There are moments in life when you think, "How have I ended up here?" And then there are moments when you ask yourself, "What sort of choice did I make to set off this crazy chain of events that has led to me facing immense, imminent danger (or worse) in this exact setting?" The latter thought occurred to me as we were travelling through the Tien Shan mountain range in Kyrgyzstan, hurtling our Russian minivan straight down a mountain on unfinished roads in the middle of a torrential downpour at midnight. A newspaper headline danced in my head: 5 Dead in Kyrgyzstan Car Accident: 1 Canadian Teacher, 1 Singaporean Student, 2 Mongolian Students, 1 Kyrgyz Driver Crash in a Remote Region of the Tien Shan.
Let's take a step back. So, I was in Kyrgyzstan for basically the first half of April, acting as a coach and judge at the IDEA Asia Youth Forum, with a very small school group (there were 4 of us, me included). We came to represent Mongolia, and to get a glimpse of post-Soviet central Asia, as opposed to the "Central Asia" that also encompasses Mongolia, despite its geographic isolation from the heart of the region. And, by heart, I mean the "Stans" - Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, probably Afghanistan and, of course, Kyrgyzstan. Our itinerary took us to Bishkek, the Kyrgyz capital, for 3 days of exploration and pre-debate tournament prep, before our hired van would drive us through the mountains to Lake Issyk Kul, a large salt water lake nestled in a mountain range that was the favoured holiday spot of Soviet cadres back in the day, as well as a nuclear sub test site. All of us expected to find a slightly different, probably less developed (and, frankly, crappier) version of Mongolia.
We arrived in Bishkek in the early afternoon and were met at the airport by the office manager of the national office of the packaged food company that the father of one of our students heads up in Mongolia. It was an obscure connection, but we appreciated the inside knowledge and hospitality shown by the Food Empire team, as well as how we managed to avoid the haggling and scheming that is inherent in developing world airport lounges. The first thing we noticed as we drove into the city was the order, and the infrastructure of this part of Kyrgyzstan. In UB, the road to the airport is an obstacle course of potholes, gravel pits and random ass holes in the pavement, but Bishkek's road was well paved, signed in Cyrillic and Latin alphabets, and even had proper exits and entrances like a real road.
Bishkek itself was a beautiful city, the archetype of a Soviet capital. Radiating out from Ala Too Square (see above), the central bit of the city was a seamless blend of beautiful parks, tree lined majestic boulevards, a surprising range of styles of Soviet apartment blocks, an enormous museum, and seemingly thousands of statutes and sculptures (devoted mostly to Communist themes and people) dropped here and there throughout the city. One striking feature of the city was in its relative absence of new developments and in its lack of height, with barely any buildings exceeding the 7 stories of the White House (the main government building).
It's when you leave Bishkek that you see why Kyrgyzstan was the 2nd poorest nation in the USSR, and why it still struggles economically. The closest towns to Bishkek are relatively ordered, with small Soviet apartment blocks nestled into decent sized and maintained houses. But, as you travel further away from the capital, the towns turned increasingly dusty with mud brick huts dotting the landscape, livestock hanging out in the yards of a lot of homes (some crossing the highway to eat more grass, from time to time) and either (a) the shuttered hulls of once functioning Soviet factories or (b) a complete lack of industry. Each town though has a gleaming new mosque, though moderately sized, usually by the side of the road (see below for Kosh Kol's version). Some towns, as they are, are more depressing than others and Balkychy (a large town on eastern edge of Lake Issyk Kul) was especially disheartening in its post Soviet crumble and destitution.
Islam in Kyrgyzstan is fascinating, and seems roughly equivalent to the place of Buddhism in Mongolia in that the Soviets (and their local henchmen) tried to stamp out the influence of religion in the country, and now people are starting to rediscover their religious heritage. 86% of Kyrgyz people are Muslim, but the way the practise their religion seems to vary wildly, with urban Kyrgyz as more likely to treat Islam as more of an ethnic marker, and less directly of a religious practise. The rural areas are much more Muslim, but, still, I have never seen as much vodka and beer in a Muslim country as I did in Kyrgyztsan.
After nearly 5 hours in the van, we arrived at the Kapriz Rest Centre for the debate tournament. Unlike basically everyone else, we had made our own way to the lake (mostly because I was organising the trip and I needed to lock down our transport more than a day or two in advance). This had the advantage of actually having time in Bishkek as well as driving through the beautiful countryside at the time we wanted to go, but had the utter disadvantage of arriving to the surprise of the organising committee. Regardless, we had arrived and we were anxious to start debating.
To be continued.....
