Skiing in Kyrgyzstan

Kyrgyzstan is 96% mountain and 4% dill fields, so it’s not at all surprising that last weekend I found myself on top of the world on the Tien-Shan mountain range.  My work colleague and traveling companion, Sara, was the motivating force behind the trip to higher altitudes and another work colleague, Ulan, helped arrange transportation and lodging.  So, after finishing the work week, Sara and I loaded into an uncertain looking Audi for a two-hour drive to Karakol for a weekend of skiing. 

Our driver, Bolot, had us humming down the road nicely when another car passed us blasting its horn, its passengers pointing at our car.  After a brief moment of confusion, we realized there might be something wrong with the car, so Bolot pulled to the side of the road.  Sure enough, the back right tire was going flat.  Bolot jumped to action, grabbing a foot pump from the trunk to give the tire some life.  Unfortunately, the tire continued to lose air, so we drove a short ways to the next town and found a spot for Bolot to put on the spare.  We were back on the road quickly—perhaps too quickly, due to lug nuts that loosened and tightened without great effort.

By 11:30am we were at the Green Yard Guest House in Karakol—a very clean and welcoming guest house.  After some tea and pastries, we climbed into a hired Honda Odyssey for a 30 minute drive to the ski resort.  But our taxi troubles were not over yet.  It’s no oversight on Honda’s part not to promote their Odyssey minivan as an all-terrain mountain climbing vehicle.  We crept cautiously up the side of the mountain on snow covered roads and were soon stuck in an icy rut.  After some effort, we advanced 20 feet only to lose traction again.  No matter how much he spun the tires, our driver couldn’t continue forward, so instead he put the car in reverse to find traction and gain momentum to overcome the slippery spots.  We reversed 20 feet…without luck…so we reversed another 20 feet…without luck…and finally we retreated several hundred yards down the mountain in reverse before making another run at the slippery slopes.  After 30 minutes of unproductive slip-slide-and-away—with several vehicles passing us and easily zipping up the hill—we somehow found just enough traction to creep up the hill without sliding off the side of the road.

Once at the ski hill, we had to overcome language barriers to figure out how to rent skis and buy lift tickets.  Thanks to patience and the power of pantomime, we were soon fitted with equipment, armed with lift tickets, and on our way to the ski lift.

...Perhaps this is a good time to mention that I’ve only been skiing a handful of times and before this adventure to Kyrgyzstan, I've never skied outside the great state of Wisconsin, which any amateur geography scholar knows does not boast the tallest of mountains.  In short, my skiing experience consists of navigating glorified bunny hills, most recently nearly 15 years ago.

Thanks to a cocktail of hubris and naivety, I had decided that my fitness and athleticism would easily overcome lack of experience and more than a decade since I was last on skis.  But my confidence was shaken and stirred on that first ride up the mountain.  It didn’t help that the ski lift lifted us 50 feet above the surface of the hill—my skis dangling freely over tall pine trees and my mind racing with images of faulty Kyrgyz equipment dropping us out of the air to crash unceremoniously onto the mountain.  But the real problem was seeing the ski slope that would serve as my path back to the bottom of the hill.  In a word, it was steep.  (In another word, it was intimidating.) 

High above the slopes of the Tien-Shan Mountains

The fantastical images of plummeting from the ski lift were replaced with the very real images of me trying to manage such a steep slope without sliding out of control and breaking my leg or smashing my face into a tree. 

One of the stunning views--with the slope in the foreground and the mountain peaks in the background.

As the ski lift took us higher and higher up the mountain side, my confidence was lifted slightly by seeing other skiers swooshing casually down the slopes.  Another confidence boost came when the hill flattened out and we saw that part way down the hill there was an opportunity to take the ski lift back to the top of the hill.  Sara and I decided to use the flatter top portion of the hill—from the upper most drop off point to the mid-level ski lift pick-up point—to practice before continuing onto the steep and intimidating portion of the mountain.

On top of the world.

After avoiding injury during a very cautious first run and several more runs that helped build confidence, it was time to face the rest of the mountain.  It was time whether we liked it or not.  Because of an early sunset, the ski lifts stopped running at 3:45, so we were forced to face the steep slopes on the rest of the hill.  I took no chances, cutting across the side of the steep slope with my skis perpendicular to the slope.  Slowly, slowly I crisscrossed the mountain, digging my front ski into the side of the hill to defy the strong gravitational pull.

Sara prepares to tackle the mountain.

Finally near the end of the run, I was able to point my skis forward, release towards the bottom of the hill, and enjoy the ride—happy and relieved to have survived the mountain at Karakol.  My toes were frozen but my spirits were high after conquering Tien-Shan.

Slow and steady wins the race...

Familiarity in Foreign Lands

Exactly one month after returning to the United States from Palestine, I found myself once again trekking across the globe.  My destination: Kyrgyzstan.  My purpose: to help prepare a new group of trainers deliver life skills training to Kyrgyz youth.

As I write this I’m at the Talisman Village Resort, which is located on the 10^th largest lake in the world by volume—Issyk-Kul.  Towering above in the near distance are the snowy peaks of the Tian Shan Mountains that separate China from Kyrgyzstan.  It’s a lovely place to conduct a training program and has the added benefit of being relatively isolated, which means the trainees can’t wander off on shopping tours in the middle of the day.

Talisman Village Cottages in the shadows of the Tian Shan Mountains

Issyk-Kul, the mountains, and an amusement park

I’m here with two co-workers.  The three of us arrived at the Bishkek airport in the pre-dawn hours Sunday morning after more than a dozen hours of air travel, and we promptly jumped in a car for the four-hour drive to Issyk-Kul.  The drive led us down dark snow covered highways and at times I worried that our sleepy driver was close to steering us off the road.  Alas, we safely arrived at Talisman Village Resort at 8am as the sun was finally starting to lighten the East sky.  Breakfast was to be served at 9am, which meant fighting the temptation to sleep in a chilly hotel room for what seemed like an eternity.  (Crawling into bed to find warmth was not an option as I knew that sleep would quickly overcome me and I would miss breakfast, so I sat shivering on the sofa through the 60 minutes of purgatory.)

Luckily, breakfast was worth staying awake for but as soon as I returned to the room I could not resist slipping under the covers of the bed for much needed warmth…and sleep.  I dragged myself from sleep and the warm comfort of the bed for lunch at 1pm but returned directly to warmth and slumber for the remainder of the afternoon.

Thankfully, I came prepared with layers of insulation, so dealing with chilly temperatures —inside and out—has been manageable this week.  But there are more interesting things than the chilly conditions to report, namely:

Nightlife in the Village:

As mentioned above, the Talisman Village Resort is relatively isolated, so the thirty of us are all basically stuck here for the week.  Fortunately, that’s not stopping us from enjoying an active nightlife scene.  Apparently, on the first day of the four-day training the training participants divided themselves into four groups based on their cities of origin.  Each city was assigned a night for which they were responsible to provide post-dinner entertainment meaning that each night we have been graced with unabashed performances and amusement.  The entertainment has ranged from sweet and sappy to poignant to downright bizarre and borderline inappropriate.  Among the activities:

• Skits based on Russian and Kyrgyz folklore
• An elaborate multi-act play following the life of a character called ‘Red Socks’ who overcame a difficult childhood with the help of life skills training to become a well-adjusted, successful adult
• (It’s no small coincidence that our purpose this week is to prepare the group as life skills trainers)
• A dance competition—my partner and I got third place
• An apple eating contest involving teams of two that tried to eat a dangling apple without using their hands
• Poetry recital
• Fortune telling
• And, of course, drinking shots of vodka

Unimpossible dancing

"Red Socks" after life skills training

It takes a village to harvest a turnip.

As I write this, we have one final night of entertainment ahead, and I’m equally scared and curious to find out what’s in store. 

Jet Lag:

After spending most of my first day here sleeping, I haven’t had much success in dreamland.  I wasn’t overly disappointed or surprised to wake up around 4am my first few days here, but my last two mornings have started at 2am.  Each morning I emerge from sleep with the initial impression that I’ve had a long rest and that my 5:30am alarm will soon urge me out of bed.  Each morning I’ve been surprised to find myself 3 ½ hours ahead of schedule.  Fortunately or not, I’m easily able to put the ‘extra’ time to use—mostly to make final preparations for the training day ahead, but also to catch up on other work tasks, to complete a thorough series of stretches, and to blog.

I thought I was hallucinating these swans due to jet lag.

Still Amazed by the Obvious:

During my unimpossible life, I’ve been very fortunate to travel extensively and meet people with vastly different backgrounds, living in diverse climates, cultures, and societies.  Through these experiences, I’ve learned that many people around the world share common characteristics: they are kind, generous, thoughtful, helpful, and fun.  So I really shouldn’t be too amazed that I’ve met so many Kyrgyz this week that also share these characteristics.  But I am.  And I’m very grateful for the hospitality and humor.

Two months ago I had no clue that I would visit Kyrgyzstan.  But it turned out to be just what I needed—a nice pre-holiday reminder that there are good people filling this planet and thus there is hope for our otherwise troubled world.

On the beach at Issyk-Kul lake, the future is bright.