Yes You’ll ‘Sweat’ from All the Anxiety You’ll Feel While Viewing this Distressing Playby Randi / July 4, 2019Muscat Susie, Muscat Sam: Oh Man, Did We Enjoy Oman
Oman wasn’t on our list for very long – in fact, it might be the fastest we’ve ever decided to go somewhere and then gone. Last year we heard several unrelated wonderful reports about this gem of a country in the Middle East and then suddenly, we were off! (And I was going to be so close to Chandler next door in Yemen, living it up with that rando he met on the plane and/or at 15 Yemen Road.) Between the charming little city of Muscat and the incredible wadis (like my favorite place, Wadi Shab) and sinkholes we swam in around the country, we had a fabulous time. Whether you’re an explorer, a history buff, a water-feature-lover (me), or just in the mood for a super fancy resort vacation (but don’t only stay in the resort), I highly recommend a visit to Oman.
You will definitely need to rent a car, which sucks for people like me who hate driving, especially in foreign lands where you don’t read the language. So, after our super pleasant and short flight from Dubai (which you read about last week, right?) on Swiss Air (which was outfitted like an old professor; I don’t know something about the light wooden detail and the tweed vibe on that plane read ‘professor’), we landed at Muscat International Airport SUPER late at night and SUPER needing to do two specific things: 1) get a SIM card for the phone, and 2) pick up our rental car. You’d think these would be simple since they are most everyone’s 2 things to do! Both the SIM and the Budget rental car people were the. worst. ever. So rude and they took forever so we were well into the wee hours of the morning before we were on our way to the hotel. And that wasn’t even the worst part: I had a full panic attack driving to the hotel because I am the navigatrix, and Google maps had NO IDEA ABOUT MUSCAT. Just never heard about it, I guess. So I was flipping, and I mean flipping, out because I had no idea what to tell Z to do and we kept getting farther away from the city center and we don’t read Arabic so it was terrifying.
Finally somehow we found our hotel. (If you’re driving, print out directions from the airport just in case your maps app also decides it needs 24 hours to start working properly.) During our time exploring, we stayed at the Intercontinental Muscat, which sounds fance because the IC usually is, but this was (known in advance to be) a quite dingy one, with motel-looking rooms. It was more affordable this way, and it was undergoing an extensive remodel while we were there, so while we were lucky to snag the lower prices, we missed out on the nicer rooms. But since we were going to be busy sightseeing (and driving around the country) all day, we didn’t need to be anywhere fancy. No, we were saving that for the second half of our trip, which you’ll see in the next Oman post.
After sleeping, omg sleeping is THE BEST, we explored Muscat the next morning, first by making our way up to the fort area at the north of the city. It’s like a bunch of forts and government buildings and noooo one around, which was cool for exploring and…interesting for my usual fear of “has the world I Am Legended or something?”
Muscat curves along the water (the Gulf of Oman) with various corniches lined with mosques, souks, and cafes (and banks and all other markings of civilization, except we don’t have Habib Bank which is a shame because it’s so close to my favorite thing to shout (HABIBI!) and if there was a Habibi bank I’d be like here take my money). What I consider the main drag of the waterfront, along Al Bahri Road, is right where Mutrah Souk and the Gold Souk are located.
You have to pay to park along the corniche, and while there are plenty of spots, it’s kind of annoying because it’s those newfangled machines (I hate MACHINES) and they only take 50p coins (I know it’s ‘p’ but I don’t know their abbreviations for the smaller denominations) so you have to go buy a tea or something in a nearby cafe and ask for change in 50p coins. But now you know so you can just make sure to have them handy! Who says you don’t learn from me?
I guess this is as good a time as any to share some DEETS about their currency in Oman. It’s the Omani rial! One rial breaks into 1000 baisa, so when I said 50p coins you (like me originally) probably brained that as ‘half their dollar or whatever’, but it’s not half, it’s 1/20!!!! That’s rial small! I hope I did that math right otherwise I’ll be rially embarrassed. One rial is about $2.6 USD, so 10 rials is like $26 and you can generally figure out whether most things are cheap or pricey knowing that. As a destination, it’s cheaper than most of Western Europe, but more expensive than I assumed. You can find super cheap food and stuff but overall it’s much less of a post-Dubai steal than I wanted.
Before or after exploring the coastline and the souks, you’ll want to hit the main cultural museum to learn about Oman and Omani culture. That’s why you’re here! The very nice and informative museum is called the Bait Al Zubair, opened to the public since 1998. Comprising six different buildings and lots of outdoor space, the museum features exhibits on Omani culture and heritage in terms of dress, jewelry, weapons, food, history, furniture, money, housing, and more, including two big ass cannons.
We learned all sorts of info from the museum, but honestly the most compelling info-graphic was about the first postal stamp. Whoever wrote the sign explaining how Britain issued the first government-printed postage stamp on May 6, 1840 was INTO the history of stamps. They honestly sounded like a nerdier version of me, using all caps and everything to make a point! I KNOW! In a museum! It was adorbs. They were like ‘before 1840 the RECEIVER of the letter had to pay for the costs of delivery, but then Mister Sir Rowland Hill became British Postmaster General and he thought the SENDER should pay the price and that was the first time this happened aren’t stamps EXHILARATING?’ no but it’s a good change, Rowland. Could you imagine having to pay for the shitty mail you get? I’d be like hard pass.
Maybe you want to learn about Muscat and not the history of stamps in the U.K. So that means it’s time for our favorite Laughfrodisiac travel feature, your completely accurate history lesson.
So Oman is a Sultanate, along with Brunei and parts of Indonesia and Malaysia, which makes it baby’s first Sultanate visited! I did not see that pudgy little doofus who let Jafar manipulate him, no I did not, I would have given him a talking to. A talking down to, if you will, because I’m still mad at his initial treatment of his daughter and also because he so smol. (I’m OBVIOUSLY joking, Omani officials, and would never speak ill of your actual sultan who is also prime minister? It’s an absolute monarchy over there. (that’s the actual phrase I’m not saying like oh it’s an absolute monarchy; no it’s an ‘absolute monarchy’ it’s a thing.)) My fave thing is that there’s no clear answer about where the name came from (probably someone just saying ‘oh mannn’ like I did) but some think it’s related to writing from Pliny the Elder, which tickles me because I forking LOVE Pliny the Elder, one of my fave elders.
Muscat is Oman’s capital and largest city, and archaeological finds (fishermen graves, so sinister) date the city, an important port, as having communities since 6,000 years before Jesus was like ‘oh hayyyy oh you don’t care about me.’ And then pre-Iranians invaded dun dun dunnn and then they all converted to Islam and then there were all these battles between different tribes and then Marcos Baghdatis’s people invaded (not Cyprus, Baghdad…I see how this gets confusing but stick with me) but then Omani tribes were like gtfO Marcos, it’s Wimbledon time, and then power shifted between native tribes for a bit and all this time the importance of Muscat as a port city between powerful civilizations grew and grew, causing some animosity from people not by the city/water, like how England hates Londoners because we’re the most important.
But then in the 1500s the Portuguese were like ‘o bom dia I’ma gonna takeover you nowah’ (the Portuguese sounded Italian!) and they fought but the Portuguese won and they were like ‘Muito prazer em conhecê-lo but I’ma burna your city to the groundah!’ and they did. They ruled till later in the 1600s when the Imam was finally like FORK THIS and sent troops to Muscat and toppled the power of the Portos. Then there were civil wars which are NEVER good and the Persians kept interfering and trying to take over like ‘oh but itsa my turn to ah rule you!’ (they sound Italian too) but they even though they didn’t get the chance they still contributed to the whole region being destabilized which is rude. The need for cohesive rule let the Al Bu Sa’id dynasty emerge and rule ever since, but not without lots of dramaaaz like even in the last century there was a civil war, from friction between the sultan and the imams and all the interior tribes being like what gives and the sultan asked the British to help quell the rebels (they’re good at that, and stamps), and then the sultan’s son, current ruler Qaboos bin Said al Said, famously staged a bloodless coup to take the seat of power from his father, with the help of the British. It was a very William vs. Charles in the play King Charles III situation.
Well that’s enough history for lunatics so let’s go to one of Qaboos’s favorite places, the mosque. How do I know it’s one of his favorite places? It’s called the Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque. Construction of the mosque took six years seven months in the 1990s, which is fun because the American version, Six Days Seven Nights, also took place in the 1990s.
It’s an incredibly beautiful, tranquil place, despite having so many tourists visiting – it’s so big that you’re not even bothered by other people (ew other people). Civilians like me (non-Muslims) are allowed to visit the Grand Mosque in the mornings from Saturday to Thursday, so make sure to plan accordingly. You must cover all your damn skin, which you should do in the serious sunshine anyway, but women must also cover their hair. And they are serious about this. I had the pictured headscarf dutifully wrapping me up, but I have hella long and unmanageable hair, and a lock of it fell through the bottom at the back, and a guard yelled at Z to tell me to fix it. (Obviously he spoke to Z and not me, because the man is in charge of the women, because religion.) The language barrier made for a fun exercise in ‘but my hair is covered!’ arguments, not being able to see that a tiny piece was visible on my back. Stupid sinful lady hair!
Aside from mean old guard, it was a really lovely visit. It’s confusing to know where to park and where to enter properly, but we just followed other people from the first parking lot we found and figured it out.
Aside from food-related activities and hotel swimming, which come in their own post (the fun one with the previously hinted resort vacation), that’s pretty much what we did in Muscat! From our base in the city, we took several day trips out into the country, to various sinkholes for more swimming (yay!), to Wadi Shab (my FAVORITE part of this trip (you’ll see that in its own post, with the sinkholes)), and to Nizwa, for the Nizwa Fort and Souqs. Although we enjoyed Nizwa Fort, it was a long way to go (about 2 hours each way) on really busy roads, when we could have used that time to see a lot more educational stuff left in Muscat. I’d only recommend going if you’re heading out of Muscat to stay in another town, or if you have a ton of time.
Even though we admit we probably should have used this day better, it was nice to see the Nizwa Fort. It was built in the 1600s by the Imam Sultan (both things!) Bin Saif Al Ya’rubi, but the underlying structure of this gigantic fort dates back to the 1200s. It’s really architecturally impressive, with a giant drum tower, enormous underground foundations, and endless sections and rooms on different levels showcasing all the good stuff you normally find in defensive structures: battlements, turrets, cannons, food storage, housing, jails, and literally MURDER HOLES: if the windy stairs and secret passages and defensive attacks weren’t enough to impede enemies, there were shafts above each set of doors that people poured boiling oil or water through to stop them. Murder holes. Cool guys. Can’t you just hear Mindy St. Clair going “I call it my murder hole.”
Entry to the Nizwa Fort cost us 5 rial each, so like almost $30 for the both of us, which is LOADS more than any other tourist attraction in Oman cost us. So that kind of bothered us, even though this was cool.
It was a super hot and sunny day when we visited, which was rough because so much of it is outside in the blazing heat and it’s SO climby. As I said before, the various sections are on all different levels, which means lots of stairs. And just when you think you’ve gotten as high as you can possibly go, to the top section, you’re met with these stairs:
Sure they just go up and then down again, but there’s a VIEW UP THERE. We had to do it! Fun fact: There were four sets of these triangle staircases around this tower, and we climbed up and down each one, to capture all the different views.
The Nizwa Fort did have the g-d coolest bathroom signs I’ve ever seen in my life, so that’s something. Look what the men got, it’s so badass.
Afte the fort, we planned to visit the famous souqs, but they were closed! It’s okay though, we weren’t going to buy vegetables, although it was nice to see where my fave souq would have been.
So we had some fun learning about Muscat and Oman, and the posts to come will be about even more fun stuff! Stay tuned.
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Mostar, Bosnia & Herzegovina: The Bridge to Beat All Bridges
Early one morning after several days in Sarajevo, we took a rickety, smoke-filled train (again!) to the tiny town of Mostar, down in the Herzegovina region of the country. This route had even more beautiful views.
I know!
This is the reason for going to Mostar
Mostar is most famous because of its devastatingly beautiful bridge, Stari Most. Because of it, and because it’s a pleasant (now) little town, it is a very popular tourist stop. In the old city section and of course on the bridge, you’ll be caught in throngs of tourists, most of whom are over from Dubrovnik for the day. (It makes an easy day trip from there, which all the tour companies can seduce you with, but I recommend coming down from Sarajevo so you can see more of the country.)
I didn’t care about the crowds, because this site is so lovely and so historically interesting. Stari Most, or the Old Bridge, was built in the 16th century and was a marvel for its time, “the longest only single-span stone arch in the world” (so says my Rick Steves guidebook in an unattributed quote). The strong bridge stood up during the World Wars, becoming a lasting symbol of Herzegovina.
Despite having withstood so many foes, the 1990s war proved too much for the bridge. As bombing hit Mostar in 1993, the bridge suffered direct hits. Then one final shell hit, and the people watched as the symbol of their history and home collapsed into the Neretva River.
I didn’t care about the crowds, because this site is so lovely and so historically interesting. Stari Most, or the Old Bridge, was built in the 16th century and was a marvel for its time, “the longest only single-span stone arch in the world” (so says my Rick Steves guidebook in an unattributed quote). The strong bridge stood up during the World Wars, becoming a lasting symbol of Herzegovina.
Despite having withstood so many foes, the 1990s war proved too much for the bridge. As bombing hit Mostar in 1993, the bridge suffered direct hits. Then one final shell hit, and the people watched as the symbol of their history and home collapsed into the Neretva River.
The view from the bridge in Mostar (not to be confused with the play Scarlett Johansson won a Tony for #trivia)
Although the destruction of the bridge was strategic, as it cut off supplies for those living in the city, it really was a brutal symbolic devastation.
Thankfully, the bridge was reconstructed after the war. Stones from the original bridge were salvaged from the water (by divers from the Hungarian army) and used in the rebuilding. The rest was cut from the original quarry, and workers rebuilt using the same technology as used in the 16th century, to guarantee authenticity. It’s one of those rare cases where the reconstructed monument is just as impressive as the original would have been, but perhaps even more meaningful.
Thankfully, the bridge was reconstructed after the war. Stones from the original bridge were salvaged from the water (by divers from the Hungarian army) and used in the rebuilding. The rest was cut from the original quarry, and workers rebuilt using the same technology as used in the 16th century, to guarantee authenticity. It’s one of those rare cases where the reconstructed monument is just as impressive as the original would have been, but perhaps even more meaningful.
Walking around the old town, you’ll probably feel like you do in most heavily touristed European city centers, with vendors trying to hock whatever goods they can sell you with the town name written on them, and at least one gelato cart on every corner. (The good news – several of the carts had accidentally vegan fruit flavors! One English-speaking vendor even answered my “Does this flavor have milk in it?” with “No, all of our fruit flavors are made with water.” Pretty awesome. Just ask, though, because just a few yards away another vendor told me, “All ice cream has milk!” with a dumb look on her dumb face.)
As in Sarajevo, it’s worth paying for a short tour, because odds are your guide lived here during the war. I called Alma Elezovic (aelezovic@gmail.com), recommended in the Rick Steves guide, but she was busy so she sent her son Yaz. He was fantastic. He seriously spoke English better than I do, and spoke it with a perfect (and east coast?) American accent. I asked where he spent his time in America and he said he’s never been. Linguists, go study him. It was only 20 euro per person for more than 2 hours (which is all it takes to get around the old town), and included entry into a mosque.
As in Sarajevo, it’s worth paying for a short tour, because odds are your guide lived here during the war. I called Alma Elezovic (aelezovic@gmail.com), recommended in the Rick Steves guide, but she was busy so she sent her son Yaz. He was fantastic. He seriously spoke English better than I do, and spoke it with a perfect (and east coast?) American accent. I asked where he spent his time in America and he said he’s never been. Linguists, go study him. It was only 20 euro per person for more than 2 hours (which is all it takes to get around the old town), and included entry into a mosque.
The former front line of Mostar
This street was the front line during the war. Yaz said that on any day, bodies would fill the streets. Relatives were too scared of being gunned down by snipers to retrieve the bodies.
The future site of the Mostar Synagogue, on the former front line
This lot is the future home of the Mostar Synagogue. During the war, Jews acted as intermediaries, crossing the front line to transport supplies and information. As thanks for their heroism, the city offered to donate any piece of land the Jewish community wanted, and they chose this symbolic spot right on the former front line.
Doesn’t get old
Don’t try this!
You’ll probably see young men in bathing suits (*cough* Speedos *cough*) on Stari Most hustling tourists for money. They are soliciting donations to jump into the river, which is dangerous not only because of the height but because the temperature drops about 50 degrees from the bridge to the water. The divers will wet themselves first to reset their body temperature (and probably will again after they jump heyoooo!).
Outside the old town, you’ll see what is so prevalent around Bosnia-Herzegovina – the juxtaposition of the new, modern rebuilding and the decrepit, destroyed buildings from the war. It’s quite shocking to see such buildings next to each other, isn’t it?
The food isn’t great for vegans, but here’s a recap of what I ate.
It’s worth spending a night here so you can take your time, walk outside of the touristy center, and enjoy Mostar in the evening. We stayed at a lovely pension just a few minutes from the bridge, called Pansion Cardak. The woman who runs it, Suzana, is the nicest ever. The rooms (four in total) are clean, simple, and affordable.
I highly recommend that you fit a trip to Mostar into your itinerary. Stari Most is really so beautiful, and the interesting history of the small town is worth learning about. Mostar makes a great day trip from Dubrovnik, or better yet a stopover from Sarajevo to Dubrovnik or Montenegro.
It’s worth spending a night here so you can take your time, walk outside of the touristy center, and enjoy Mostar in the evening. We stayed at a lovely pension just a few minutes from the bridge, called Pansion Cardak. The woman who runs it, Suzana, is the nicest ever. The rooms (four in total) are clean, simple, and affordable.
I highly recommend that you fit a trip to Mostar into your itinerary. Stari Most is really so beautiful, and the interesting history of the small town is worth learning about. Mostar makes a great day trip from Dubrovnik, or better yet a stopover from Sarajevo to Dubrovnik or Montenegro.
One last view of Mostar, taken at dawn
Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan: A Capital Made of Statues & Stories (Go On & Tell Me What They Mean) (Part 4)
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!
Catch up on the previous Kyrgyzstan posts!
Crossing the Torugart Pass; Tash Rabat
Part 1: Back in the Yurt Camps
Part 2: Issyk Kul and Kyzart Village
Part 3: Jeti Oguz, Karakol, Cholpan Ata
Crossing the Torugart Pass; Tash Rabat
Part 1: Back in the Yurt Camps
Part 2: Issyk Kul and Kyzart Village
Part 3: Jeti Oguz, Karakol, Cholpan Ata
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.
There’s a good amount of green space and parks in the city center, and lots of statues and arts
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?
this field did not have my friend arbus
however it did have this giant f-ing hoe (bag)
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.
tower of doom
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.
yeah like that
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.
well I’m not entirely sure if this was one of the war ones but it looks like it right, and odds are good
this one definitely looks like war stuff
this one is definitely about the war. It’s in a whole memorial square in the city center, near the arches pictured at the top
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.
giant lenin giant lenin giant lenin
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.
why aren’t they ever for grown ups
i just wanted to share a picture of this pretty flower square I SWEAR TO MANAS that that white figure in the background in the hat was NOT there in real life wtf???
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?
Someone got fiiiiired.
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.
the next night we had a hotel room buffet dinner from Globus with this ‘asparagus’ and the potato wedges you can sort of see and a huge cabbage salad and bread literally one of my favorite dinners ever 😛
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.
lolol ‘real American’ okay sure I’ll take it!
Speaking of ‘what Kyrgyz people think America is’, here’s the peanut butter they had for sale. CRACKING UP.
THOSE ARE TWO DIFFERENT STATES
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.
look at those freaking snow capped mountains! can’t get over
Alarcha is gorge-ous
always screaming about something this bish (actually sneezing is more likely)
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.
THEEEE HIIIILLLLS ARE ALIIIIIIIVE
Still can’t believe things like this exist in this world
troubled little bridge over even more troubled water
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.
SQUIRREL
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!
2 Comments
OH-Man those pics of you the best
Did I see the infamous millytweet read your blog ?
Beautiful city