Steve travels #21: Freestyle hike part 5
My host (I never find out his name) has a nice house in the little town of Temir-Kanat. As we approach, he honks repeatedly to clear the road of small children, who are everywhere, playing in the semi-darkness.
Up the steps and I’m glad to get out of my boots, wringing out my socks. He shows me around. The bathroom doesn’t seem to have a bath, shower or toilet. In the living room there’s a boy playing Roblox on a laptop. The kitchen is really cosy, a big table with a kind of curved bench seat most of the way around. A couple more boys appear - he has 6 sons and a daughter, although I don’t get to meet all of them.
Dinner is pretty confusing for a westerner like me. He gives me a plate of a kind of noodle salad. There’s a big bowl of kind of deep-fried nothings, glass bowls of jars and other condiments, and a platter of sliced honeydew melon.
One of the boys is in charge of serving tea. He combines a little bit of tea from a teapot, a generous pour of hot milk from a saucepan, and water from a kettle, into a bowl. He’s very diligent.
Over time the spread keeps expanding: apples, apricots, nectarines, chocolates, pastries, and some strange little yellow-brown balls. I bite one - it’s sort of like a very tangy parmesan. I finish it, but the flavour is so intense I have to decline future offers.
It turns out you take the deep fried blobs and dip them in the bowls. The raspberry jam and cherry jam are self-explanatory and delicious. One bowl is very much like butter but with a different texture. And a couple of others I really have no idea about at all, except they taste pretty bland and I’d much rather have jam.
Meanwhile the honeydew melon is amazing, and the apricots are delicious as always. The tea is really hitting the spot, and once I get a chance to change out of my wet pants and put some warm socks on I’m very cosy and content. I make sure to let him know just how much I appreciate his kindness and generosity.
My host keeps finding videos of the landslide. It’s impressive and horrific. A huge section of the hill near the town near the town of Tura-Su completely gives way, caught on video. Lots of videos of the water, a policeman giving a statement. No one has been hurt, and I don’t hear mention of any property damage, but the road will be out of action for many months.
He asks me what I want his wife to cook for me when she gets home and I reassure him I’ve had plenty. He wanders off, and I’m left making stilted app-assisted conversation with three of the boys, ranging roughly from 7 to 14 perhaps. And playing with the tiny grey kitten who likes to attack my feet.
It’s actually really lovely. I show them photos of the hike and ask if they like going up into the mountains, which they do. I tell them that I have hiked in lots of places and that this place is just incredible, and that more people should come here.
Bed is a predictably thin mattress on the floor, in a room where the door doesn’t really close, and I’m awoken when mum comes home with a screaming toddler, but I’m very happy to be here.
Roosters doing a passable rendition of the theme from Get Smart wake me up early. Breakfast is a similar spread with one key difference. Instead of a noodle salad, he brings from the fridge a huge plate of cooked beef chops. Large chunks of meat on bone, heaped on a plate. He lets me pick on of the smaller ones, and passes me a hefty knife. Didn’t I read about this happening in medieval taverns?
His wife whips up a quick tomato and cucumber salad, and finally I notice what is missing: plates. There are no plates. Not last night, not now. Everyone sticks a fork straight into the communal salad.
She’s brought in what looks like a big bucket of fresh milk, which goes straight on the stove.
We head to the car to set off, and I take stock of the menagerie: a couple of cows, a dog, a flock of chickens, and…turkeys! These are the first I have seen in the country, or indeed, the first mention of turkeys I’ve seen anywhere. Curious. All the animals are tied up or otherwise enclosed a bit more tightly than seems strictly necessary.
There’s a swing made from an old armchair, and some home-made climbing equipment slash ropes course that has seen better days. It all looks like a pretty good life though, and there are lots of laughs and smiles all around.
I’m surprised to see his car is a Subaru Forester. An incredibly practical car for these roads, but instead mostly you see clapped out old sedans from eastern European makers. But it’s impressive just how far people can get these little cars up extremely poor mountain tracks.
But before I get a chance to enjoy the ride, the plan abruptly changes and he’s too busy to drive me, and calls me a taxi instead. I pay him the 2000 soms, the bulk of which he gives the driver, and with just a quick handshake, suddenly I’m off. In a clapped out eastern European sedan, with a cracked windshield and faulty door handle, just as things should be.
The dirt road is in immaculate condition, however, and it’s a pretty quick journey. Most of the creeks still look well swollen, but down from their peak. It’s sunny and blue skies. I ponder briefly how things would have been had I spent the night at that farmhouse, but all things considered, I’m pretty happy how it all panned out.
Now, the only question: can I get back to the guesthouse in time to grab my stuff and move onto Bishkek today? Another night in Bokonbaevo is definitely more than I can bear.