Once Upon a Bicycle...

Kyrgystan is an enchanting place! Immigration was a simple process. The one employee on duty curiously flipped through my passport. The short wave radio crackled and the clock knocked each second off. Several minutes later he asked me where I was from then neatly printed it in a large leger book.
Along the way, a mosaic of wildflowers edge the road that sways through the valley along the Tup river, interrupted only by stands of honey for sale. When the sun lowers to where the river surface turns a glassy silver the beekeepers pile into their brightly colored Ladas, aqua, lime, fuchia and pumpkin. They rattle back to their gingerbread villages where houses with blue cursive woodwork trim and lace curtains wait for them with hot tea.

Past the town potato and wheat striped fields hush in reverence to the men galloping by on horseback. Their koumiss jugs swinging as they ride, leaning into a confident stride. Sometimes they gallantly stop and offer me some. But lets not spoil the scene by mentioning what happened last time I had koumiss... oops I think I already did.

David from the Travel Agency told me that Kyrgystan was a fairy tale. It is! Complete with evil storms whose lightning claw at the mountains and thunder that menacingly roars across the valley. Only thing missing are the dwarfs.

Hospitality is the name of the game here and a unique network of homestays have developed into dainty bed and breakfasts. I'm staying at one tonight that has rose gardens, a small apple orchard and a washing machine!

Here a 'Stan, There a 'Stan, Bernadette's Route Plan

This blog mentions relatively little about where I'm going. I also realize that the map posted to your left is not very helpful either. So break out your atlas and come along for the ride.

After leaving Almaty, Kazakhstan, I cycled east opting to cross the border into Kyrgystan on the eastern side of Lake Issy Kul (may be spelled many different ways) to avoid all the traffic going to Bishkek. Yesterday I crossed into Kyrgystan in the Karkara Valley and am now in Karakol.

From here I will head back west along the southern shores of Lake Issy Kul with detours to see the poetic 'Valley of Flowers' and the beach in Tamga. Then continue on to Kochgor, Kyrgystan. If I can find the salt caverns at Sharhta Tuz, I'll stop there too. After all, I'm on vacation.

From Kochgor, I'll head south climbing the mountains that divide nothern and southern Kyrgystan to Naryn. From Naryn a rough road heads east to Jalal Abad. Then Ill zig zag back south to Osh.

The road south of Osh will lead my straight through the village of Sary Tash and into the Pamir Mountains of Tajikistan. I'll follow the Pamir Highway through Murgab and Khorog then along to Dushanbe. Where I hope to find a beer and a well deserved rest.

It's Corny Big Time!

Oh Yeah!

Ready to Rock and Roll!

Bernadette now has both a Kyrgys and a Tajik visas in her hot little hand and is ready to hit the road! The Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Region(GBAO) permit that Akbar at the Embassy wouldn't give her can conveniently be done online (with a travel agency) and be waiting for her when she gets there. Wahoo!

(Bernadette suspects that Akbar was just a little offended that Bernadette couldn't pronounce Gorno-Badakhshan correctly. )

Apparently the Beatles also came to Kazakhstan.

Got Gas?

I think I mentioned that carbonated beverages are very popular with Almatians ( is that how you refer to Almaty residents?) Here is a street side soda vendor. If you are on a budget you can order soda without flavor syrup. I splurged. The glasses you see are on a little rinser. The charming lace around the gas tank sets her apart from all the other stand twenty meters down the street.

They even carbonate yogurt. Which sounds awful but is actually quite refreshing. I am continually blown away by how creative you can be with dairy. I think the only thing not made with milk in this region is alfredo sauce. But I'm sure that's only a matter of time.

Postcard

Some of you who are lucky enough to be on my postcard list may recieve this gem in your mail box. But it was just too great not to share with the rest of you! I think it wins the prize for worst postcard ever. It's better than the ones of Ho Chi Minh playing pingpong. Or the one of the taxadermy rabbit family in the dollhouse from Oberlin, Kansas. Have no idea what it says but I can bet it's not, "Having a great time in Kazakhstan." Ten points to whoever can translate it - or even better, offer suggestions on what it might/should say.

Street Scenes

Mountains, monuments and more trees!

Amaty Street Scenes

Flower shops! Fruit vendors! Trees!

Culture Shocked in Almaty

Hello! Several days ago I arrived in Almaty, Kazkahstan. Since then I have been riding the city buses around the tree lined boulevards trying to sort out visas and permits for onward travel. The issuance of these depend heavily on the mood of whoever is working at the embassy on that particular day.

Almaty is set in a valley next to snowcapped mountains that make the border with Kyrgystan. It is a very developed place and has strategically (?) planted tall trees that make it hard to see the sometimes crumbling concrete buildings. There are parks with fountains where men drink beer and kids eat ice cream. There are planters with flowers along the sidewalks and women selling fresh raspberries in ouside newspaper kiosks. Every few blocks the smoke of a grill announces a kebab stand. Carbonated drinks are very popular and the first Kazakh phrase I learned was how to ask for water with out gas. Stores sell plasma tvs, fur coats and cosmetics. Threre are car dealerships and neon signs. It is quite a change from Mongolia.

See my hotel here? It's the one behind the trees!

Also, be sure to click 'older posts' at the bottom of this page because I finally finished posting comments for the rest of the Mongolia photos. Doing my best to keep up!

Happy Birthday Bernadette!

I'm 30! Thank you Diane, Omar and Yoni for the cake!

They surprised me in the internet cafe singing Happy Birthday, with a cake and candles! We sat there and had a little party and shared the cake with everyone there. This is one birthday I won't forget. It's up there with the time I went to the Ute pow wow and the time I got the tacky square dancing lamp.

Bernadette to the Rescue!

It is some small miracle that I made it 1077 km across Mongolia without a flat tire. So when these guys in a jeep asked to use some of my innertube patches I was happy to help them out. I didn't think it would work. But it did. Well for the next 20km it did. Then we had to stop and patch it again. It took forever. The pair of legs on the right belong to the son of a man who was running for congress in the election. He was the one driving around getting folks to vote and giving exhausted cyclists a lift into the city after the polling was done.

Election Day!

Some of you have inquired about the post election state of emergency in Mongolia. Things were quiet outside of the capital. Those who I asked about it shrugged unconcerned. They seemed unsurprised at the allegations of election rigging. One man told me that the riots were probably the results of the loosing party giving alchohol to their enraged young supporters. Who knows.

This was the polling place along the shores of Achit Nuur. The 'macheen' (truck) on the right was driving around the valley stopping at gers and picking up potential voters and pathetic foreigners walking along the road trying to pushing their bikes through the sand while swatting at the mosquitos. ( You should have seen those little suckers laugh at my 30% deet repellant)

He Knows Something I Don't

He knows that the sand in this valley is impossible to bike through! I had spent hours walking my bike when he rode up next to me with a big grin.

Kazakh Culture

The Kazakhs are a lot different from the Mongols. For one thing their gers are a lot bigger and certainly more decorative. You can see both the woven and the embroidered wraps around the roof behind these women. The women wear head scarves and are some have a picture of Mecca tucked in the ger rafters.
Their mil tea is considerably saltier and there usually are small fried dough squares that accompany the cheese, cream, butter and yogurt.
It will be interesting to compare Mongolian Kazkahs to the ones in Kazakhstan.

Family Portrait

In the Olgii Aimag (province) ethnic Kazakhs outnumber Mongols. The two on my right had bright green eyes. Here, I'm the only one smiling despite having just been lost in a swamp. I had spotted their ger in the distance and stopped to ask where the 'road' was. I had somehow lost track of it.
They asked if I had a camera. Then proceeded to pose their family members in every combination possible. They would all double over laughing at each shot then turn stoneface again for the camera. I think we took about 45 photos.

End of the Road.

This is a common roadside scene. Maybe it was a bbq?

Home Sweet Home

Have I mentioned that there isn't much here in Mongolia? Well, if I haven't, let me tell you, it's pretty empty. Which means you can camp anywhere you want.
I asked someone about landownership. I got a vague answer that went something like 'the land is for everyone'. I had heard that there are grazing licenses. But I'm not sure how this works. In UlaanBaatar I did see a real estate agency so there must be some sort of system in place.

valley

The problem with travelling alone is that I'm not in many of my pictures. Tonight after dinner of rice , onion and reconstituted meat, I played with the timer on my camera. 'Hi Mom!'

Back in the Saddle

There aren't many commemorative signs in Mongolia. This one was extra special because it was in Mongolian and English! It said that the mountains (that I'm facing) were sacred for the ancient Mongols and hope that the coming generations will honor them as well. The man who took this photo was honoring them with plenty of vodka. It took about five trys before he succesfully captured the moment.

The Disco Macheen

For fourtyeight hours my molars rattled in the cab of this 'macheen' (Mongolian for truck). You can kind of see my bike strapped behind the ger roof here as we stopped for a stretch next to the only watersource on route. Unfortunately it was the salt water lake or Khyargas Nuur.

The driver only had one cassette tape, Russian dance music. Sometime during the second day he got tired of it and started singing Mongolian folk songs. Several hours later he switched on the tape player again. It was a long ride to Ulaangom.

Yahtzee!

There was a stretch on the map, about 270km from Songino to Nurvanburlag where there was no town, no rivers, and one salt lake. At the rate I go on these roads that would have taken me at least 5 days. Unsure that I could carry that much water and keep myself from getting lost in the desert with no one to ask for help, I decided to hitch a ride. With the help of a friendly German aid worker and his Mongolian friends we cooked up a plan that I could wait at the police checkpoint until someone going west came along. So I spent a delighful afternoon playing yahtzee with Inspektor Gumbold.

Another quiz: Who has had more vodka, Bernadette or the Inspektor?

Ger Power!

Unless your ger is in a town, your cassette player is most likely powered by the solar panels outside your ger. If you are really doing well you have a satellite dish for a tv! These folks ran a small canteen called a guanz. They served the normal fare of milk tea and tsuivan -fried noodles with meat. (and sometimes onion, if you're really lucky carrot too!)

A New Approach to Herding

At the ger I described in the last post lived a sister and a brother. The little boy was really taken with my bicycle. I let him take it for a spin and he used it to round up all their yaks and herd them into the pen for milking. Let me tell you milking a yak is no easy task.

A Ger Visit

Most Mongolians live in these round tents called 'gers'. They all have a stove in the center and beds on either side and an altar of sorts facing the door. The door is always facing south.(haven't had to used the compass yet) The family that owned this ger found me setting up my tent and emphatically refused to let me continue. I would come stay with them. When you arrive in a 'ger' you are sat down near the stove usually opposite the door, a respected position, and offered a bowl of milk tea accompanied by an assortment of milk products. Here is a typical 'conversation'.

Mongolian Hostess: gesturing sit down
Bernadette: Byharla (Thanks)
MH: goes to the stove, makes the tea
B: (stumbling throught the phrasebook for the appropriate phrase) I hope your animals are fattening well.
MH: nods, saying something, looking very very happy
B: Nods and waits, smiles at kids, asks if the drunk man passed out is their father.
MH: Presents the bowl of milk and sets a plate of cheese, another of butter and another of cream on a low table. gestures eat.
B: Sips the milk, "Mmm amtai" (delicious) reaches for some cheese and brings it towards her mouth.
MH: frantically waving no no
B: questioning look
MH: demonstrates spreading the butter on the cheese then eating
B: smiles, puts butter on her cheese too

Because nothing goes better with a bowl of milk than butter on cheese!

The Weather

There must be at least a hundred towns in America that claim the quote "If you dont like the weather, wait five minutes" describes them. Mongolia is no different. Here I sat in the sun under a tree eating dried apricots and watched this storm rage about 100 meters off. Knock on wood, I have really lucked out with the weather. Apart from one hailstorm it has been warm enough to camp and cycle the whole time. Afternoon showers are common but shortlived with promising blue sky in the distance that keeps me going.

Notice the trees! They were the first I had seen since Ulaan Baatar!

Erdene Zuu Monestary

This is one of the monestarys that has been rebuilt since the communists decided they werent such a good idea and tore them down. Ironically one of the communist party candidates in the recent election used a photoshoped a picture of himself shaking hands with the Dalai Lama infront of this very monestary on his campaign posters.

There's Something About Dairy

Somethings I understand. You don't have to refrigerate bananas, for instance. You also don't need to be concerned about things like jam, mayonnaise, eggs, or even meat if its not out too long. Butter even I can see. But yogurt? Yogurt needs to be kept cool. So does sour cream. So what is the secret. Here is this woman sitting in the market on a hot hot day with two big vats of yogurt. It was delicious! She let me taste it. So I bought some. She poured it into an old plastic juice bottle and I, thinking it was some heat resistant miracle, put it in my purse. When I tasted it again a four or five hours later it had acquired a certain zing that it hadn't had before. What don't I get about yogurt? How is this possible? I'm stumped.

Bustling Marketplace

Pool is very popular in Mongolia. I'm not sure how they play in the winter because I've never seen a table set up indoors. Maybe it's a summer sport - like beach volleyball. Here, the local pool hall in set up in the market. You can't tell from this picture but the stalls along the left are actually freight containers made into small stores. When the market closes, or when it starts to rain. They just shut the doors and watch the pool tables get wet.

Seeing Stars?

I didn't realize how far north I was . I had brought star maps thinking that in the evenings I 'd be able to kick back and search for constellations. But the sun doesn't set until about 10pm. By that time I am packed in my tent and dozing off. This day outside Kharhorin was an exception. I had slept in and was able to keep my eyes open long enough to watch the sun set. But not long enough to see stars.

The Kindness of Strangers

Everyone in Mongolia has been incredibly hospitable. I've heard it described as essential to their survival, it gets so tough here they all have to help each other out. Every time I pass a ger with people outside I am inevitably invited in for a bowl of salty milk. This man stocked me up with water and his granddaughter sang for us.

I Can't Imagine

I can't imagine who put this sign up or what they were thinking. I hadn't seen a tree in days. And I wouldn't for another week! Secondly , it's in English. Sometimes I just don't understand.

Mongolian Navagation Made Easy

Here is a typical Mongolian road. Do you see it? Its that small track in front of the sign with all the place names rubbed off and that vague line of clouded dust across the left side of the picture. Either way all the arrows on the sign are pointing in the same direction! How can you go wrong?
In the phrasebook the word for road and the word for path are the same. Why would you need to differentiate? All the roads here are essentially paths. When one path gets to rutted or dusty another path develops along side it. Sometimes they meet back up sometimes they don't. I usually follow the dust clouds made by trucks in the distance or the powerlines, when there are any.

Off we go!

Let the Derby Begin. June 6th Galilea and I left Ulaan Baatar. In this photo I have no idea that the road is about to end and I would spend the next few days fighting dust storms. The good news is that there were signs of road construction. I passed several men napping in the cabs of steam rollers. (I dont know why this is all underlined) None the less I am happy to be on the road.