had beautiful tiles, or vaulted ceilings with flower designs, or sculptures in the walls etc.

Unfortunately we could not photograph any of these. Each metro station is a work of art.Along the way we were stopped for our papers many many many times, but at least they were friendly and polite. Still after a while it does make a person feel like some kind of criminal, and what felt like harmless looks by people before starts to feel less so. It's not a new situation, but it was fun in Xinjiang, China to not feel like that, at least part of the time we were there.

How to go from Bishkek to Tashkent

Happy Independence day Pakistan! So, what did I do to celebrate? Well...I got a mean headache, and felt real weak. I felt so exhausted, I could not even think about doing the drive from Bishkek to Osh, stay the night, then hire another car to the border of Uzbekistan and another on the opposite side to Tashkent. I felt like I had been on far too many rides, haggling and being cheated or worrying about what some jerk keeps in his car door or worse passenger door to make it look like it is ours or who decides to throw stuff through the window at night. So, Omar and I decided to just fly to Bishkek for about $150 more.

This is a vacation after all. We spent the day figuring out the logistics of all our travel plans, then bought or changed tickets. The four of us were exhausted as we shared a final dinner together on this trip at a place called NY Pizza. The pizza was very good and we were all grateful that we had each other to make this trip possible. I went to bed early that night.

Fun at the Osh Bazar

 

In the morning we got up and head down the street to a more modestly priced restaurant than we had seen before. It was upstairs and there was a recording of verses from the Quran being recited over the speakers (kirat). The place had a really calm and peaceful atmosphere. The family that ran it was very friendly. They led us to the kitchen and out back when we had trouble communicating ingredients for an omlette. The food was some of the best I have had in Kyrgyzstan. Afterwards, we head to an internet cafe where the guys had to tend to matters back home.

I uploaded some more blog stuff, then just hung out. Eventually Omar and I went to the Osh bazaar. It was okay, like many other bazaars we had seen, but the police were extra friendly. A pair of them called us over, then checked our documents, before introducing us to a group of their buddies working diligently on nothing to one side of the road, definitely not goofing off or anything. Likewise, we figured we should return the favor by going through all our belongings with them and then Omar stared at the mysteriously palmed 100 som note the one guy had held on to for safe keeping before he returned it. This happens all the time in Osh bazaar according to Lonely Planet. We expected it to occur far more often all over, but thankfully that was the only place and time during our stay in Kyrgyzstan.

After all that fun, we decided to walk back and wait for our other friends who aren't as polite about holding money for us. That evening we met up with some friends of Andy's who were very sweet to come hang out with us. We ate some delicious food together and called it a night.

Lake Issyk-Kol day 2

  

We woke up in the home that Gulbubu had found us a room in. The guys slowly got out of bed and we played some music for the family. The kids started dancing and it was a lot of fun just watching the funny things they did as we sang. Gulbubu kept explaining things to us in Russian and some of the grade school children who knew some English tried to translate bits of it. Either way, she had such a sweet and friendly laugh, like one of my aunts. She was so warm and sweet to us, that even after trying very hard to explain something to us, and then just receiving a blank look with no understanding from us, she would start laughing and try some more. It was a little sad saying goodbye to these sweet people, but I did record some video of something Gulbubu was trying to tell me. I'll try and find someone to translate it for me. Enjoy this video of our biggest fan, dancing away. Watch as her assistant comes in during the clip.

After that, we grabbed some food, played for the people in the restaurant then walked over to the beach and enjoyed a quick dip in the super cold water. The beach had some rides in an amusement park and typical fair type game stalls and food vendors. There was a weird pizza guy selling gross looking pizzas out of a box who didn't seem to take a hint or like it when I mimed that his pizza looked like barf. But he left eventually and so did we, catching a bus leaving for Bishkek. We played lots of music on the way back in the bus, and got here around evening. We head to the internet cafe, then barely made it back to the hostel for some beds that were not gauranteed. So plenty of stress later, we slept in our many times slept in by others beds, and enjoyed the sweet scent of stranger's sweat (one of many times) as we fell asleep.

off to Lake Issyk-Kol, Bollywood in Kyrgyzstan

The next morning we woke up, cleaned up a little and with the help of Andy's friend head over to the train station to get tickets to Lake Issyk-Kol. The lake is a scenic tourist spot, for locals as well as foreigners. After navigating several lines we were turned away to other lines, met a line cutter I dubbed "the Buzzard", then found out that the one and only train there was at 6am. Many friendly taxi drivers approached us repeatedly offering to drive us there for a princely sum. We declined, and one asked for Asel's phone number. I was sad that none of them took notice of me. We thanked Andy's friend Asel, and head over to grab a minibus (or as they call it, auctobus) to the bus station.Once there we got a price that seemed high, so we went the hostel we stayed at, a couple blocks from the bus station, sat down and played some music as we waited for a man there who offered a driver service. Twenty minutes, and twenty more minutes and then many more minutes later, we all ate, found out the bus was the better deal and head out to it once again. We had to wait for the bus to fill up with passengers before it would leave, so Andy and Omar decided to pull out their instruments and help the conductor get people on the bus. I joined after a while and we sang a whole bunch of songs and got a crowd around us. We even managed to make some ice cream money thanks to the generous donations of our audience into Omar's hat.Finally, after a very long time, we all boarded the bus, ice cream in our bellies and started down to the lake. I fell asleep, a bunch of times until we reached Bosteria, a popular section along the huge lake. We stepped out and there were people walking all over, returning from the beach, walking up and down the streets. We grabbed some food at a restaurant, found out the places to sleep on that section of the lake were very expensive, then started walking back to the main road to search for a better option.Along the way we saw an old man playing an accordian beautifully. We sat down and started playing music together. A crowd gathered, the sun started to go down, we had no place to sleep but we were having too much fun to care. He played a bunch of different songs, including an old Hindi movie song "Juta maira Japani, patloon hai Englistani, topi Turkistani par dil hai Hindustani." While we were playing we befriended a lady at a stall next door and some random drunk guy who kept trying to speak to us (like a small child speaking gibberish that sounds like sentences). We explained to the lady that we were looking for a place to sleep. She was really friendly and though we shared no common language, we started walking with her and so did the gibberish guy. She had really enjoyed a Junoon song we played called "Saeen". She turned out to be Muslim as well and as we walked we explained to her "Nyet Vodka" "Mussalman" etc and got away from the gibberish guy and ended up renting a room with her family for the night.

Al-Archa

 

 

We woke up and head out of the hostel to Andy's friend's place. She had very graciously offered to let us stay in her apartment. She seemed worried that the place would be too small, but I don't think she'd seen most of the places we have stayed at. Anyway, it always feels so much better to stay in a place where there is the warmth of friends. So we dropped our things off and head out to meet up with a few Turkish guy that Omar and Mike had met the previous day.Ali showed up at the bus station for us. He took us to a Turkish restaurant, and invited his friend Yusuf to join us. We ate some amazing Turkish food and got to know each other a bit better. We decided to go to Al-Archa where there was a beautiful canyon and river. It took us a while to figure it all out, but Ali was tired apparently from a long night of video games, so Yusuf who spoke English, joined us in a cab and the rest of us squeezed in the back seat. After about an hour or so we reached the outer gate and were convinced that we should walk the rest of the way.So, we started walking along a road for a bit, then Yusuf ran back to get the taxi to come take us the rest of the way. Reluctantly, the cab took us up to the river. We sat down next to it, relaxed and started playing some music. There was a Kyrgyz family having a picnic close by. The children came to check us out, then the grandfather came by and invited us to join them. We sat down at their picnic and they shared their food with us and we played more music. Some other people nearby came with cameras and there was a bit of a crowd there with young and old. It was so much fun playing for them. I don't really care much about singing for everyone in LA. I mean, it is fun, but I don't care for attention and there's shyness too when you're put on the spot in a group, but here with my friends playing music is a joy. Just like when I did it with friends back in high school, it was never about attention. To play music to people here is fun because there is a real sweetness that we share with people when we connect that way, across language and cultures. In many ways, to me it feels like we are saying thanks for being so nice or in other situations, just breaking down that barrier between being consumers on this trip and getting a bit more connected just as people.After a while, we parted ways, head back to the taxi and drove back to the Turkish restaurant. The cab guy wanted to charge us extra again, and we were all sick of getting overcharged by people, so we refused. We could tell that Yusuf was going to pay the guy to avoid any issues, and more than not wanting to pay the jerk, we didn't want Yusuf to pay him, so we paid the extra 100 som and walked back toward the restaurant. Omar and Andy sat down on the steps to play some music, Mike went off to use the restroom, and I walked down a couple stores to get over that annoyance. As I was walking, I heard some men speaking in Urdu. I turned and saw a group of men sitting at a table in front of a burger joint. I introduced myself and asked if they were from Pakistan. They were and invited me to sit with them. A few moments later so ice cream was brought out and I was offered one. I wasn't about to leave after that. I explained that the music they heard in the distance was from my other friends. We talked a bit and I shared some stories from our travels and they shared their stories as well. One man was visiting and the others all worked in Bishkek for a number of years. The ice cream was great and so was the company. Omar, Andy and Mike came looking for me and found me there at the table. The too were invited to join. So we put some tables together and sat down. They even placed an order at the Pakistani owned fast food place which does not serve Pakistani food, for some Pakistani food. Apparently the group hangs our there every day and they have the restaurant cook up some Pakistani dishes for them. Usually on this day they go out for a hike, but as our luck would have it, they didn't go today and so we were lucky enough to meet them.We sat for hours talking, playing songs, then eating, and talking and singing some more. Another wonderful experience with music.Afterwards, we head back to Andy's friend's place, gave her a run down of the day's adventures and went to sleep.

In Bishkek at last!

 

The next morning around 6:30am or 7am, we reach Bishkek and a hostel that had been recommended in Osh. It was very quiet and hardly any people were on the streets as we paid the driver the balance of what we owed and some money to help him with his windshield, not that it was our fault, but because it seemed like the right thing to do to Omar and I. We were all really annoyed by all that had happened, and just glad to be there at last. It felt like we had gone from misery at travel the night before, to really enjoying the day in Osh, to more miserable travel at the last night getting from Osh to Bishkek.The hostel was a house with some tents and yurts in the backyard. The staff was busily preparing food for the wedding of the two owners which was taking place that evening. We got information to take Andy to the hospital, and planned to but he decided not to at this time. Again some guy tried to tell us that we should have jumped out of the car and beat the guy up. He told us about a fight he had got into with some guy who said something to him while he was walking down the street and then a photo of a huge gash he got in his head as a result as proof of why we should have gotten into a fight. While his reasoning seemed sound, we decided his advice probably wasn't worth taking. There are a lot of macho jack asses in the world who put ego before the safety of those around them as well as their own well being. Mike, Andy, Omar and I grabbed some breakfast, then Mike and Andy returned to the hostel for some sleep. Andy and I decided to check out the town and sleep at night instead. We walked around, checked out a mosque, made our way toward the center of the city, and met of with a friend of Andy's from Kyrgyzstan. She took us around to a museuem of Soviet history, with statues of Lenin and many major occurences during his time. It was all pretty sad, until we got to the top floor that was focused on Kyrgyz cultre which was similar to Mongolia and very beautiful. The people at the stores on the first floor were really nice. One lady had me sit down once she learned I was an artist and asked me to make something on a piece of cloth. I drew some flowers on it and signed and gave it to her.We checked out some art in a park just before that also, and walked around an amusement park, ate some good food, then parted ways and returned to the hostel.I finally took a shower, and sat for a bit as we waited for Mike and Omar who had gone out while we were away, to return. They came back and we met up with Andy's friend and another friend of hers again for some dinner. She and her friend were so kind to us, that it really made us feel at home. For all the rough travel and some negative experience during the trip, it is all these beautiful places and even more important the kind people we meet along the way that makes it all worth while.After dinner we grabbed a taxi back to the hostel and got some sleep.

To Bishkek!

 The next day we woke up and paid for our room. After we talked to the guest house people about arranging for a car to Bishkek (Kyrgyzstan's capital). They called back and said a car would be there in 30-40 minutes, so Mike and I walked over to pick up some food as Omar and Andy sat with the bags in the apartment complex courtyard and played music with a few kids as the start of the audience sitting on a bench across from them.We picked up some food to go, and again everyone we ran into as the day before was so kind and polite and went out of their way to help us communicate and make us feel welcome. We came back with food and saw that the crowd had grown significantly. There were children dancing happily, and some adults standing around, smiling, including the owner of the apartment we stayed in, who was smiling by the door of the building as Andy and Mike played. I sang a little and we wrapped up with the kids playing around with the instruments a bit. A Pakistani and an Indian medical student who were roommates had come by and joined the crowd while Mike and I were purchasing food. I talked to both and they were very friendly, inviting us to come eat with them and telling us lots of invaluable information about the area. We would have loved to join them, but were just about to leave the city. Perhaps we will see them on the way back. I've met so many nice peopel travelling like this, and getting email addresses etc along the way.Our car arrived and we loaded up, then drove off. Along the way we took out our nan and kabobs to get some food in us, as beautiful mountains streamed past. Things were looking good. The car was fast, the road was good and the scenery, as usual, beautiful. After a while, the car started to stutter. We kept making stops at the side of the road, eating with some British travelers, getting to know our driver through our limited communication, listening to tapes. Several times we stopped and just walked around until the car got settled down a bit, until we reached an autoshop run by children on the side of the road. We stayed there for many hours as they went to get some clean gasoline, then drained the contaminated gasoline and refilled it. We played music and made friends with the kids who worked there. The river water there was very clean and good. By now it was night and we were far behind in getting to Bishkek. It seemed at this point that we weren't destined to have much luck with transport on this trip. Still, we were very grateful that it was much better than the horrible ride from the border into Osh, so everyone was patient and in good spirits. It was dark by the time we got back on the road. We passed more rock, and went through a very long tunnel, as we all tried in vain to sleep. Suddenly I heard a loud crash and a 7-8 inch piece of concrete fell next to my foot in the back seat. Andy told the driver to keep going, and we got out of there quick. At first I thought a rock had dropped from above, but noticed that we were surrounded by trees. We drove a ways from where the rock had smashed through the windshield then stopped to assess the situation. It turned out that Andy opened his eyes, just in time to see a 20 or so year old man throw the rock into the windshield from the side of the road. He barely moved out of the way and the rock scraped his hand and the side of his head. All of us were covered in fragments of the windshield. We checked Andy out. It was dark everywhere. The driver called another car and decided he wanted to go back. Andy had said to keep going at the time because we had no idea if there were more people waiting in the dark or if this guy had some other kind of weapons. The driver drove back to find this guy with us in tow. As we reached there, another man had already grabbed a kid who seemed to fit the description. There really wasn't anyone else out at that time, so it seemed likely that he was the culprit. He even had the same color red shirt that Andy had seen, but he could not be absolutely certain and we could not accuse someone not knowing for certain. So we let the kid go and the two men (our driver and the other car driver who had turned up to help) communicated to us in gestures that they thought we should have jumped out of the car and beat the guy down. Sound logic in a pitch dark place, where we don't speak the language and the law can't be trusted any more than the bandits who roam about at night. We drove on down the street, not quite understanding what they were all saying. At a row of roadside stalls in the dark, our driver picked up some tape to cover up the gaping hole in the windshield that Andy had been covering up with a cloth propped up by his feet to try and keep sand like glass from getting into our eyes. Meanwhile a brawl was taking place a few stalls down from us and a bunch of cars pulled up around us. Our driver didn't seem worried, but we all felt we needed to be cautious. I found some odd things in the car, so we all tossed them out at the next spot we stopped at as our driver taped up the windshield unaware of us.From there the ride was tense and silent in the dark.

Osh: Welcome to Kyrgyzstan

 

No one could sleep or sit still, or relax for the entire ride. Finally, we reached Osh at about 6:20AM. Plat wanted his money right away and we explained that we needed to check into a hotel first. We hunted around for one, and he got us close by but then just panicked instead of being of any help. Of course he was extremly exhuasted and paranoid about whether he would be paid. I felt bad for him, but I was also pretty mad that he refused to listen to us or communicate his thoughts in an efficient way so we could listen to him properly. Language barrier or not, he really didn't make it any easier on us. Still, I tried to set his mind at ease and explain what we were doing each step of the way, looking for the guest house. No one would let us call, whether because it was not possible or it was expensive to them I do not know. Finally, we met an excited woman who worked for a restaurant there that was just starting to prepare for the day. Her name was Sonia, and she head all her front teeth in gold, as we would find many people in Osh have. She walked around with Andy and I to find the Osh Guesthouse. The directions in the book started at a trash heap and went to one of the apartment buildings in the vicinity. So we walked around in the early hours of the day. Sonia asked some people questions in Russian, but no one knew. Finally I found a sign, and from there eventually the trash heap. She called the place and we met Ali, who told us they were full but kindly started calling around to find another place to stay. These places are basically apartments that people own and rent out to guests as added income. He walked back with us to the car and explained the situation to Plat as we awaited a call from one of his associates regarding a room. Plat apparently was cursing and said some nasty things to Ali, who calmly related this to me in English (not the actual cursing, just the situation). He told us Sonia requested some money for her help, so we gave her a dollar and she told us to come back to te restuarant. I think the money was for phone use, which may be very expensive in Kyrgyzstan. I'm not sure yet.Finally we somewhat calmed Plat down long enough to pay him, get our things and thankfully bid him farewell. It's no wonder we didn't take him up on his offer to take us further to Bishkek the next day. No thanks.Ali on the other hand was very calm and sincere in helping us. This was his business, but unlike many people we had met, he knew how to conduct his business in a manner that made you want to come back. The city had not quite awakened yet, and it felt pretty uncomfortable after that nasty entry into the country. Ali introduced us to an apartment owner how was just finishing cleaning up the place for our use. There was no electricity yet as it was turned off every night and then came back in the morning. We were very grateful and they were very relaxed about the fact that we would change money and pay them later. So got the key and collapsed on the beds for a few hours. I awoke a while later, and took a cold shower and woke the guys up so we could see the city some before leaving the next day as we planned. With the sun up and some rest it seemed a lot more pleasant.We went back to Sonia's restaurant for some food. There were all kinds of kababs, and we figured out what was what by making animal noises. Sonia was hilarious and more than happy to help us non-Russian speakers. After some food, Andy tried contacting his friend's friend in Osh, then we walked down the street through a bazaar, looking around until we got to Soloman's Throne, which is a rock hill with a small room on top. We played some music at the base and more than made our admission money back. Omar, as a joke opened up his drum case and people put money in as we played. After a few songs we said thanks to the people and walked up the stairs to the top. My legs sort of quivered by the time I reached the top. Too much tiredness. The view of Osh was very beautiful. In the room there was an old Muslim man speaking in Russian. Along the way to the top there were rags tied to trees. Local people believe that the Prophet Mohammad prayed here once, though I have never heard of him travelling here. Expecting mothers tie rags in hopes of improving their fertility as some say the hill has the shape of a reclining pregnant woman (I didn't notice that). Afterwards we walked back down and checked out a 3 story yurt which was a museum of folk crafts and traditional Kyrgyz clothing. There were beautiful wall hangings made of felt and some musical instruments and other interesting crafts. From there we crossed the street and entered a place called the Art Faculty. All the rooms were closed inside, except one where I found two people with a sound mixer and computer. I asked if they were musicians (mausikaar) and they nodded, so of course we sat down and played music with them for a bunch of hours, before heading out to dinner with the pair. They were both music teachers there, and we had a lot of fun playing music and acting things out to communicate outside of that. At dinner we laughed a lot and talked, before heading to an internet cafe. One of the guys at the internet cafe wanted to communicate to me so we talked a bit using google translate to go from Russian to English and back again. The electricity went out (as it does at that time every day in Osh), so we took a taxi back to the hotel. I don't think it is safe to be out at night, particularly as we don't speak the language, and it is very dark all around, so we went back and slept.

Goodbye China!

The next day we grabbed food at the same Pakistani place as the night before. The lady who ran the place was Uighar. She told us about how she loved Pakistani food, and had learned to cook it on a few trips to Pakistan. She said it made her eat more and that it was more interesting to her than Uigher food which had less variety.After eating, we head to the bus station to check on tickets to Kyrgyzstan. I waited in the car as Andy and Omar went in to check times and prices. The taxi driver misunderstood and thought we were dropping them off and driving to the next hotel, so we went off and I had to keep explaining that we needed to wait and then go back...so a few blocks later, we started driving back, looping around to a place we could turn around. In the meantime, Andy and Omar thought I was kidnapped by the driver and I could see them in the distance looking around the parking area. Finally the taxi came back around, we picked them up and moved on to Chini Bagh, where the travel agent's office was.At CITS travel agency we sat down to figure out passage to Kyrgyzstan and get a refund on part of our previous trip. It turned out we could leave that day in about 10 minutes. The timings were limited due to the hours that the border was open. So we had barely enough time to set out immediatly by car and reach the border in time to get across, then jump into another car that was waiting for us on the Kyrgyzstan side and travel through rugged country to get to Osh. We went through all the details as quickly as possible, with the travel agent using additional staff who spoke the appropriate languages to make arrangements with a travel agency in Kyrgyzstan for that side of the trip. We were in luck (or so we thought) and a driver was already in the area to take us on from the Kyrgyzstan border to Osh. Along the way we were told we would have to hitch a ride with a truck across the 8km between both borders.In the middle of all of that Mike arrived, making it possible for us to leave immediatly. We thought he was arriving that night, so it was kind of surreal to see him walk right in as we were discussing plans for Kyrgyzstan. He'd just come off a rough ride to get to Kashghar and had not eaten since lunch the day before, but he too was ready to get out of China.So Andy and he ran off to do some last minute things, Omar went to get some water and snacks for all of us, and I sat waiting for our driver. It turned out to be Mr. Ling, who had taken us to Kashturgan.This time with Mike in tow, we could communicate using his Chinese language skills. Mr. Ling was far more talkative as we sped toward the border. Along the way we stopped for gas, and all of us had to get out of the car outside the gas station before the car was allowed to enter with only the driver. Security checkpoint after checkpoint we were checked and let to pass. Finally we made it to the Chinese side of the border, filled our departure cards, paid the fees, had our passports stamped and luggage checked. The staff was much more at ease at the border. They examined us closely, but were far friendlier than the rest of the checkpoints before, where there was obviously a great deal of tension. So crossed several more Chinese checkpoints, performing some music for some of the soldiers at their request. That made them pretty happy, and one was kind enough to ask a crossing truck to take us through the middle stretch across to the Kyrgyzstan border. We hopped in a truck with an Uzbek driver of a double trailered truck, traveling at about 5 miles an hour over unpaved road. He was very friendly and we pulled out our instruments and performed a few songs including an Uzbek song that Andy knew to entertain each other across the way.We thanked him once we reached the Kyrgyz checkpoint after a few more Chinese checkpoints, and meeting some of his friends along the way and passing scores of huge trucks waiting to enter China. I didn't take any pictures of any of this due to security reasons..as in securing myself from getting beat by the friendly border folks!At the Kyrgyz checkpoint we went through the usual questions and scrutiny, before meeting our driver, Plat on the other side. He strapped our heavy bags to the top of his old Russian jeep, and we started down the unpaved road in Kyrgyzstan. The driving was slow, but intense. Sometimes we would go off on dirt side roads, away from the stone filled main road from the Kyrgyzstan border. It is known as one of the worst roads in the country...which seems odd as it is an important trade route into China. At times the car would speed up and we'd avoid potholes and smack right into others. Our driver seemed pretty funny, as we tried to communicate with his limited English and our even more limited Russian. He was retired from the Russian Military and drove for a living now.There was some kind of deal to stay the night at some overpriced place along the way that the travel agency had relations with, so we refused to pay 8 times the cost. We had also requested to go straight to Osh, so the confusion now became more and more annoying. I don't think our driver, Plat was at fault for this, but he really did not seem to have ever taken anyone from the border before. He was confused and thrown off by misinformation that we would stay at the over priced (8x what it should have been) tourist trap along the barren road into Kyrgyzstan. The mountains around were beautiful. It was red and dusty, with bits of green all over, as we bumped and swerved and jumped along the road.Plat would at times insist that we stop somewhere and at other times insist that we keep going to Osh. He was a thin, older man and in any case this was an insanely intense drive, so we didn't want him to have to drive all the way through, but he wouldn't communicate to us properly about our options either. It was, stay in the tourist trap or drive all the way through. He would get very frustrated and annoyed, and not really try and communicate his thoughts properly. The sun went down and it was darkness everywhere. We had no Kyrgyz currency as we had not stopped anywhere we could change it. At last, late into the night we stopped for food and Plat filled up on some coffee. He paid for the meal, which we agreed to pay him back for in dollars.As we drove, he became afraid that we would not pay him at times, or he would change his mind about sleeping and then stop somewhere, only to argue that we had to continue due to safety issues. I know this drive was torture for him and also for us, though he had the advantage of understanding the language, and we had the advantage of not destroying our arms yanking the steering wheel from big pot hole to little pothole, to side of road, up and down inclines, stopping to cool down the engine etc along the way.This was without a doubt the worst ride we had been on, and during this trip we've had some really tough ones.

Back to Kashghar?

The next day we learned the pass was closed and that we would not be able to go up to it. We were all devastated. The mood of the city changed. The morning we had left Kashghar we learned there had been a bombing at a police station. As usual in China, there were many checkpoints along the way, but the morning we awoke in Tashkurgan, it really felt like things had soured. There was a lot of tension in the air. We ate with the Pakistanis again, learned about the current situation as security people intensified their scrutiny. The police had come by as we played at the hotel the night before, though the people at the hotel said not to worry. It was routine for them to charge in sirens blaring to check the guest registry, or check up on retaurant books to see who and when they got eggs, vegetables, meat and other supplies from.We walked around ruins of an old castle and enjoyed a beautiful view, and the local bazaar before deciding to start heading back. Out tour guide at CITS was not able to provide any alternate destinations. I asked about local handicrafts, but she really didn't care. They just seemed to want us to go to all the overpriced tourist traps that they had special deals with. All of this with the tense atmosphere combined to make us all feel a bit miserable. We were in one of the most beautiful spots on the planet, but due to some people it was really maddening. We stopped at a beautiful lake, and refused to over pay for nasty food or tourist trap prices. We left i disgust, visited a hot spring, that had been turned into a bath house, then left after looking at it for bit. Too much bad salesmanship, and people not trying to communicate, but just take you for what you are worth to them and all this bureaucratic nonsense can turn a person sour quick.Mr. Ling seemed confused, but took us slowly back. We stopped at the stone work tables and I was in thr process of bartering my boots for a traditional jacket (the guy had gone to get his jacket so I could see it), but Mr. Ling insisted we leave. The tour lady called a bunch of times on his cel phone, but she just wanted to go to more tourist traps and they refused to let us visit regular people.We decided to end the trip and just go back to Kashghar. It just felt like it was time to get out of China, withe the Olympics and even more heightened image conscious paranoia and terrorist threats only days away.Along the way, Mr. Ling I think sensing some of what we were about stopped at a Yurt where we ate some bread, drank tea and put on a music show in a beautifully decorated Kyrgyz home. The family crowded into the door and we all had a good time, though the songs felt tired as we played. It felt like our hearts had been ripped out and we just wanted to leave China. The people were very sweet and it was great to share music with them. One lady pulled out a mouth harp like Andy had. She joked that his was no good and played us some beautiful music on hers. One of the girls danced while we played. They showed us a photo that some other American tourists had taken with them and sent back. We took photos with them and I met some of the little ones outside before we left. It was a long ride back to Kashghar. The feel at the checkpoints was much more intense.We got back into Kashghar, and got a room at the Semens hotel where many Pakistanis stay. The hotel was beautiful with a lot of Uigher cultural decorations in the lobby, but like most places, the rooms were not good. There was a tv, with no power outlet (not that we were going to watch it), the fan burned out, the toilet needed to be repaired and was just as we were going to bed. It was a bad hotel for the price, but another interesting experience. We ate some Pakistani food at another cafe near by, before going to sleep.

To Tashkurgan!

The next day we jumped in a car with our driver Mr. Ling, to head out to Tashkurgan, a border town on the way to the Khunjra Pass to Pakistan. We had obtained permission to go up to it, and were very excited to see it.As we left Kashghar, we stopped at a small dusty town along the way. Mr. Ling pointed us to a bazaar, so Omar took his drum and Andy his Rabab and we walked over to it. It was a lot less built up than the one in Kashghar. It had tents instead of concrete shops and it was definately not geared to tourists. I went to a stall to buy a notebook and pen, meanwhile a bunch of people seeing the intruments asked Omar and Andy to play. Before they knew it, old women and pulle dout little chairs for them and they started playing as a very large crowd formed in front of the stationary stall. I joined them and we sang a couple of songs, as the crowd surged, pushing a little to see what it was all about. It was a pretty amazing experience, but we wanted to move on quick as we had attracted a very large crowd. People were very friendly, and appreciative. They made sure we didn't leave any stuff behind and thanked us as we took off back to the car, running into a bus of Pakistanis and on down the road.The scenery changed rapidly and we could see huge mountains in the distance. We stopped at a tourist shop along the way, where I finally found some intricate traditional Uigher clothing. It was very beautiful with intricate needlework. Apparently that type of clothing is not too common any more. It is made by families for themselves and sometimes for shops like that one. We moved on and stopped at a line of tables with stone work. Vendors ran out to call us over to their tables. I walked along, largely ignoring the over anxious sales people. Finally, before leaving we decided to play some songs. That completely changed the feel of it all. From being annoying sales people, to the sweetest crowd we have every played for in a matter of moments. Little kids, mothers and people of all ages came to see from the yurts across the street. It was such a pleasure to share some music. The crowd made room for some men to dance a bit. It was pretty unbelievable.We head on down towards Tashkurgan stopping along the way to admire the magnificent landscape.Eventually we reached Tashkurgen, checked into a hotel, only to check out very annoyed at the staff trying to double the price and that too with no running water and all kinds of construction being done in the hall. So we walked across the street and booked a room there. It actually turned out great as we met a Pakistani man who had just opened a gift shop selling Pakistani souvenirs. His name was Mustafa and along with a man from the Pakistani bus we ran into earlier named Javed, we head to a Pakistani restaurant. Andy was hooked on Pakistani food at this point. Along the way we picked up some dry fruit to help with altitude sickness as I was getting a bit of a headache. Once at the Pakistani restaurant there was a steady stream of Pakistanis coming in. We ran into more people from the bus from earlier in the day. They all said we should have just hopped on the bus with them. We ate some good food, played some music, then head to one of the hotels where a lot of Pakistanis stay and played more music in the lobby.It was late and I was a bit afraid that we would wake people up, but our hosts insisted that it wasn't a problem. They were all business men, mostly trading in fruit and they knew the Pakistanis we ran into in Kashghar as well.After a bit, a man in a green uniform stumbled out of a room across the way. His eyes were almost shut, his hair a mess, face all red, he just stood there across the lobby staring at all us. He didn't look too happy. I invited him over to join us, but he just stood there. The other Pakistanis around me explained that he was a Tajek, and sarcastically said he was the Minister of Oil, drunk out of his mind, and not to bother with him. So we continued, and so did he.Finally he got the hotel staff to cut up some melons and presented them to us. He sat down and really enjoyed the music. He kept asking us to play more.Andy handed him the Rabab and he played and sang an amazing Tajek song unlike anything we had heard before. He just stared at Andy and me as he sang with a huge grin ear to ear. Yeah, it was kinda creepy, but man could he play. He begged us to stay, but we were tired and managed to get out and back to the hotel. The Pakistanis we met in Kasghar and Tashkurgan were all from northern areas like Swat and Gilgit. Their hospitality was very genuine and it felt nice to be welcomed and to speak in Urdu with all of them.