In Which I Spend All Day on a Train: Croatia to Bosnia

After a week in the wilderness of eastern Kyrgyzstan, we were finally on our way to the big city for a few days. Bishkek (formerly Pishpek lolololol) would bring us restaurants, cafes, parks, museums, a hotel, laundry, all the markings of civilization – plus a shittonne more people and, with other cars besides ours in a 100 mile radius for the first time, lots and lots of pollution from the exhaust. But laundry! 

Bishkek has almost 1 million residents in an area of 127 square kilometers. Considering public transit is really not a big thing there (most people rely on mashrutkas (which we will be talking about a lotttt in the next post) which are literally just small unmarked white vans crammed with lots of people and you just like get in???? no!), the traffic is abysmal. It took like an hour to go a mile one afternoon. Yes we could have walked faster. Because of all the cars, and all the lack of environmental regulation on said (super ancient Soviet) cars, the pollution in the city was intense. The concentrations of dangerous pollutants in the city center often exceed allowable maximums. It’s not as bad as the pollution in Beijing, but I noticed it 100x more, and smelled it. I guess different sources make different smellies. I wonder what the world will do about this sort of thing oh that’s right NOTHING. 

​Aside from that Bishkek was pretty nice.

Day 7

We woke up in the Chon Kemin CBT guesthouse to the wifi not working. Since this was the day we were going to actually drive to the capital city, we finally switched on the privileged yoot section of our brains that we had turned off for so long in the wilderness and righteously complained (to each other; we’re not monsters) about the lack of modern-day amenities. Entering a yurt for breakfast while totally unaware of what happened in the world overnight?! Who does that? Besides literally everyone who lives in yurts, I mean. 

Breakfast was a heavy fried dough calzone type thing filled with potato, so not exactly the kind of thing that sets me off feeling great for a day. I wish I could have refused but yurt lady would not allow people to even refuse to drink tea! Old yurt ladies are not to be messed with! So I tried to eat some and pretended to drink my tea all while looking around the table for my missing friend, the watermelon. Arbus! Arbus where are you? 

We set out for our drive to Bishkek with a few stops on the itinerary. First stop after only a few minutes was this giant hoe in a field. I think it’s a giant hoe. It might be a giant guitar. Who knows and who knows why. Z do you remember? I mean who doesn’t like big f-ing things in the middle of fields, I guess. 

Next up was a legit tourist attraction, the Burana Tower, which is a big minaret from the 9th century. The original tower was severly damaged by earthquakes over the years (omg there are earthquakes here?) and restored in the 1970s. You might be thinking that those renovations not so long ago mean that the tower was reconstructed with modern audiences in mind, but you would be wrong. Climbing to the top of the tower, which is the thing to do if you are able-bodied, is a legit shitshow. Hold on here’s a picture first.

First, you climb up a rickety metal winding staircase on the outside of the tower, to a platform about 2 stories up. (I don’t know how big a story is but it seemed like 2 times what I do to get upstairs at home.) We found about 4 people on the platform, waiting at the entrance/hole cut out of the tower. We were told we had to wait for everyone up at the top at the moment to come down, because the stairhole inside is only big enough for one person at a time in one single direction. And you have to climb up and down using your feet and your hands because it is so cramped and narrow and super steep. SO MUCH FUN. Like I said above, you have to be able-bodied, and more than that you have to not be claustrophobic because if you freak out inside there is literally no way for anyone to get to you. I was petrified. I almost said f it and turned back down the winding staircase to the safety of the ground, like two of the people in line ahead of us did. But I figured I would want to have done this. I guess. It’s really not a huge deal. It’s not the great wall. I don’t know if I recommend climbing up if you are not super enthusiastic about tiny ancient stone torture methods. Oh ps no one works on the tower to keep order; just another guide told us about the waiting and the narrowness so it was lucky she was there. They should have a sign or something.

Finally (we waited like a half hour) the other tourists came down, clearing the way for us to go up. You know who one of those finishing tourists was? An eighty-year-old woman. F-ing hell. I had to try after seeing her! See me above, tentatively grasping for the stair above me while I still had light? After these first few steps, they wind around so that the brick wall is right against your back and you have to climb up like you are in 2D. And it was dark. It was scary. Blech. Luckily it didn’t take as long as I feared; maybe the fear made me scamper faster. Anyway this was the view. 

So, you know, not, like, gorgeous. 

Going down was awful, since you couldn’t see (even if there was light, it was too squashed) what your feet were reaching for as your hands did their best not to let go. But finally we were back on solid ground. The rest of the Burana site had a few small museums with artifacts uncovered in the area and some ancient stone statues, probably for fertility or war. 

 Finally we made our way to Bishkek! We dropped our stuff at our hotel before Sacha took us on a tour of the city. That’s right bishes, a hotel! It was a nice little clean and modern place called Futuro Hotel and it was splendid to have my own bathroom again, even if there was a big mirror in the shower which is just weird. The only downside was that, despite being a smaller cooler not-upscale hotel, Futuro mimicked upscale hotels’ stupid stupid stupid overpriced laundry service costs, the per-item kind where it’s cheaper to just buy new clothes than to pay $4 to clean each sock. Speaking of, I had lost a sock so I was down to one clean one which really did me no good. I get that fancy hotels do this because a lot of people who stay there don’t care what it costs or can charge to businesses or something, but this hotel was clearly catering to the laundromat set who would never spend more on cleaning a tee shirt than they did on the room itself. Anyway, so we searched high and low for a laundromat. Where was my laundry babushka when I needed her? (Oh in Ulan Ude.) We found one online – one – but it didn’t have an address, only a neighborhood and a phone number that didn’t connect 99% of the time. Sacha called A LOT and they never picked up until ahhh finally they did! Where are you located, we assume he asked? And they said the name of a main street and that was it. Wtf. We drove up and down the main street 100x and there was no sign of it. Sacha yelled at every single passerby “DEVUSHKA!” (the word for girl and like waitress) and asked if they knew where the laundromat was and no one had any idea that there was one in their city. Why doesn’t every single city have a laundromat I don’t understand! It would do such good tourist business. Finally we went down an alley and then turned into another alley and found a dusty shed of a place that was a carpet cleaning business. That was it, it turned out! I felt real weird leaving all of my clothes at a carpet cleaning shop but they said they could clean clothes too so okay. It was the equivalent of like $4. We picked up the next day and everything was ostensibly clean, but smelled like horse. 

After we got that sorted, we could finally relax and see Bishkek. Well, relax as much as possible when we were 75% sure we were never getting our clothes back. Eh I’m sick of everything I brought anyway. Bishkek was a welcome shot of modernity after the past few weeks. There were buildings and sidewalks, restaurants and museums, all kinds of signs of a real city. And like I said before, tons of horrible car exhaust to try not to inhale. Funny how traveling can make one long for London’s pollution. Bishkek had lots of important statues all around the center commemorating important state history as well as important world events. The guy on the horse above is Magnanimous Manas, one of the most important legends in Kyrgyzstan. Manas is from an epic poem that is 500,000 lines long, and while Kyrgyz people argue that that’s the longest epic poem in history and Tibetans are like naw look here, I think we can all agree it’s in the top 3. Manas’s stories contains the expected battles and invasions and his heroism in such things. He’s strong and brave, and then he has a son who is equally brave and strong and they defeat the Afghans and stuff. Rode horses. 

The statue pictured above, of the MAN HOLDING UP A HORSE, represents the very important guy Baatyr Kaba Uulu Kozhomkul. Hoo boy, this guy, he’s big here. He was said to be 7.5 feet tall, over 400 pounds, and so strong that he carried his horse through a mountain pass after an avalanche. Hence this statue, outside the sports stadium named after Kozhomkul, honoring his most famous Feat of Strength. Hysterical.

But of course my favorite statue had to be the requisite GIANT LENIN that every once-Soviet city must flaunt. 

We walked all around the city center with Sacha to see all the things, and it was soo freaking hot. 35 degrees celsius which even I know is hella hot despite my refusal to learn celsius. There was a good deal of green space which helped give a little relief from the sun. One of the parks had my favorite thing, a moon bounce. I mean a bouncy house. I mean a bouncy castle. 

Actually since we’re on the subject of favorites and I usually have 100 favorites thereby completely draining the word of any meaning, here’s my real favorite thing about Bishkek. This square right in the city center had this giant screen sharing information, maybe news, maybe pictures of art, or maybe advertisements. I don’t actually know, because this is how the screen was when we were there – not working, on the windows desktop by accident. I am still hysterical at this. Did NO one responsible for it notice? 

After our scorching hot tour of the city with Sachafierce, we had the evening to ourselves. First on my list from HappyCow was a restaurant called Social Coffee. They had a vegetarian section in the menu! I was so excited – I got hummus (my favorite), tofu (my favorite), and green juice! The hummus was good but they didn’t serve it with nearly enough bread or crackers so I had to eat most of it just on a fork which is whack. The tofu was good for not being in a tofu country! The green juice was whatever, green juice, but might be the thing responsible for my nausea later than night. Betrayed! No it was probably because it came with ice. Ugh. I was okay though it passed. I know you’re concerned. 

The best thing about the Futuro Hotel was, well my own bathroom, but aside from that, the best was that five minutes up the road was a huge Globus Supermarket! (It was so big they named it after the globe!) They had amazing stuff – a giant prepared food section with wonderful vegan dishes like – of course – my favorite tofu skin and carrot salad that we had all through Siberia. AGAIN, it translated from the Russian as “asparagus salad”. If ANYONE can explain to me why they call strips of tofu skin ‘asparagus’ please let me know! Isn’t that confusing for them? Or do they not have asparagus in this part of the world so like, they just gave that name to something else? Isn’t that still confusing when like people from other (non-Soviet) parts of the world talk about asparagus? What if you’re having a conversation and someone is like “we had this great asparagus it was cooked just enough so it was still crisp” and the former-Soviet person would be like, “what do you mean still crisp? it’s never crisp, it’s stretchy.” I mean I guess the odds of this conversation happening are slim to none but still, there’s grounds for confusion and I wanted so badly to have someone work this out with me but my Russian is barely good enough to order all the asparagus/tofu skin salad. Which I did. 

Globus also had a great bulk food section of things like nuts and dried fruit and my favorite thing – fried broad beans! Like I found in the Kashgar bazaar! Luckily, unlike those market beans, these grocery store beans did not threaten to break my teeth every time I tried to chew them. These were actually made safely for human teeth! I wish I had more ugh so good. And yes London people I know the organic shoppe up the street from me sells these from the bulk bins too but it’s not the same! This was sustenance! 

The supermarket, and Kyrgyz minimarts, also had this amazing chocolate popcorn that happened to be accidentally vegan. We ate the shiiiiz out of that. 

Speaking of ‘what Kyrgyz people think America is’, here’s the peanut butter they had for sale. CRACKING UP. 

But the real best was in the toiletries part of the store. There was a GIGANTIC section of hilarious socks. I’m obsessed. They were cheap and adorable and easy to squeeze in my pack so I bought sooo many. If we’re friends in real life you will probably be getting one of these beauts soon. 

Full with TWO different kinds of protein, my bag stocked with crazy socks, beans, and popcorn, I was pretty happy with our first day in Bishkek. That first night’s sleep in the hotel was amaze. 

DAY 8

For our last day in Kyrgyzstan, Sacha picked us up early to drive us to Ala Archa National Park. Forget Ulan Ude, Ala Archa is the REAL way Russians say “Alan Alda”. Ala Archa (which is pronounced, at least by Sacha, with an amazing elision so it’s more like ‘alarcha’) is an alpine park about an hour’s drive from Bishkek. It’s still part of the Tien Shan mountain range, can you believe how big that range is?! Still since China! The park is mainly the gorge from the Alarcha River and all the pretty mountains for trekking and hiking and climbing and just general wanderingment. 

Ala Archa was beautiful, as you can see, and also serene, feeling a lot more untouched and raw than other national parks sometimes do. We had all morning to hike around the trails and relax in nature while we still could. It’s places like this that make you forget all the troubles of the world. Well until Sacha recommended that we climb a particularly steep part of a mountain to a place affectionately known as “climbers’ cemetery”. Mmm, nah, we good. 

We walked all around the park and the gorge, exploring the area around the rapids via these tiny little petrifying bridges. Luckily Sacha didn’t try to drive over this one. I love how loud the water is, when it’s the only sound you can hear in the whole world. 

​As ever, the signage did not disappoint. ​

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? FOR THE LIFE OF ME. I CANNOT FIGURE OUT WHAT WAS INTENDED. 
​

Regardless of how much my head still hurts from trying to figure out that sign, this was a pretty perfect last day in Kyrgyzstan. Ala Archa was lovely and reminiscent of my favorite place, the similar Jedi Oguz Geopark place from the last post. To say goodbye, Sacha took us out to a great lunch (I got TWO kinds of cabbage salads!) and gave us these absolutely ridiculous and perfect souvenirs. 

They crack me up every time I look at them! So perfect. So, I know you probably wanted me to despise my time in Kyrgyzstan (it’s funnier that way FOR YOU) but as it turns out, I kind of loved this trip! I would highly recommend a visit around the country for anyone who likes natural beauty and places off the beaten path or terribly named peanut butters. Such a wonderful time. 

​Tomorrow we leave for Kazakhstan! Mah wife! 

You know why Ireland is so green? Because it is ALWAYS RAINING. That’s what we learned anyway on our trip through the Irish countryside, on our journey from Cork to Dublin. We spent most of this time exploring County Cork after flying into and enjoying the city of Cork, because the region is home to two of the very special places we had to see: Blarney Castle and Ballymaloe. Also, as Husbo says to everyone going to Ireland, you don’t go for the cities; you go for the countryside, the gorgeous, green-as-heck, rainy-to-make-it-all-so-green countryside. And if I can so enjoy myself when it’s so cold and rainy and my shoulders shoot up so high that I get bodybuilder neck (i.e. no neck) then it must be a special place. 

After leaving the city limits, Ireland was almost hilarious in how green it was. I felt like I was on set in a young adult novel from the 1800s. All dem rolling hills! There are tonnes of castles and forts of note to see in the vicinity, but there’s one at the top of every list: Blarney Castle. Drawing tourists by the busfull, Blarney Castle dates back to about 1200AD. It was destroyed and rebuilt in the 15th century but it still counts to say it’s from the 1200s. Over all this time, the castle was besieged and captured and attacked and regained and bewitched and bothered and bewildered and everything that castles should expect to experience, over and over, so now it’s mostly a ruin. But some parts of it are still accessible to tourists, including the thing everyone is coming to see – the Blarney Stone. 

The Blarney Stone, I’ve since learned, is part of a machicolation, which means it’s a floor opening in battlements through which shit like boiling oil  (yikes) or stones could be dropped down on attackers. But that’s a much darker context than we’ve all accepted. The acceptable history of the Stone is that this limestone block above the floor opening of a particularly high battlement will give those who kiss it the gift of eloquence. And that’s why strangers for centuries have shared germs on an old piece of rock. The real legend says that the 15th century rebuilder of the castle, Cormac McCarthy (fork I thought he looked old for the earth but I guess he’s aging remarkably well), was involved in a lawsuit and sought assistance from the goddess Cliodhna. (Pretty.) The goddess told the beloved author to kiss the first stone he saw on his way to court, and lo and behold he was supes eloquent and he won his case, and the Pulitzer Prize. The Stone was then built into the castle walls. 

Another story has to do with Robert the Bruce, apparently gifting the stone to Cormac for his help in a battle that occurred like way before the latter was born at a time when neither of them would have been alive so we’re going to table that one for now.

Obviously all the stories are a load of bullshirt; the real reason we share stranger germs on a stone is because it’s The Thing To Do. So we did it. And this is not just some stone you can walk by and kiss as you tour the castle. Remember I said before, it’s part of a floor opening in the battlements. The Blarney Stone is across the open bit from where you stand, and it’s not on the ground floor. So to kiss it, you sit down on the edge, an assistant holds your torso, and you lean backwards and down so you Spider-Man kiss it while like in a wheel pose. It is super awkward to get into the right position and understand what you’re supposed to do with your body. And it is VERY scary. I am not scared of  heights (not more than is necessary) but I was very shaky when I performed this yoga of the insane. 

I’m glad I did The Thing but damn if I ever want to relive that. 

To let you get your breath back afterwards, the castle features a beautiful garden on its grounds, perfect for strolling around in the rain. 

And to remind you of the crazy thing you just did beforehand, all the plants are deadly.

So fun! Don’t eat poison!

We carried on our way through County Cork (I love saying that like the cast of The Ferryman) to another so fun and so Irish Must Do Thing – a stay at Ballymaloe. ​

 Ballymaloe House is a hotel and restaurant, and nearby they have a cookery school (that’s how we say it in the Isles) and a grain store and the most incredible garden I’ve ever seen. Like every single vegetable you could want, they have growing out there. Meanwhile my windowsill basil died. Ballymaloe is a beloved historical treasure, which Myrtle and Ivan Allen opened in 1964 to show off to the world Irish Country cuisine and hospitality. It’s the best place to stay when you’re out in the countryside because it’s like The Place, historic and beloved. Our room was so sweet and cozy and it felt so appropriate to stay there while in Ireland.

Ballymaloe is renowned for its five-course dinners and its roster of high caliber chefs and cooking students, so dinner was pretty nice. When we went, they weren’t super used to vegan accommodations but said that they of course could feed me. They started me off with a vegetable soup that was lovely (as really any vegetable soup is) and a salad with pomegranates, so even if it ended here I would have been happy. 

There was also great bread (more on that later!) so like, reals happy. As for my main course, it was a nonexciting but nonthreatening rice pilaf with spinach and roasted squash and a cranberry chutney jawn that did not really go. It was fine (I’m fiiine), but I think going back now they would be able to whip up something much more exciting.

And I did get a good dessert! Oh first up I got a palate cleanser of fruit sorbet, which is fun. You don’t get that all that often.

My real dessert though was a chocolate carrageenan pudding! Carrageenan is a seaweed that is used as a thickener. For the pudding, an Irish classic as we were told, they cook the seaweed quickly and then let it soak until it exudes lots of jelly-like substance (fun! not gross!) and then you take the jelly and mix it with milk and sugar and stuff. Mine was chocolate yay and topped with strawberries and dark chocolate ribbons. 

Overall it wasn’t the most interesting meal, but considering it was an accommodation at an institution, I was fine with it. It’s the whole experience you go there for, not just the food. At dinner that night, Myrtle Allen was seated right next to our table. She has recently passed away, so it was really special to get to meet her.

I was so excited about the carrageenan pudding being a real thing that I bought little bags of carrageenan in the Ballymaloe gift shop! We also bought a signed copy of Myrtle Allen’s cookbook (which I included a picture of because I had one). The best part of the gift shop was obviously the best part of anything on earth: the shop doggie. I pet the doggie for a while, along with two children that I did not talk to.

We also made a visit to the cooking school a few kilometers away. The grounds are lovely but pretty vast, and it wasn’t so lovely when we had to retrace all of our many steps to find our lost keys! The gardens there and on the main Ballymaloe property are real goals. I almost snatched some of the chard because it’s hard to find in London but I didn’t.

My favorite thing we did at Ballymaloe was take a cooking class! They have a few on offer and we decided to do the bread making class because we love bread so g-d much. It was so much fun. We made a few loaves of Irish soda bread to be served at that day’s breakfast, so now I know how to make that up right good. I should make that today. The recipe they use wasn’t vegan though, so they also had us made a really great brown bread so that there was bread I could eat at breakfast too. It was a suuuuper liquidy bread batter and they had me mix it by hand so it was hilarious but also like I was wearing long sleeves. I guess that was my bad though. Anyway bread is great. I was sad that we weren’t making loaves for our own taking but we still had several days of travel left so I guess it’s okay. 

So our time in County Cork was loverly, a great opportunity to disconnect from our day-to-day and enjoy nature. And rain. If you’re going to Ireland, you’re going to Blarney Castle probably, and if so, you should pay Ballymaloe a visit.