New Day in Kyrgyzstan

Our first day in Kyrgyzstan flew by. Rysbek, Babur, and Anara took us first to the Kyrgyz History Museum in Bishkek. The most interesting items to me were contained in the basement level - small, gold items found in Kyrgyzstan from ancient times. These items have been on public display only since 2008. Inside this museum I learned for the first time about "Manas", a Kyrgyzstan epic that, for them, rivals The Iliad.

We shopped for a bit at a local crafts area, containing many felt items, woolens, hats. We didn't take full advantage, as we were still in a sleep-deprived stupor. We tried a local drink for which Coca-Cola has recently bought rights to the recipe. Here's Leon's reaction..

The absolute best part of the day were the meals when we sat together and got to know more about each others' families and countries. Our dinner was at a park where permanent "picnic sites" (i.e. raised platforms) are available for dining. We sit together in a beautiful evening, and are served a wonderfully spiced rice dish. We are serenaded with traditional Kyrgyz folk songs.

We talk about Kyrgyzstan and its hopes for a peaceful future. The April 7th revolution is still fresh; one of Anara's college professors was killed during the skirmish. There are many hopes for the new president - and the soon to be elected new parliament. If all goes well, Kyrgyzstan would lead the "stans" in being its first democracy. Rysbek comments that the most important aspect will be whether their work is "transparent" and whether it re-invests income in the country (rather than their own pockets).

The country is poor, with a GNP of $1.5 billion. But, it's population is hard-working and highly educated. Kyrgyzstan pays for education through college, if a young person is interested and bright. Many of its educated people, however, today live outside of the country. (Kyrgyzstan has a population of 5 million, counting 1 million living abroad.)

We give many toasts - for our countries' futures, for our own. My favorite toast comes from Anara, "May we continue to stay in touch, and may our grandchildren be friends."

A Man Who's Rich in Daughters

I should mention how we happened to go to The Kyrgyz Republic in the first place. Jim and I met Kunduz Rysbek in Beibei, China two years ago while leading a study-abroad trip from the College of St. Ben's/ St. John's University. She was there studying Chinese on her own. She quickly became friends with our students - and with us. Kunduz is gorgeous, smart, considerate, and of a gentle spirit. Eighteen at the time, she already spoke five languages fluently. We soon adopted her as another daughter.

After returning home, Jim worked hard to get Kunduz accepted at, and to attend, St. Benedict's. (She is currently attending Miami of Ohio instead as they have a better International Business program.) But, in the course of applying to St. Ben's, many emails crossed between Jim and Kunduz or her father. In every exchange, there was an invitation, "You should come to Kyrgyzstan." We thought, "How often do we have a invitation to go to Kyrgyzstan?" so we said yes!

Now, we're in Kyrgyzstan and have met Rysbek, his wife Jyldyz, and Kunduz' older twin sisters. Both of them have the same attributes as Kunduz - gorgeous, smart, etc. etc. Each of them has daughters of her own: Anara has one daughter named Teligay. (Pictured here are Anara, Teligay, and Jyldyz). Chinara has two daughters.

I reflect on a favorite Greg Brown song of mine called: "A Man Who's Rich in Daughters", and I think of Rysbek. He truly is rich.

Hot Air Ballooning at Dawn/ Bishkek at Night

One of my favorite memories of our trip will be our 30th anniversary night on July 12. We had arranged for a "home-cooked" Turkish meal at 7:30 p.m. at our hotel. Jim and I returned from our all day tour around 7, fairly exhausted. But, a quick shower and change of clothes later, we joined Beth, Mark and Leon on the terrace.

It was a beautiful, clear night. We drank wine and shared memories of our wedding day with Beth. We were toasted and feted. Leon, Mark and Beth then surprised us with a present - a hot air balloon ride, scheduled for the next morning! What a gift.

Our transport to the balloon site arrived at 5:45 a.m. the next morning. We join several others already in the van and went up a hilltop launch site. There, four balloons are being inflated with huge propane heaters. Once filled with hot air, all five of us climb into one of four baskets tied to the balloon.

Our pilot stands in the middle of the four baskets. He's from England, and flies hot air balloons in Goreme, Cappadocia in the summer and Burma in the winter. He says most people work 9 to 5, but he prefers his 5 to 9 schedule. According to him, thirteen years ago, there was only one hot air balloon company in Goreme. But due to the unique beauty of this landscape, there are now dozens. And we see them. As the sun rises, so do the balloons. One by one, balloons of every hue start drifting across the horizon; we count over twenty-five. Soon, we are sailing, too!

Our ride lasts about an hour. We dip down into the same Love Valley that we walked two days before, then rise over farm fields, rock chimneys, and fairylike hills. The morning light sparkles. We see forever. We land right where the crew is, manuveur ourselves out of the basket, and enjoy flutes of champagne. What a perfect last morning in Goreme!

The rest of the day is spent traveling to Kyrgyzstan. Earlier, Jim had sent Kunduz a note saying that since we were arriving so late (after 1:00 a.m.), we would take a taxi to the hotel and meet her father in the morning. Kunduz replied that she wouldn't even pass that note along - that he would want to meet us upon arrival. And, he did. We left passport control, and there were three gentlemen with a hand-printed sign saying "Jim", and bouquets of roses for Beth and me. Kunduz's father Rysbek was one; the other two were Kunduz' brother-in-law and and a dear family friend named Babur.

We arrive at our hotel at 3 a.m., and fall into bed - grateful for the bed, but mostly for great friends.

Hamam

The last night in Cappadocia, Jim and I arranged for a traditional Turkish steam bath, or hamam. Our hotel owner arranged for us to go to one that has operated continuously for 300 years in a nearby town.

Let me give you just a taste of our experience. At 8:30 p.m., Jim and I are the only customers. We are shown to a small dressing room where we undress and wrap ourselves in pestimals - red thin, long cloths. We go into the central domed area, where we douse ourselves with water from basins set around the room. We are directed to the steam room (similar to a Finnish sauna) and sit in there until we are steaming.

Our masseuse shows up and our eyes grew rounder. If I were casting a Hollywood film with a steambath scene, he would get the part! He had a thick, dark mustache and curly black hair. Jim commented that his other job must be as a middle linebacker with the Oakland Raiders. He was about 6 foot 3, 260 pounds, with not an ounce of fat.

He gives us each a massage in turn. After pouring HOT water over you, he scrubs you with a coarse cotton mitten. (I thought it was a wire brush; Jim thought it was sandpaper). This loosens any dirt, and my top skin layer actually came off in tight, little rolls. He rinses you off in HOT water for a second time. He pours tons of soapy suds all over your body, and starts the massage. Our bodies must tell tales, because he spends more time on Jim’s middle back and more time on my neck and shoulders. When our massage was done, he shampooed our hair. After a final HOT rinse, we swim in a cool pool under a domed ceiling.

And, the experience was still not over. We are given dry, blue pestimals to change into, then big Turkish towels are wrapped around our shoulders and heads. Led to a carpet lined sofa, we are given hot tea to sip. Last, lemon oil is splashed on our hands and, via gestures, we’re told to rub it into our skin.

It is after 11:00 p.m. as we ooze out onto the street. Jim and I look at each other. Has this really happened? Unforgettable!

Underground City

Mark, Leon, Beth, Jim and I all got to the underground city at Derinkuyu via different routes. Jim and I joined a tour today - an all day tour that went to the underground city, the beautiful Ilhala Valley, and an old monastery. Meanwhile, Beth and Leon rented a car; Mark a motorcycle. (Leon and Beth said that driving down the road in their own vehicles was "living in high cotton" and Mark never stopped grinning.)

But, the central destination for all of us was this underground city capable of housing a thousand people. These underground tunnel systems served many purposes through the ages. Our guide said that the first two layers were probably carved by Hittites 4000 years ago for food storage and animal livery. The deeper layers (we went down eight levels) were carved 2000 years ago by early Christians as safe havens from invading Persian troops or even marauding traders who wanted their absidian tools.

The whole city was subterranean - and couldn't be easily attacked. There were multiple, secret entrances hidden on the surface. People had to enter in single file. They had carved huge round stones weighing up to 1000 kilograms that they could roll in front of doorways and totally seal themselves off. Vertical shafts of 85 meters deep provided fresh air. Horizontal shafts that carried sound allowed them to communicate with other cities.

Archeologists believe that there are over 100 underground cities in this area; fourteen are open to visit. While they were intended only for temporary shelter, they were sophisticated, with different levels for cooking, wine making, animal care, housing, etc. The one we explored could hold up to 1000 people alone for up to 2 weeks.

The Land of Beautiful Horses

When Persia ruled Turkey, this area was famous for its horses; in fact, we've been told that the name Cappedocia means the land of beautiful horses. It's only appropriate then that Goreme has a "horse whisperer" --- and that Leon would want to meet him.

His name is Ekrem Ilhan. The local stories say that he goes to Mt. Erciyes and captures wild horses from a herd of over 400 roaming there. He gentles them with kind words, "carrots and cucumbers". I expected him to be an old man. While I was at the Dark Church, Jim and Leon went to seek him out. He turned out to be a 30-something man with long, black hair. When Leon asked him about his horses, he responded that his horses' rides were so smooth, "you could drink a cup of tea while riding horseback" (which is how Leon describes his own horses, almost verbatim). Leon exclaimed, "You've got gaited horses!" Leon proceeded to entertain him by tying a knot in a belt and a rope using only one hand. The horse whisperer invited Leon for a private ride, because "it would be an honor to ride with someone who actually knows horses."

Jim told me later than Leon was dragging when they entered the corral because (like mad dogs and Englishmen) we had been out in the noon-day sun, but that, "Leon skipped all the way back to hotel."

New Posts

For anyone following this blog, I should mention that we have returned to Istanbul after an unforgettable week in Kyrgyzstan with Kunduz' family. Because I'm trying to write this somewhat chronologically, you'll notice that I'm behind. (Bear with me, I'll get all the experiences down within a week.)

Also, you should know that I published today a new post about Ephesus that appears very early (about the 4th post in what would now be "older posts.") To entice you to go back to it, you should know that it contains a picture of Connie, Jim, and Leon sitting on a 2000 year old latrine! (That should jump-start your imagination.)