People had warned me about India, about its intensity and volume and scams. I was cocky, thinking that after all of my travelling it wouldn’t phase me. But it did. India was bloody hard work. And it was delicious in its reward.
I saw my time in India as an introduction to the country, as a brief exploration on my way over to Nepal. I wasn’t trying to see it all, or understand it all. In fact, I had no real aim whilst there. I was simply present in India for 2.5 weeks, letting all it had to offer wash over me. So don’t expect any interesting history insights from this post! Perhaps a different mindset would have been better. I feel like if you travel to India you need to really travel to India. You need to have a proper plan, you need to have done your research beforehand, you need to have read up on the history. Because once you’re there? You’ll have no time for anything other than simply being there.
Crazy, filled to the brim with people, dirty, filled to the brim with life.
I walked out of the metro station and was introduced to India - the warmth of the air and the smells, the loudness of cars honking, the bustle, the colours. I had the biggest grin on my face as I walked the short distance to the hostel, peering at the street food. I arrived to the hostel at 8am and couldn’t check-in until 1pm, but a truly wonderful man let me sleep in his (empty) bed in the meantime. I really love travellers. The best part of Delhi was being surrounded by other travellers again, and I was really lucky in having the best group of people to explore with. Together we tackled the craziness of Old Delhi, where our noses were assaulted by spices from the market and our tastebuds were wooed by the first of many delicious meals; the Akshardam temple, where we were impressed by its scale but strangely disappointed to learn that it was built in 2005; and Humayun’s Tomb which was made my favourite by its jungle interior and multitudes of hawks and kites flying overhead. The narrow, pedestrian streets of Delhi are what make it in my opinion. Every inch of street real estate is taken up with restaurants, grocery shops, street food carts, repair shops and tea (or chai) stands. People crawl over the potholed road like ants. Mopeds (or scootys) weave through, upsetting the natural flow. The air quality was atrocious most of the time. There was an appalling amount of poverty in Delhi. The streets of Old Delhi were lined with homeless people, often with disabilities. People put themselves in positions that you would only do if you were completely desperate, for example a young man who only had the use of one arm pulling himself along the ground through an insanely busy market street, people having to step over him. The dirt and poverty were everywhere. I can understand why people don’t love Delhi, and I wouldn’t say I loved it either. But I liked it. It was a crazy city, but I was allowed to move amongst the craziness and just witness it. No one cared about me, they were too busy cycling ricksaws, carrying huge sacks on their head, shepherding children, conducting business deals. I liked Delhi.
The yoga capital, at the foot of the Himalayas, felt softly disingenuous.
I heard about this place once I’d reached Delhi, and was sold after the phrase “yoga capital”. I loved practicing yoga here. I’ve gotten into the habit of practicing daily whilst travelling, and being able to do it on the terrace of my hostel, looking out at the mountains and the river Ganga was beautiful. The classes I took were challenging and exhilarating. There was something so special about practicing yoga in India that I wasn’t fully expecting. The town was also nice, a lot quieter than Delhi of course, but still with a bit of chaos made up of cows and mopeds and shop keepers. It was nice to be in nature, but it wasn’t quite as calm and natural as I’d hoped. There was a lot of rubbish and the town was quite built up. The Ashrams (centres for meditation and yoga) seemed quite commercial, and the aarti and satsang we attended (a worship of the river and spiritual Q and A respectively) were led by an extremely american woman who gave off strong cult leader vibes. The main bridge of the river Ganga, connecting the two sides of the town, was closed meaning the only way across was a long walk to the next bridge or a boat ride. The men running the boat service were dishonest and just nasty people which really took away from the spiritual atmosphere. We went white water rafting which was fun. I spent Valentine’s Day here which is my favourite day of the year, and very much enjoyed treating myself to a delicious breakfast and some new jewellery!
The pink city, dirty, hot.
Jaipur should be more pleasant to visit than it is. The buildings are commonly pink, made of the local pink stone. There are so many palaces (Wind palace, Water palace, City palace) and temples (Monkey temple, Sun temple…) and forts (Amber fort, Jaigarh fort, Nahargarh fort). The only one that was especially beautiful was the Amber fort, which has a hall of mirrors that is undeniably impressive. Both the City palace and Amber fort were mazes of courtyards with open-sided halls in the middle, where the King would have public assemblies. These were beautiful. As a foreigner in Jaipur you often had the feeling you had a target on your back. The shouting from tuktuk drivers, beggars and shop keepers was relentless. The two tuktuk drivers I did have in Jaipur both seemed to be spiritual teachers, and they spent the journeys spouting all sorts of life advice.
Come for the Taj Mahal, leave quickly after!
The Taj Mahal is pretty cool, but how much of that is because it’s The Taj Mahal and how much because of the actually building is debatable. Either way, I felt something flutter in my belly when I first set eyes on it. I enjoyed visiting it at sunrise, even if it was so hazy we couldn’t actually see the sunrise. Along with another girl, I explored the small residential streets around the Taj and we saw the daily life of India. Young children playing with stray puppies on the street. Old children walking back from school, shouting interesting english phrases at us (for example, “you’re hot and sexy” and slightly ruder ones…). Women carrying items on their heads. Laundry hanging down buildings.
The Holiest city, burning bodies, strange calmness.
Varanasi is an intense place in its purpose. It is the Holiest city in India and Hindus come here to openly cremate their loved ones as its believed if the body is washed in the river Ganga and cremated here, the soul will reach Nirvana and not be reincarnated. Some bodies are not cremated for a few different reasons, their bodies are tied to a weight and dropped directly into the river instead. High priests because they are too holy; pregnant women because they carry a not fully-formed life inside; young children because they have not yet committed any sins; lepers as the water is believed to purify them; and people bitten by a cobra (not sure on the reason for this one!). The narrow streets back from the river are filled with cafes and street food and textile shops. As you stroll along you need to be ready to jump into a doorway on hearing the sound of bells as this signifies a body is on its way down the street, being carried on a bamboo stretcher and covered in orange fabric. There are two Ghats (steps down to the river) where the cremations take place, one big and one small. Nothing can really prepare you for going to visit these. I sat on the steps of the larger one, looking down at the 10 or so small fires where bodies burnt. The heat was intense, and I could feel it on the side of my face. The smoke filled my nose and mouth. My eyes were locked on the torso of a man burning. A mouthful of spit flew over my shoulder, from the man sat above me, splattering on the ground and breaking my gaze. Bodies waiting to be burnt lay on the ground, covered in the orange sheets, with cows and goats roaming amongst them, stopping to sniff and being shooed away by the family members. The ground was covered with ash from the wood and the bodies. Members of the Aghor religion strip to just a sheet covering their waist and rub the ash over their bodies and faces. Back from the Ghat the streets are filled with wood and scales. It takes around 7kg of wood to burn a body. The floor of the street is filled with hair, with the eldest male of the family of the deceased needing to shave their heads and beards before washing the body in the river. I’ve never been so close to death, and the casualness of it all was astounding. I attended the sunset aarti here and it was a much more authentic experience than in Rishikesh. I took a sunrise boat journey on the river and this was enjoyable too. This should’ve been the most intense place of my visit to India, and in some ways it was, especially culturally, but it’s where I at last felt calm. I ended up staying for 5 days and I fell into the rhythms of the riverside town of burning bodies.
Indian hospitality, a wedding.
I met lots of wonderful people in Varanasi, including two Germans and a Swiss who were also heading to Nepal to trek next, and an Indian guy called Ayush. Ayush invited me to travel with him by train to his town, just outside of Gorakhpur, to stay for a night before driving me and the others to the Nepal border. I of course accepted the invitation! At his home I was treated to a delicious and seemingly never-ending breakfast prepared by his mother and sister. He took me on a tour of the area, to a forest and temple and through agricultural fields. We went to a Bollywood film in the cinema. And then I was informed that we would be going to a wedding that evening! Everyone knows how amazing Indian weddings are so I was very excited. Ayush’s sister provided me with a kurti to wear. The wedding was as colourful and loud and big as I’d imagined it would be. There were fireworks, pyrotechnics, drones, the works! There was so much food and Ayush made sure I tried it all. The weirdest item was the freeze-dried oreo that was shoved directly into my mouth by one man, with the icy smoke billowing out of my nose and mouth. I was the novelty white person it seemed, and had pictures taken with the bride and many others! It was a very special experience.
Transport
You can only book trains in India if you have an Indian bank account. So for foreigners this is a big problem! You have to rely on hostel staff booking them for you, and sometimes charging you a commission, or finding a kind Indian person to help you out. It’s the same for many bus booking platforms. Once you’ve managed to book a train or bus you should expect it to be delayed or cancelled. Both of the trains I took actually left on time, but both arrived an hour late. One bus was an hour and a half late. One bus was cancelled, a fact I only found out after I called them to confirm I was waiting in the right location. There are no bus stations, but individual pick-up points which are different for practically every single bus. Getting to these is hard work. Getting anywhere in cities is hard work. The public transport is seriously lacking, and the craziness of the roads and lack of pavements means walking is impossible too, so you are forced to go by tuktuk. Let me introduce you to my new least favourite thing in the world. Getting a tuktuk was the most unpleasant experience ever. This is a sweeping statement, but the drivers were all both extremely desperate for money and extremely lazy. This meant that they would quote an absurd price for the journey, and then refuse to haggle and happily return to sitting in their tuktuk. Then the next tuktuk driver would take his turn and we’d repeat the stupid interaction over and over again until eventually someone would agree to take us for a reasonable price. Often only to pull over after 100 metres and then demand a higher price again. It was so unpleasant and I tried to mainly use uber to order tuktuks, or just avoid them all together. The actual rides were entertaining once you’d accepted your high risk of death on the insane roads where lanes exist only as markings, not in reality. India drives on the left hand side of the road, but I think I was only on that side of the road about 60% of the time.
Walking around
My chosen method of exploring a country is definitely on foot. I like to stroll around a city all day, looking around and taking it all in. This just wasn’t possible in India. There were some areas where you could walk around, and I did enjoy this. But even in these you couldn’t fully immerse yourself in gazing around as you had to constantly deal with tuktuk drivers intercepting your path and trying to pick you up, not taking no for an answer, with beggars following you down the street, with children grabbing hold of your arms and not letting go, with people wanting a selfie with you just because you’re white. It was a lot, and left me completely exhausted after just a short time exploring. I learnt to adopt my most aggressive bitch face when walking around, to try and dissuade any of these negative interactions. You also had to watch where you were stepping constantly, something I learnt the hard way in Jaipur when I let myself gaze at the pink buildings for a second when walking, and ended up sliding my entire foot through a huge pile of cow poo! This did make me laugh however, breaking me out of my hardened exterior. A man running a fruit stall nearby gestured for me to come over and he laughed with me as he helped me clean up my foot with old newspapers and water. At the end of the day I wanted to escape into a calm oasis to rest and recoup, sadly that wasn’t normally available which brings me to the next issue - the hostels.
Hostels
I have stayed in some bad hostels, and plenty of good ones. The ones in India were mostly bad. They were really dirty and cramped, with the air quality especially bad in most (I’m talking mould on the floor of the bedrooms not just the bathrooms). There were other travellers in them, but also lots of Indian people using them as cheap hotels for business trips which created a strange vibe sometimes. Indian people have certain habits that aren’t the most pleasant for westerners, for example the hacking they often do in the morning to clear their throats. It’s insanely loud and echoes around all of the hostel, and the remnants of it are often seen in the sinks. I also stayed in one of my favourite hostels ever here, it was the Horn Ok Please in Jaipur and I could not recommend it more, I wish I’d stayed longer!
Personal reasons
Whilst rafting in Rishikesh I got my phone wet and it completely died. This sucked and annoyed me quite a lot! Very luckily I packed my old phone with me as a back-up, so was able to use this and it saved me having to splash out on a replacement phone. But the camera isn’t as good and that made me pretty sad for a bit. But I’m over it now! Honest…
An even more personal reason is that my Grandpa really wanted to visit India, and we had talked about travelling here together. Before we had the chance he became ill and then passed away a few years ago. He would’ve loved so much of the craziness in India. Seeing weird things like people offering to clean my ears on the street made me think of him and how much he would’ve enjoyed it, definitely being the one person to take them up on their offer! Whilst thinking about him always makes me smile, knowing he wasn’t able to experience India made me feel pretty sad.
Despite all of these challenges, I did enjoy India. It’s so full of life and colour and energy. Whilst lots of my interactions with locals were not particularly pleasant, I had some that really were. Mostly in Varanasi. When I attended the aarti here the women around me suddenly became overjoyed by my existence. Spontaneously they all started cooing at me, touching my hair and cheeks, tucking my hair behind my ear so they could kiss my forehead, squeezing my arms. I couldn’t keep up with how many hands were touching me! And all the while they were peering over me as I sat down, all wiggling their heads in the characteristic Indian way, beaming from ear to ear. When I wiggled mine in return this set them off even more, making their wiggling even more intense and their squeals of delight even louder! It all happened so quickly, and it was really wonderful.
One of my favourite things about India was the painted signs everywhere. Advertisements on walls, shop signs and markings on trucks and tuktuks are not printed signs stuck on, but hand painted pieces of artwork. It’s a small thing but I noticed it everywhere, and enjoyed it every time.
India was a lot, and it was really hard work and left me exhausted. I don’t think I could travel around the North (the South is apparently more relaxed) for more than 3 weeks at a time, I bailed out after 2.5 this time! But it was worth the effort. It’s definitely a place like no other!
I didn’t have a clue about what to expect from Central Asia. I knew very little about its history and culture and scenery. After 2 months of travelling around 4 of the 5 countries in the region, I feel like I’ve absorbed so much knowledge on all of those topics. In the interest of not completely forgetting all of this information, I’ve decided to record it here in a big overall Central Asia post. And it might be interesting to flick over if you want to gain an insight into this really amazing region.
This post includes:
Days I spent in each country:
Kazakhstan - 22
Kyrgystan - 18
Uzbekistan - 14
Tajikistan - 6
Defining features (in my opinion!):
Kazakhstan - steppe, modern cities, friendly people
Kyrgystan - mountains, nomads (horses and yurts), lakes
Uzbekistan - silk road cities, modern cities, bread
Tajikistan - mountains, persian language, Pamirs
I have really enjoyed my time in Central Asia, despite it being hard at times. I’ve developed a real love for the area and will look back on my time here with absolute fondness. I’m also proud to say I survived the coldest winter in Central Asia in 15 years!
An unexpected constant: That aren’t a lot of hostels in Central Asia, with most of my time spent in Guesthouses, but the ones that do exist are very different to normal hostels. These hostels are not filled with other travellers passing through, but Russians living there. Because of mobilisation, many Russians have left Russia and are yet to find a permanent living situation. This creates a very strange vibe in the hostels, with me loving life and seeing the world, and this group of people who are just trying to survive. Many of these people have very warped views on the west and the war, which was interesting to hear about at first but quickly became very tiring. I felt like the spokesperson for England most of the time, despite knowing very little about the whole situation. Addressing strange Russian propaganda tropes about England became extremely boresome. An example of how absurd some of these were - “All people in England are gay”. Many of these people, perhaps because they were living there, didn’t abide by the unspoken hostel etiquette rules. Overall, they weren’t the most pleasant experience!
8th - 5th century BC → The Scythians. Central Asia was split into Khanates (Kingdoms). Scythians were nomadic and depended heavily on horses.
3rd century BC → Xiongnu. Nomadic. Lots of fighting with the Han dynasty who ruled China.
2nd century BC → Silk Road started to form. Settlements begin to pop up amongst the nomadic lifestyle.
8th century AD → Uyghurs. Nomadic Turkic group who massively enabled trade across Eurasia.
9th century AD → Rise of Islam. At the end of the 9th century China collapsed and Persia started to decline. This negatively impacted the Silk Road and therefore Central Asia.
13th century → Mongols. Still nomadic. Central Asia remains separated into khanates. Mongols protected the trade routes across Central Asia and allowed them to prosper and improve. The Mongol empire collapsed due to internal rifts.
14th and 15th century → Timur ruled over the khanates. On Timur’s death in 1405, the region was divided into principalities ruled by his descendants. The rivalries between these means that they were defeated by the Uzbeks.
16th century → The Silk Road had dried up. Central Asia’s prosperity declined and it was known as the “backwater”.
17th century → Russia began advancing into Central Asia. By the 19th century they had total control of all of the khanates.
19th century → The Great Game between Russia and Britain. Afghanistan was the only country separating the British controlled India and the Russian controlled Central Asia. Both Britain and Russia wanted to keep Afghanistan as a friendly buffer, and it resulted in a host of activities now referred to as the Great Game.
20th century → Soviet Union. The 1917 revolution in Russia resulted in the Tsarist regime being replaced with the communist one, with Central Asia now being part of the Soviet Union. In the 1920s and 1930s the Soviet government created five republics in the region: the Kazakh SSR (Soviet Socialist Republic), the Kyrgyz SSR, the Tajik SSR, the Uzbek SSR and the Turkmen SSR. When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, each republic obtained their independence. And so we finally have the five countries that make up the region today!
These insights mostly come from conversations I have had with local people. More broad and easy insights come from my own experiences. If it is my own opinion I will state this, otherwise I am simply relaying what people told me. Do not take it as fact!!!
An overall point on languages in Central Asia: Kazakh, Kyrgyz and Uzbek are all Turkic languages. They were originally written using the arabic script which was introduced with Islam. This was changed to cyrillic during the Soviet Union, which is what remains today. However, the use of latin is on the increase, especially in Uzbekistan. Tajik is a Persian language.
Kyrgystan is a funky one with a sharp north/south divide. There is a history of conflict between the two regions, and they are distinct to such an extent that I will discuss them separately. The difference grows from the fact that the north is ethnically Kyrgyz and the south is ethnically Uzbek.
North Kyrgystan:
South Kyrgystan:
Disclosure: I did not visit Turkmenistan because it’s basically impossible! But I did have a long conversation with four Turkmen men (that sounds funny) that I met at a tea house in Uzbekistan. I felt like I gained enough insight to briefly mention about it.
Originally I planned to do the Pamir highway in Tajikistan with the Irish couple (Niamh and Karl). After the cold in Krygystan and some research into onwards flights, I changed my mind. As much as I loved Central Asia I was starting to feel ready to move on, to have some warmth and better food and other travellers again. I didn’t think I’d have time to visit India, and had been put off from going from people who said it wouldn’t be very pleasant as a solo woman. Travelling for 9 months has done wonders for my self-belief and I felt like I would be fine visiting alone, and speaking to Alice (a british girl I met in Uzbekistan who’d been to India several times alone) cemented this. The flights I was looking at to get to Nepal had a stop-over in New Delhi, so it made much more sense to just stop there and travel to Nepal by land. This is a long way of saying that I cut my time in Tajikistan short, only visiting for 1 week and skipping the Pamir highway trip. I would love to do it another time, in the spring, perhaps on bike and maybe with my Dad (if he’s up for it)…
The people
Despite lots of warnings from Kyrgyz, Kazakhs and Uzbeks, the Tajik people were very friendly. Their appearance is more Persian than Asian, and one person even said I looked like a Tajik mountain girl (he assured me it was a compliment…). My favourite thing about Tajik people is the hand on heart they do as a greeting/thank you/goodbye, like their version of an acknowledging head nod.
The scenery
Like Kyrgystan, Tajikistan is very mountainous (93% in fact) but it’s more hard rock face than green. Looking out from a panorama point the number of mountains really hit me - it was all I could see, just rows and rows of mountains. These were a purple colour, trees were sparse. The small amount of flat land is very fertile, with a huge amount of fruits and vegetables grown there in the summer. It seems like a harsh climate, and that struck me more than the beauty of the place.
The food
Same as in the rest of the region. More plov, lagman, manti and samsas. Specialty dish is Kurotob. The base of this is bread in yogurt. I had a dinner variety one in a restaurant that was surprisingly tasty, topped with meat and tomatoes and lots of fresh herbs. I had a breakfast variety at a guesthouse and it was just heavy.
The vibe
A little rougher feeling than the other countries. Proudly Persian. The cities are faux modern - tall, brand new buildings that sit empty, with most people living in one-storey houses along dirt roads. The villages are proudly not modern.
Both my entrance and exit into Tajikistan were stressful. I caught the overnight train from Samarkand, Uzbekistan to Dushanbe, Tajikistan. The train guard was a very friendly man, but slightly too friendly for my liking. There was some confusion where he wanted me to move beds to the bed next to him, and I couldn’t see why, the carriage was practically empty so if I had to move I could move to an area by myself! After some very confusing google translate messages (see below) I eventually got my way and had a bed alone.
This wasn’t the end however and he made me join him to drink wine with another guard. This was all quite pleasant a part from the fact he was constantly kissing my cheeks and forehead, and trying to kiss me on the lips and neck. I felt very uncomfortable by the end and didn’t sleep well.
My exit was even more dramatic. I got the night train again, going in the reverse direction to Tashkent, Uzbekistan. Completely unintentionally, and to the fault of another passenger who gestured for me to go out of the station to the platform where my train was waiting, I wriggled through what I now understand was a gap in a wall rather than a doorway, bypassing the customs and border control. The result of this was I’d illegally left Tajikistan and was completely unaware of it. This was until I was strong-armed off the train by several army men and border officials. After some initial shouting and demanding of my passport which, to make matters worse, I didn’t have as I’d handed it in to some lady on the train, my utter ignorance and therefore innocence became clear. The anger became baffled head shakes and laughs as they ran me over to the border control to get my exit stamp before the train left. Sadly that wasn’t the end of my issues on this train, with there being a man in my bed and a lady in his bed. Eventually this was sorted and I ended up in a carriage with two Turkish men, who showed me lots of pictures of sheep (I still have no idea why).
Beyond the initial and ending stress, my time in Tajikistan was very enjoyable. I used Dushanbe as a base and was surprised at how modern the city was, with lots of nice cafes for me to sit in and catch up on some blog writing. Beyond that it was an extremely grey and dreary place. I went on a two-day tour to the south of the country which was quite eventful. It was supposed to be a tour to Iskanderkul lake in the north, but the terrible weather meant the pass was closed. My guide Denis was wonderful and came up with an alternative plan, and we made a long drive south, stopping to look at different interest points on the way, me filling the rest of the time by quizzing Denis on every aspect of Tajik life (poor guy). We even saw the very end of the Tajik version of Kok boru! We had a very traditional experience at a homestay in a small village, and it was wonderful to see village life here. We spent the precious evening hours before the electricity was turned off (there have been huge problems with energy shortages in all of Central Asia this winter) playing a soviet card game with two little boys. Not to sugar coat this experience, the toilet was a literal pit in the ground in a shed at the bottom of the garden and there was no running water. I was given the one room with a fireplace in so I would be warm, this did mean sleeping on the floor but I was perfectly comfortable and was even offered a woman to sleep with me in case I was scared to sleep alone! For breakfast we had traditional Kurotob - fried bread covered in Tajik yogurt, topped with more fried bread. It was served in a giant wooden bowl and we all ate with our hands from it.
Denis and I set off for a hike but managed to pop one of the tyres on the 4WD car. I finally learnt how to change a tyre, something that’s a lot easier than I assumed, and I still got to have a little hike. We took the older road back, driving through some unbelievable little villages. The children were so striking here. Some very dark and some very fair with blonde hair and blue eyes. We stopped in one of the villages after driving past a group of girls collecting water from a spring. I watched them load up a donkey with water and then helped them carry the buckets down the road. I’m so glad I had the chance to see more of Tajikistan than just Dushanbe. Both the scenery and village life were so interesting. On arriving back into the city I went to a bar to wait for Niamh and Karl to arrive. I struck up conversation with a guy from Nigeria and a guy from South Africa after being surprised to hear english. We ended up going to a club and I marvelled at the contrast of my morning (pissing in a pit, eating with two men from a giant bowl of greasy bread) to my night (dancing in a club with gogo girls). The difference between city and village life across Central Asia is vast. I joined Denis again for a group hike, and enjoyed trudging through deep snow up a valley alongside the German ambassador for Tajikistan and other interesting expats.
You have probably all heard of the Silk Road. It pertains to a 5000 mile network of trading routes across Eurasia from around 115 BC to the 1450s AD. The image of one caravan of camels moving goods all the way from China to Rome isn’t quite accurate however. Instead, caravans would operate on small segments of the route, with items being traded in towns and then continuing with a new caravan along the next segment. As the name of the Silk Road suggests, one of the main trade products was silk, with it moving from China over to Europe. Another big commodity, going in the reverse direction from Central Asia to China, were horses. This was the reason the Silk Road began in fact. The soil in China lacked Selenium, which meant Chinese horses lacked muscular strength and had reduced growth. The Chinese wanted the superior horses that existed on the Steppes of Central Asia, bred by nomads. The nomads wanted silk and grain, and thus the trading began. Other products were introduced as time went on and trade routes expanded: spices, tea, honey, wine, gold, dyes, perfumes and porcelain. It wasn’t just products that moved along the Silk Road, it provided an unprecedented diffusion of ideas, religions (especially Buddhism), philosophies and scientific discoveries. It was the very beginning of globalisation. Not all that was transported was positive, with some scholars believing that the Great Plague was spread to Europe from Asia along the Silk Road. Its impacts on world history can’t be overstated in my opinion!
The Silk Road came to an end with the rise of the Ottoman Empire, which severed trade between East and West. Sea routes began to be used instead of going overland, and this led to the age of exploration with Europeans discovering the Americas and beyond. There is now a ‘New Silk Road’, a name given to several large infrastructure projects hoping to expand transportation along the historic trade route. An example is the ‘Belt and Road Initiative’ funded by China, and I’ve had the pleasure of using some of the new roads myself when in Turkey.
Along the Silk Road several cities were established, as an oasis to the caravans. These were places for the caravan to rest, for the merchants to trade, and for the travellers to socialise. This is where the exchange of ideas, philosophy and religion happened. These towns all had caravanserai which were the ancient hostel in a way. Often a courtyard shape, with the animals being kept on the ground floor, with rooms for the travellers on a second floor. The first caravanserai I encountered on my trip was in Sarajevo, Bosnia. Since then I’ve seen countless others, especially in Turkey. The caravanserai are often the only hint at the city’s Silk Road history. The cities have evolved into something quite different, and have a life of their own now. When you enter the Silk Road cities of Uzbekistan this period of their history is all you can comprehend. They remain frozen as safe havens in the desert. Maybe it’s because I’m currently reading a book set along the Silk Road (thanks for sending it to me Alex!) but as I roamed the deserted streets of Khiva at sunrise I felt like I was experiencing it as a traveller who had spent weeks in the desert, overjoyed to be back in civilisation, rather than a backpacker who had spent 22 hours on a train! I don’t know why hype of these cities hasn’t reached England, but it will soon I’m sure. They all have similar architecture, namely brown mud walls with the flash of blue ceramics in every shade imaginable, in a frequency that gives the city colour whilst still being rare enough to feel like you’ve stumbled upon a treasure. They all have multiple mosques, minarets, markets and madrasahs (old Islamic schools). They all have a main square called the Registan. Whilst these features derive from the Islamic history of the cities, their grandeur and importance comes from its place on the Silk Road. The wealth that the trade brought and throngs of people passing through meant it was both possible and necessary to build such huge structures. The history of these places is one of the most palpable I’ve ever experienced - on the same level as walking around the Valley of the Kings in Egypt, or Pompeii in Italy. But unlike these places, they feel more alive. Real people still live in the Old Town, new merchants selling handmade fabric and ceramic goods fill the holes of the ancient bazaars and trading domes.
I crossed into Uzbekistan from south Kyrgystan, getting a marshrutka the short distance from Osh to the border. I crossed on foot, experiencing much interest and suspicion over my British passport. I had to wait a while at the Uzbek side, with them appearing to be unsure over whether I needed a visa to enter or not (I did not). As I waited for the guard to return with my passport, the other guard was very curious about my marital status! Once I got through I exchanged my small amount of leftover Kyrgyz som to Uzbek som, being startled by the exchange rate with was 14,000 som to £1! I took my wad of cash and put my head down to march through the battlefield of taxi drivers. They were the most forceful I’d experienced in Central Asia, but I’d done my research and knew there was a public bus which stopped just past the taxi ranks. I rammed myself onto this, standing ladled with my bags for an hour. We arrived into Andijan and from here I was able to get a shared taxi to Ferghana where my taxi driver offloaded me into a damas (a tiny van that I’d already clocked were everywhere in Uzbekistan) which took me to Margilan. The whole journey took about 4.5 hours (including the border crossing) and cost £5.90, which depleted my Uzbek soms. I checked into my hotel and walked into the city centre to do the new country admin of taking out some money and getting a sim card. A problem revealed itself - there was a city wide powercut. No electricity meant no ATMs were working and no wifi was working. This meant I had no money and no internet, also being unable to get a sim card. I was rather stuck! I visited a silk factory whilst I prayed the power would return, risking my life walking around the city as no power also meant no traffic lights. Eventually I saw lights flickering back on in all of the shops, and I raced to join the long line at the ATM. I returned to the hotel with money, a sim card, and a strange sense of accomplishment!
From Margilan I travelled 22 hours by train to Khiva - my first real Silk Road city. The train journey was long but easily spent with blog writing, watching netflix and chatting to the group of old women who spent an hour showing me videos from the wedding they’d been attending and photos of all of their grandchildren. They also gave me an entire loaf (well, circle) of bread?
I arrived at sunrise and made the most of this by exploring the old town in the morning light, devoid of any other people. The old town was small, surrounded by a big city wall and completely conserved within, no modern buildings in sight. It felt like walking around a film set, or an open air museum. I learnt that the town has been heavily restored, which is maybe why I didn’t love it quite as much as you’d imagine. It had an air of fakeness to it which subtracted from the historical ambience. It was still pretty cool though. I especially loved the Kalta Minor Minaret, an unfinished tower which was short but charmingly wide, and completely covered in blue mosaics. Khiva was the city where I felt most encapsulated in the history. The little streets with small doorways, shops filled with bright fabrics and ceramics hidden within. Items so beautiful that they were too much for even me to pass up on, and I purchased a beautiful, and reversible, silk and cotton jacket. I bought the ‘VIP’ ticket (actually, it was the only type of ticket so really it should just be called standard) so I could visit the Mausoleum and go up the tall minaret, only to find out neither of these were actually included in the ticket. What was included in the overpriced ticket? No less than 15 of the worst ‘museums’ I have ever visited. Most had no english translations and seemed to house a completely eclectic collection of items (see image of one of these items, a rare one with an english translation). But after shelling out for the stupid ticket I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to visit every last one of them. It became a mission to cross them all off the little map stapled to my ticket and one that left me quite tired by the end. The only two things worth seeing where the Kuhana Ark, where you could climb up a tower for views of the city (but don’t go too near to closing time, as they don’t check if anyone’s on top before closing the door at the bottom…), and the Toshhovli palace. But it was fun to enter into all of the Madrasahs which housed the museums I suppose.
Unexpectedly, I met an english girl (Alice) in the lovely terrace restaurant in Khiva, and it turns out she was doing a similar journey to me (England to Australia overland)! It was wonderful to compare our routes so far, and commiserate on our shared disappointment of not being able to do the ferry crossing from Azerbaijan to Kazakhstan.
Eight hours by train from Khiva lies my next stop. Bukhara’s old town is a bit more spread out, with no big city wall and much wider streets separating the Madrasahs and minarets. Instead of shops buried in small alleys, the merchants occupied large trading domes. The mosques, minarets and Madrasahs were bigger too. It was a bit more lively than quiet Khiva. The Ark Fortress (the old citadel) was off to the side of the old town, and was huge even if 80% of it was still rubble after being bombed by the Red Army in the 1920s. I ventured inside and was told I had to buy a ticket, after my negative experience in Khiva I asked what exactly the ticket included and was told three museums. It was £3 so I decided I would do it. Climbing up to the main area I was disappointed but unsurprised to find that 2 of the museums were locked, and there wasn’t much to see up there at all. Armed with my complaint I returned to the ticket office and was gaslighted by the woman who insisted the museums were open. Eventually I was escorted back up and wow, the museums were locked! A guy came and unlocked them. It turns out he was the manager of the fortress and he ended up giving me a full guided tour, probably feeling like he had to after seeing my very unimpressed expression. When he couldn’t answer my questions on the history of Bukhara he called up the head of the history department, at this point I was feeling very lucky! Both of them then took me to the non-public parts of the fortress which was pretty cool.
A much shorter 2.5 hour train journey took me to Samarkand, my final Silk Road city. Samarkand was the one place I had heard about previously, peering at the impressive photos of the Registan Square on my laptop all those years ago when I started to plan my trip. I arrived in the evening and after dropping my bags at the hostel, decided to go for a run. It had dawned on me that I was planning to do my Himalayan hike in only 6 weeks and I hadn’t done any cardio in months! It also shows just how safe I feel in Uzbekistan, I wouldn’t even feel comfortable going for a run at night in London. I ran down to the Registan Square and got my first look at it, all lit up. It looked a bit smaller than I’d imagined, but was utterly beautiful. I couldn’t believe I was seeing it with my own eyes. The following day I returned in the sun, taking my time to explore each of the three Madrasahs. The first one I entered, Ulugh Beg Madrasah, was my favourite. On entering the courtyard my jaw literally dropped, and I audibly said “wow” to no one but myself. I’ve seen some really beautiful sights over the last 8.5 months, and this is the first one that has actually left me speechless. And I’d spent the last week visiting Silk Road sights. That tells you all you need to know! But I’ll give you a description anyway… Two stories surrounding a courtyard, every inch of wall covered in mosaic tiles in blue, white, yellow, orange and green. I climbed to the second floor, being at eye level with the arches as they were filled with sunlight. The more you looked the more details revealed themselves, and the more it felt like the beauty and history was unravelling for you. The colours and warmth surrounding me in a bubble of mosaic heaven. I took SO many photos! The other two Madrasahs were also beautiful, and I especially liked the tiger details on the front of the Sherdor Madrasah. A part from the Registan Square, which is definitely the crown jewel of the Silk Road, Samarkand has a few Mausoleums and mosques scattered around. One which surprised me in it’s uniqueness was the Shah-i-Zinda complex. This is several Mausoleums in a row, forming a narrow corridor which means your entire perspective is filled with mosaics. Samarkand is a much more modern city than Bukhara or Khiva. When you stepped away from whatever mosque or madrasah you were visiting, you were sucked back into modern day leaving the Silk Road history behind.
I had a few days in Samarkand as I waited for my Tajikistan e-visa to be approved, and I really enjoyed taking the time to savour each of the sights. The sunny weather was also much appreciated. And the company of Alice who caught up with me here! From Samarkand I got an overnight train to Dushanbe, Tajikistan. I’d be returning to Uzbekistan to visit Tashkent which is where I would be heading to my next destination (sadly by flight), but I’ll keep that a surprise for now!
I thought I might get tired of Silk Road cities after visiting three in a row, but I abolutely did not. All three were so different and I’m really not sure which was my favourite. The Registan Square in Samarkand was definitely the highlight, but the overall vibe of Khiva and Bukhara were more special. I’m sorry to say you have to visit all three in my opinion, no shortcuts available here!
My return to Tashkent was brief and uneventful, but I enjoyed going to both a ballet and an opera at the national theatre. Even more so because they only cost £2.20 each! I had some fun changing my leftover Tajik somoni to Uzbek som with a random man at the bazaar. I said goodbye to my pair of jeans that were ripped beyond saving after I’d already sewed them up 3 times. I excitedly waited for my flight to India!
I had been told by people in Kazakhstan and Kyrgystan that Uzbek people were the nicest and most friendly in Central Asia. This wasn’t my complete experience. I found that I was hassled the most in Uzbekistan, by taxi drivers, by people selling souvenirs, by sellers in bazaars. Probably because people are more used to tourists in the Silk Road cities? On trains, people mostly left me alone rather than striking up conversation and being very friendly. In my experience, Kazakhs remain the most friendly in Central Asia. I did have some very lovely interactions, with one of my guesthouse owners cooking me traditional plov as a ‘gift’. In Samarkand I had groups of teenage girls come up to me on three separate occasions to ask to speak to me - wanting to practice their english, ask me questions and take photos with me. One group even wanted to film an interview with me, asking me about how I’d found Samarkand.
Disclaimer: I wrote this on a 22 hour train journey so it is LONG because I had a whole lot of time on my hands!
The people
Kyrgyz people are, in general, less friendly than Kazakhs. They’re still very friendly, but people didn’t stop to chat to me as often as in Kazakhstan. However I had more very friendly encounters, where people would invite me to join their party, or take me out for lunch.
The scenery
Breathtaking. Like seriously, wow. It is 94% mountains so wherever you are, there’s a mountain in at least one direction. Issyl-kul lake is beautiful. The southern mountainous region is stunning. It’s all just good. I can see why it is big for hiking and nature-based activities! On the other end of the spectrum, the cities are abysmal. Soviet in all senses, which can have a certain charm about it, but not in winter conditions. The grey blocks partially visible behind a curtain of revolting air pollution, along desolate roads covered in ice and snow mush did nothing for me.
The food
Basically the same as Kazakhstan. The national dish is even the same - beshparmark. I tried samsa here, it’s a pasty but in a triangle. This was the most delicious thing I ate, so I think that sums it up. I also tried horse here. The first time I had it I did not like it. It tasted like a horse smells. The second time it was actually really delicious, so perhaps it’s in how it’s prepared.
The vibe
Unlike Kazakhstan, Kyrgystan knows what it is. It’s a country of nomads with rich nature. And it’s nailing this vibe! Wherever you go you see people on horses, you see yurts, you see mountains and trees and lakes. It’s also capitalising on it, with a great network of community-based tourism centres which organise homestays and yurt stays and affordable activities like horse treks and cultural dinners. In the summer months, the nomad population actually becomes nomadic, moving to yurts across the country to live with their livestock. I will 100% be returning to Kyrgystan in the summertime to experience this - to hike some of the gorgeous multi-day treks where you stay with actual nomads in their yurts each night. But first, I need to learn russian! I would fully recommend doing the same if you’re into nature. Kyrgystan is in that perfect sweet spot of being off the beaten track but having accessible tourism infrastructure, making it easy to experience local life. It also has beautiful sights actually worth seeing (unlike Kazakhstan…).
Lenin is everywhere
I noticed a huge number of monuments to Lenin whilst just existing in Kyrgystan. From statues in every town, Lenin streets commonly seen, and the biggest mountain being named Lenin’s peak. There are several suggested reasons for why Lenin’s influence wasn’t completely scrubbed out, like in other former Soviet states.
From The Contested Histories Initiative, ”Statue of Lenin in Bishkek”, Contested Histories Case Study #93 (May 2022)
Day 1 - 3: Bokonbyaevo
Being my second Central Asian country, I felt a lot more comfortable with the peculiarities of travel here. I arrived by bus into Bishkek (the capital) from Almaty, Kazakhstan. The road was icy and an accident meant we were stopped on the side of the road for 2 hours. I was in the mood for nature rather than cities after spending so long in Almaty, so the next morning (after doing the new country admin of getting out cash and getting a sim card) I caught a marshrutka to a town on the south side of Issyl-Kul lake called Bokonbyaevo. The journey took 5.5 hours and we stopped at a strangely fancy service station on the way. I arrived into the town after dark and decided to walk the 40 minutes to my guesthouse to stretch my legs. This was probably a mistake. A conclusion I reached whilst zig-zagging my way past drunken men stumbling around and stray dogs. I ate a disappointing meal of turkey leg with the ends of the feathers still in it, noodles, potatoes and a bowl of meat grease on the side that the lady insisted I drink (I got away with just taking a sip in the end). A vegetable was a mystical being it seemed. The following day I ventured to Skazka canyon by marshrutka, taking note of the horrific condition of the road on the way there. I enjoyed walking around and getting lost in the ridges of rock, or the folds of a dragon if you believe the myth about the canyon (that it’s a dragon which turned to stone from shock in seeing the lake that had formed from its curse to flood the valley every full moon until the woman who rejected its advances agreed to them - weird). On my walk back to the road I spied a cafe on google maps and went to check it out, very much fancying a coffee to warm up. As I neared the cafe I was expecting it to be closed, but was elated to see people inside! I realised my mistake as soon as I’d opened the door - definitely not open, it was just a family having a party inside. Before I knew it I was sat down in the centre of the table, eating a plate of plov (rice with meat and a few veggies) and salad, giving a toast with vodka! I had a lovely few hours eating and chatting with the Kyrgyz family, who all spoke some english. I wandered back to the main road and stuck my thumb out to hitchhike back. The first truck driver that passed stopped and picked me up. I usually have a rule against hitchhiking in trucks but this man had kind eyes so I climbed on in. He was very friendly, although I made the mistake of answering honestly to the inevitable ‘Are you married?’ question, meaning the rest of the 30 minute journey was filled with him proposing marriage to me! We had a laugh and he dropped me outside the town. I bought a salad from the supermarket for dinner as an alternative to another meal at the guesthouse…
Day 3 - 4: Yurt stay
From Bokonbyaevo I got a taxi down to the lake’s edge to stay in a yurt for a night. I’m sure it’s packed with visitors in the summer, but it was completely deserted now. I enjoyed a day of stillness and nature. It was truly wonderful. I walked along the lake, stopping to write some poetry and just take in the impressive scenery. The huge lake, mountains just about visible through the clouds on the other side, mountains very much visible in every other direction. I found a stone circle look out point, complete with pallet seats. I did yoga in the sun here, more sitting in stillness, more writing. I warmed up in my yurt and changed into my bikini, going for a bracing swim in the cold lake. It was around 6 degrees I believe, but with the sun shining down it wasn’t too bad at all! I made some hot tea in my flask and went back out to watch the sunset. I watched ‘Where the Crawdads Sing’ (not as good as the book of course, but I enjoyed it) cuddled up in the yurt and then went to sleep. The yurt was a bit too cosy, airing on the side of suffocating. It was heated with an electric heater (traditionally a coal fire) and I woke up in the night in a strange sweat and with a clammy mouth. Paired with the strange noises outside, I didn’t sleep well at all! After a delicious breakfast prepared by the group of women running the yurt camp, I set off to find the main road. It was about 4km away through desert like landscape hugging the lake, which made for a very enjoyable walk/adventure. I didn’t see a single person, but there were some little houses at points. I rounded one corner and the most perfect beach appeared. The sun was shining even more strongly than the previous day and I toyed with the idea of taking another swim. There was really no reason to not - I was in no hurry, I had my swimming stuff with me seeing as I had all of my stuff with me! I slid down to the beach and dropped my bags, changed into my bikini and scuttled into the water. It was even more magnificent this time. I finished the walk to the road, spotting a child on horseback herding a cow and some graffiti in english. Without even sticking my thumb out this time, a car stopped and offered to take me to Karakol for a small fee (hitchhiking is a common mode of transport in Kyrgystan, but often you have to pay a bit). I agreed and we set off, first stopping in another town to pick up a family who found my presence very interesting. The smallest girl showed me photos of her whole family and the earrings she makes. Disappointingly for them, I was so tired after my poor night’s sleep and morning walk and swim I quickly fell asleep in the car, having to be woken up by the driver once we’d reached Karakol.
Day 4 - 7: Karakol
Karakol is the fourth largest city in Kyrgystan, and is located in the East right by the Tian Shan mountains, pretty close to China. In the summer it’s the base for hiking, climbing, biking and any other nature-based activity. In the winter, it’s a little quieter but there are visitors around for winter sports like backcountry skiing and snow-shoeing. It is home to Dungan people, an ethnic group originally from China. Their traditional dish is Ashlan-Fu, which I tried for dinner one evening in the aptly named Ashlan-Fu alley in the bazaar. It’s a cold noodle soup dish, with scrambled eggs on top and an interesting sharp and spicy flavour. On my first day here I skied, being very happy with the long and fun beginners slope. If you’re a good skier the rest of the runs looked insane, with no markings and the option of traversing through the forest whenever you want. On my second day I went paragliding. It was one of the few activities on my bucket list for this trip, and as it was only £35 I couldn’t resist. This price was on my mind when we got to the top of the mountain and I eyed several pieces of duct tape on the parachute, and when trying to communicate with the non-english speaking instructor, but we made it through! It was even more fun than I imagined, and not at all scary (bar the initial running down a near vertical icy slope with a man shouting “faster” in my ear and my legs being left behind me). If I wasn’t on a budget, I would 100% have gone right back to the top of the mountain and done it again. The weather was perfect on this day, and I decided to make the most of it by going to some hot springs in the afternoon. Armed with the instructions on how to get there from the hostel and a takeaway flat white (the luxury!) I caught the correctly numbered marshrutka, which did not drop me off where I expected. No worries, I was happy to walk the 7km up the valley to the hot springs, enjoying spotting horses drinking from a frozen river and eagles in the sky. This was until an old man wanted to shake my hand, and then would not release it. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he chortled at me in russian, despite my repeated “Я не понимаю по-русски!” (I don’t understand russian). Eventually I was able to wrestle my hand away and I sped down the road. Sadly this wasn’t the last time I saw the strange man, as he pulled up to me in a marshrutka and bundled me inside, then following me when I got off. Again, I had to wrestle myself from his grip. At this point I was feeling stressed out and my tolerance for him was at zero. I forcefully told him no in russian, and speed walked away. Luckily, I am a very fast walker, and he was old with a limp, so it wasn’t an issue to escape from him. As I walked I kept glancing behind me to see he was still following and shouting after me. I reached the hot springs which were beautiful, positioned in the nook of the valley, but I spent the first 30 minutes anxiously watching the road through the steam in case he appeared. He did not and I was able to relax into the hot water. My third day was spent hunkered down in a cafe while a snowstorm raged outside, and the temperature dropped to -19 degrees. That evening I bumped into a guy I’d met on Christmas day (Francis), he was travelling with a friend who had come to visit him. We went out for dinner and drinks together, and it was nice to socialise after spending the last few days alone.
Day 7 - 12: Bishkek
It was at this point that my time in Kyrgystan started to go downhill. I wanted to do a snowshoe trek to a yurt camp nearby Karakol, but the severe cold meant this wasn’t possible, and wouldn’t be for almost a week. The two day hike I wanted to do also wasn’t possible at this time of year it turned out. So I decided to return to Bishkek and continue my journey south. The bus journey was one of the worst so far, it took about 8 hours and was gruelling. I bumped into Karl and Niamh (the irish couple) in the hostel in Bishkek and the following day we visited Burana tower - an old minaret in a very picturesque location. The next day I explored Bishkek itself. Perhaps it is a nice city, but I could hardly even see it through the thick smog. The air pollution from coal fires used to heat homes, and the cold air keeping it trapped in the city, resulted in a horrific atmosphere and it made me feel ill and unhappy. The importance, and luxury, of clean air became startlingly apparent to me. I visited the museum which was very well done, with a floor on the ancient, nomadic and modern history of the country. I met up with a local lady for coffee and we chatted about being a woman in Krygystan, and the practice of bride kidnapping here (more on this sort of thing in another post!). I really wanted to see the traditional game of Kok Boru - imagine polo but nomadic style, with a beheaded goat carcass instead of a ball. I had managed to find the number of the Kok Boru Federation from instagram and had been in touch with a guy about it. He wanted to meet for lunch so I agreed, and he took me to a nice restaurant and we chatted. He said there would be a game tomorrow so I decided to stay an extra day in Bishkek to see it. After waiting around all day he finally messaged me at 4pm, and he picked me up to take me to a humorously named ‘Hyde Park”. Alas, there was no Kok Boru, but I did get to ride around the playing field and see a beautiful sunset. He also paid for another delicious meal, and this time with his whole family. His wife spoke good english and was very interesting to chat to, so all was not lost! He said tomorrow there would be Kok Boru, so again I waited, and again there was no Kok Boru. I bumped into Francis again and drowned my sorrows over pints of surprisingly good, scrumpy-like cider (Francis is from nearby Tiverton in England so we obviously had to go for cider). I was fed up of the air pollution and the disappointment so decided to move on the following day. You can’t win them all, and seeing Kok Boru was one I’d lost.
Day 12 - 14: Arslanbob
I managed to find a shared taxi to Arslanbob and the journey took an excruciating 12 hours (perhaps because I was a bit hungover after the ciders the night before). The scenery was absolutely insane though, with us driving across two mountain passes, windows filled with rugged mountains and soft snow covered hills. I arrived at midnight to my homestay in the small mountain town. Facilities were limited. No running water but a kettle of warm water was provided for me to wash my face. An outside, squat toilet, the route to which was treacherous with ice and in the darkness I slipped and fell into a snowdrift. The room was cold. But I was happy, some excitement after the dullness of Bishkek! Arslanbob is a pretty town and is the home of the walnut. It is surrounded by ancient walnut forests and mountains. It’s off the beaten path in the summer, with only some of the visiting tourists venturing out to it for hiking. In the winter, there were no other visitors. The english speaking guy who had helped me find the shared taxi asked to meet for lunch and I agreed. He showed me around the busy market in the town centre, then to a small waterfall and a panorama point. He was very chatty and I picked his brains on Kyrgyz culture and current affairs, his opinions on being Uzbek but living in Kyrgystan (the entire village and region is ethnically Uzbek), his opinions on Afghanistan as a muslim - more on all of this in another post. After lunch we went our separate ways and I continued exploring alone. I saw children sledging down every sloping road, older children using a strange ice skate-like device. Children would either shout “Hello!” at me and want to practice their english, or stare at me like I was an alien, eventually breaking into a shy smile when I said “hello” to them. I wondered if it will feel strange when I’m back home where every single person on the street doesn’t stare me. I got lost walking through along the snowy streets to the mountains, and back through the little paths through the thick snow in the woodland. From Arslanbob I caught the one marshrutka a day, at 6:50am, which went to Osh.
Day 14 - 16: Osh
Osh is the second biggest city and is ethnically Uzbek. I couchsurfed here, staying with two Indian medical students. There’s not much to say about Osh to be honest, the only things to see are the little mountain in its centre, the bazaar, and a huge Lenin statue. The guys I stayed with were nice, and cooked some great indian food for me. The sleeping situation wasn’t ideal - they didn’t have mattresses for some reason so I slept directly on the bed frame. Like Bishkek, the air pollution was bad here, and it made me feel equally unhappy. I was looking forward to heading to Uzbekistan at this point!
I really liked Kyrgystan. I had some very fun experiences here and felt like I had reached optimal travelling confidence. I was happy to hitchhike frequently and just see where I ended up each day. It was also the first time I’d been unable to do things I wanted to do because of the weather, with hiking and long horse treks being off the table. At first, this annoyed me. Then I realised I now knew I wanted to come back to Kyrgystan in the summer to hike, something I doubt would ever have occurred to me if I hadn’t visited it on this trip! Kyrgystan has the potential to be one of my favourite countries, with its insane nature and rich culture, but the horrific air pollution and things not going 100% smoothly means it’s not quite there after this visit. I had some real fun here, and often felt like I was really travelling alone across a strange place.
Ever since late October Christmas had been on my mind. I was apprehensive about it. I thought it might be the event that finally pushed me to feel properly homesick. I was expecting to feel sad. As it got to mid-December I had stopped thinking about it so much, being preoccupied with navigating Kazakhstan and all of the new experiences. I had several options on where to stay for Christmas and I was struggling to decide what I wanted to do - staying with a host through the facebook page ‘Host a Sister’ (a really lovely community of female travellers), a host through couchsurfing, or a hostel. After talking it through with a friend over the phone I realised what I wanted - to have my own space to have the Christmas I wanted, so a hostel it was!
Kazakhstan doesn’t celebrate Christmas. The majority religion is Islam, followed by Orthodox Christianity (which celebrates Christmas on the 7th January). As in all post-Soviet countries, any Christmas celebrations were crushed and the focus was moved to New Year instead. Despite this, there were a huge number of Christmas decorations around the city, including several Christmas trees (dubbed ‘New Year’s trees’).
A day of preparations! I did a Christmas food shop and treated myself to all sorts of goodies like lobster flavoured crisps and Ferrero Rocher. But my main mission was buying ingredients for a dessert. I had moved into a hostel this morning and it didn’t have an oven, only hobs, so my original plan of making brownies was scrapped and replaced with rocky roads. Back at the hostel I listened to Christmas music as I baked, having a wonderful time. The Irish couple I’d met back in Georgia were also in Almaty for Christmas and we had arranged to meet for a Christmas Eve dinner, deciding on a highly rated Indian restaurant. It was really lovely to catch up with them and compare our Kazakh experiences, and the Indian food was delicious. We spoke about what we’d usually be doing on Christmas Eve, and how we felt about spending it away from home. We met up with some others from my hostel for a pint at a bar and I was finally starting to feel a little bit Christmassy.
I woke up in my hostel dorm bed and smiled to myself - what an odd place to spend Christmas. I didn’t feel very Christmassy, but I didn’t feel sad so that’s something. I did some yoga in the common space, with the hostel kitten joining in providing a very cute start to the day. I went for a snowy walk in the park nearby, listening to more Christmas music, and then to a nice cafe for a coffee and pistachio croissant for breakfast. At home we always have croissants for breakfast at Christmas, so it was a nod to that tradition. It was strange to not wish the barista ‘Merry Christmas!’ and for her to not wish it to me. I read my book and journaled whilst I savoured my coffee, feeling really thankful for the opportunity to create a lovely Christmas day for myself. As I got up to leave the cafe, the barista placed a drawing of me on my table. It brought some Christmas magic to the day, and brought a huge smile to my face. I slipped the picture into my bag and strolled out onto the snowy streets feeling excited for the rest of the day. Back at the hostel I took my time getting dressed up like I usually would on Christmas day. Through a very tangential link, I had been put in contact with someone who was studying a masters in Almaty, and she had invited me along to her friends’ Christmas lunch. It was really wonderful and a whole lot of fun. It was a big group of masters and PhD students (and one erasmus student from Oxford, you can never truly escape it seems!) from the UK, Ireland and the US. Tara (the host) cooked up an amazing meal: beef wellington, roast potatoes, stuffing, gravy, the lot! We polished off numerous bottles of Soviet champagne and wine. My rocky roads went down a treat, alongside a huge spread of other desserts. The party continued until midnight and whilst it lacked trivial pursuit and cold turkey sandwiches, it was a very pleasant way to spend Christmas day and I was shocked at my luck to have found this group of people! Back at the hostel, I had a quick call with my family (them being 6 hours behind meant they were still enjoying their Christmas evening) and it was lovely to at least virtually see their faces.
It was a Christmas day of two halves. The first half I spent alone, really enjoying spending the day in my own company and appreciating the unusual slow and quietness of the day. The second half I spent surrounded by new friends, celebrating in the usual way. It was the most perfect Christmas Day away from home, and I feel so lucky it turned out that way! Just more proof that everything really does work out in the end.
It turns out that Christmas lunch was the just beginning of lots of adventures with this new group of people. I woke up the earliest I have ever woken up on Boxing day ready to meet some of them for a day of skiing at the nearby ski resort - Shymbulak. It’s only a 30 minute bus ride from the city which is so cool. We arrived at 9am and hired all of the kit, catching the gondola up to the resort. What followed was a full day of amazing fun. I’d never skied before so the day also included a lot of falling over for me, but that didn’t detract from the fun for a second. Even when I was being dragged along by one leg by one of the strange ski lifts, unable to unhook myself for quite some distance… The weather was ideal, bright sun and blue sky. As much as I love the traditional Boxing Day walk back at home, I might have to say that this was an even better way to spend the day! Exhausted from the full day on the slopes, we went out to a Georgian restaurant for dinner and the familiarity of the food brought back so many fond memories. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. It was one of the best days of my trip.
Fast forward a week and it’s New Year’s Eve! I’m still in Almaty, having being persuaded to stay by the lovely people from Christmas. I was staying with Oksana (thank you again!) and she decided to host a Russian NYE feast. I’ve been missing cooking so I was very happy to help. The entire afternoon was spent boiling every vegetable imaginable, then chopping them up, the basics of all Russian cooking it seems. Everyone seemed to enjoy the food so I’d say it was a success, and the Irish couple also joined which was great! At midnight we watched the Kazakh countdown and did both the Spanish (one of the guests was Spanish) and Russian traditions, making it a very stressful last 12 seconds of 2022. The Spanish tradition is to eat one grape for each of the last 12 seconds, and the Russian is to write a wish on a piece of paper (if you have very keen eyes you might be able to make out mine and Teresa’s wishes from the photo), burn it at midnight and place the burning paper into your champagne and drink the ashes. We forgot to factor in the fact that we were drinking from plastic cups however, so it was a bit of a disaster… But we made it to the new year - so happy 2023 everyone! We went out to a nightclub and were shocked to find it had snowed heavily whilst we’d been eating, so there was now around 20cm of snow on the ground. It was beautiful. We marched through this to the club, and I had my first taste of Kazakh clubbing. It’s the same as clubbing anywhere else, but with more russian music.
I can’t believe it’s 2023. The year I start my job as a lawyer (finally!). But that’s still 8 months away, with a lot more travelling in between. I didn’t think about making any New Year’s resolutions this year, but as I write this I think I will make one. To be more present. To appreciate each day and not worry about the next. I can feel the time flying by and I know I’ll be flying back to England before I know it, so I really want to enjoy the time I have left travelling whilst I’m out here! Something about the holidays has made me want to be extra mushy and say that I’m so thankful for all of my friends (old and new) and the effort they have put into staying in contact. Being away from them has made me appreciate all of them so much. I hope all of them have an amazing 2023 and I can’t wait to see everyone again this year!
No one is more surprised than me that I didn’t feel homesick over the Christmas period! I guess having no expectations about how the day would go, and being happy to just make it a nice day spent alone, might have helped. However, waking up hungover on New Year’s day did see me a tad homesick. My family were in Cornwall, swimming in the sea and walking along empty windy beaches - my absolute favourite thing to do in the winter. I wanted to be doing it with them. I missed getting soaked and cold and sheltering in a pub, drinking a pint of ale, eating a packet of crisps, and defrosting by the open fire. I missed hurrying around seeing friends before we all went our separate ways again. Once my hangover had worn off a bit, and I’d done some yoga and gone for a snowy walk and drank a nice coffee, I’m happy to say the homesickness had vanished. I’m glad I had one morning with its presence. It means the return back home in 7 months’ time won’t be all sad!
The people
Kazakh people are without a doubt the most friendly, happy and kind people I’ve met so far. People walk around smiling. People will go above and beyond to help you, and in a way where you never feel like they have an ulterior motive. I would return to Kazakhstan just to spend more time with Kazakh people.
The scenery
Not quite as desolate as I thought! The steppe is enormous in it’s bleakness, and this is something you really appreciate when travelling across it by train. But beyond the steppe there are a lot of natural features. There are pine forests, mountains, lakes, canyons. It would be worth visiting in spring to see the tulip fields, the rare birds and the greenness of it all.
The food
One word: oily. Everything is so oily here, and it did not sit well with my stomach. Ever since the disastrous experience in Albania my stomach hasn’t been quite right (a whole lot of bloating, fun) but Kazakhstan is the first time I’ve had more serious issues… Even the rice here is oily! Meals are basically meat (sometimes horse) with rice or broth or dumplings. Not a big fan. In Almaty there is a lot of Uighur cuisine, such as laghman (a noodle based dish), and also Korean cuisine. But I won’t lie, I thoroughly enjoyed the international cuisine on offer in Almaty!
The vibe
I’m so baffled by Kazakhstan. It seems to have lost its identity, making it impossible to get a clear impression from it in a short time. I couldn’t sum it up in one sentence, and I wouldn’t even know where to start in trying to describe it. It’s not the easiest country to visit. Hardly anyone speaks english, it lacks tourism infrastructure, it’s cold. To the ordinary person I’m not sure I would recommend visiting. Beyond the wonderful people, it doesn’t really have any other draws.
The religion aspect is interesting in Kazakhstan. It’s a muslim country in the same way that the UK is a christian country - in name and general belief but not really in practice. Women do not cover their hair, people drink and smoke, people do not go to mosque. But pork isn’t eaten and muslim holidays are observed. It was really refreshing to experience a relaxed muslim country, especially after the impressions I got from the very strict muslim areas of Turkey. But part of the reason for this relaxed approach isn’t pleasant of course, with it being from the ban of religion under the Soviet Union.
The cold
After the fear people were giving me, I was almost annoyed at how fine the cold was here. The coldest it got for me was -15 degrees, but this was first thing in the morning and it had warmed up to -9 by the time I was out and about. Even at the minus temperatures it was totally fine! The cold is a dry cold, which is different from England’s wet cold I’ve discovered. Yes it is a lot colder, and you can feel that when you’re outside, but it doesn’t make you as cold as when in England. The coldness doesn’t seep into your bones in the same way. I’d be quite toasty warm even after hours outside, but any exposed body part would really feel the cold. My eyelashes would feel icey against my face as I blinked. Breathing in, you could feel how cold the air was in your lungs. But it was perfectly manageable!
I flew from Tbilisi to Aktau on the 13th December. I knew I wanted to spend Christmas in Almaty so that gave me around 10 days to travel across the entire width of Kazakhstan. I decided not to venture up to the north, mainly because the only thing up there is Astana which doesn’t seem like anything special and it’s -30 degrees celsius. Here’s how I chose to spend those 10 days instead.
Route:
Aktau
This is the town I should’ve arrived into by boat from Azerbaijan. Instead, I arrived at 3am after my flight was delayed by 6 hours (!!!). Just another reason not to fly. I had one day to spend here before my overnight train to Aralsk. The town was quite nondescript so I walked down to the shoreline of the Caspian sea. It was surprisingly beautiful. There was ice all over the rocks and the water was clear. I strolled along the newly built boardwalk and enjoyed how happy all of the other boardwalk users were. I went down to one little beach and had a paddle, in homage to the Caspian sea that I should have sailed across, and because I knew I wouldn’t be near the sea again for months. I wished I’d brought my swimming stuff, but after having my feet in the water for a few minutes I was slightly glad I didn’t…
Aralsk
There’s already a full blog post on my time in Aralsk so check that out to read about the Aral Sea and the delightful brothel I stayed in.
Turkistan
What a weird city. After the dump that was Aralsk it was a huge shock to walk around this ultra modern and well maintained city centre. There was a huge shopping complex complete with a lake and boat water feature, an 8D cinema inside of a golden egg, and hidden speakers playing upbeat turkish sounding music. It was also completely empty. Most of the shop fronts were empty and there was hardly anyone around, giving it a ghostly feel. Across the flat, open centre was the reason I’d come to Turkistan, the Mausoleum of Khoja Ahmed Yasawi. It was my first taste of Silk Road architecture and it was beautiful. I loved the plainness of the front with its cement looking wall and beams of wood protruding from the arch. The bright blue mosaics covering the other three sides were of course breathtaking. And the dome, only visible when you were further away from it, was a delightful surprise. The inside was less exciting. I spent most of my two days here sitting in the sun and reading my book, always with a view of the Mausoleum. I remembered I had a tripod with me and put it to good use, having a bit too much fun taking some photos with the mosaic as a backdrop. I had a nice interaction with two young waitresses in one restaurant, who were very excited that I was from England and travelling alone as a woman. A third waitress jumped in front of me as I was leaving, blocking the exit and almost tackling me in doing so, so she could also speak to me and shake my hand!
Shymkent
Shymkent provided the in between vibe of Aralsk and Turkistan. It was a city but it was a bit of a dump too. I stayed with a lovely lady and her family from couchsurfing, enjoying homemade Kazakh cooking (meat and rice, or meat in broth… I miss Georgian food). I didn’t like Shymkent. I visited the botanical gardens, the ‘old’ town (it’s been renovated to give it a fake disneyland vibe, similar to the strange shopping centre in Turkistan), the soviet occupation museum (nothing in english) and just wandered around. There’s a strange mixture of modern areas, soviet monuments, and dirt roads with dilapidated buildings.
Aksu-Zhabagley national park
From Shymkent I somehow managed to get myself to the Aksu-Zhabagley national park. I contacted a guesthouse in the town of Zhabagley and the owner gave me very detailed and helpful instructions on how to get there. But of course it wasn’t as simple as it seemed. I got a taxi to the marshrutka station but it became apparent that there was not a marshrutka going to where I needed to go. Luckily, everyone was very keen to help me! One man drove me, for free, to a place where I could get a shared taxi to where I needed to go, and he arranged a place for me. The shared taxi cost 1000 tenge (£1.80 - so cheap!) and it took 1.5 hours to reach village number one (Vannovka). After asking around I eventually found the next shared taxi to Zhabagley, my final destination. Both cars were dumps and I’m surprised we made it but I did! I didn’t arrive until 12pm and it was too late to do my planned activity for the national park, so the owner organised it for tomorrow instead and I spent the rest of the day curled up on the guesthouse sofa doing some travel planning and reading, watching the snow fall outside. The owner of the guesthouse was very interesting. He was a Ukrainian biologist specialising in birds and was a scientist during the Soviet Union. He was sent to Turkmenistan to study waterfall birds and remained there for most of his life. He said being a scientist in the Soviet Union was pretty good - he was paid well, there was good collaboration between the Soviet states, and he got to go to interesting conferences held across the Soviet Union. He showed me a lot of photos he’d taken of birds, and his photography set up in the garden, complete with a camouflage tent.
My planned activity was, very excitingly, a horse trek. The guide brought the horses to the guesthouse and we set off a bit past 10am. It was just the two of us which was a very peaceful experience. The trek began with a boring stretch of road into the national park, but once inside it was stunning. We were trekking along little paths covered in snow. We went over little rivers, and through big snow drifts (this was my favourite part). We had all of the weather - snow falling with grey sky, everywhere white and grey; blue sky and sun brightening up the white landscape; and everything in between. We trekked until about 1pm, stopping at a little house. We gave the horses some lunch and walked on foot a short distance to a viewpoint of a waterfall. The water appeared and disappeared behind an ice wall. The scenery was stunning and the atmosphere was so peaceful. We ate lunch in the little house (cold pasta and peppers and sausage, bread, and gross chocolate. Washed down with tea). I took my boots off and rubbed my toes to get some feeling back in them. After several hours in the cold I was surprised that they were the only part of me that was cold! But they were very very cold. We trekked back the same way. Thankfully the view of the mountains surrounding us, the valley on one side, the hills we passed over, and the bushes covered in snow meant the scenery could never be boring. We took a short cut to skip some of the road when we were almost back, crossing through thick snow in a field instead. At 4:30pm we arrived back, I was shocked that so much time had passed, it had gone so quickly! I patted the horse goodbye and, with my completely numb and freezing feet, waddled inside to warm up.
Almaty
Almaty provided a breath of normality. After my interesting night in the anti-war Russian shelter (see my train blog post for details) I spent a few nights in a hostel where there were other travellers! I spent Christmas and New year’s here, but there’s a separate post on that. The city of Almaty felt much like a normal city - big streets, lots of shops and restaurants, lots of parks. I did very normal things here - went out for coffee and pints with people, went to people’s houses to watch a film with a takeaway, did some baking. I also did less normal things, taking advantage of the opportunities that winter in Almaty offered, like ice skating on the biggest, highest ice rink in the world. Whilst I was disappointed to discover my rollerskating skills did not translate onto ice, I was very happy to see the mountain backdrop of the huge Soviet ice rink. I also tried out skiing for the first time at the nearby ski resort, Shymbulak, which is only a 30 minute bus ride away from the city. As a much cheaper alternative to European skiing (the day pass cost £20) it was the perfect place for me to try it out. I enjoyed it even more than I thought I would! The whole experience was wonderful and I went a second time before I left, even managing a proper slope. After my initial time at the hostel, I moved to staying with the friends I made at Christmas which was so lovely. As they were a group of masters students, I really felt like I was back in London as a student. They were all styding post-soviet studies, which was ideal for me, meaning I finally found people who were as interested in talking about the USSR as I am (perhaps even more so)! It provided a little bit of contrast to travelling and was really quite nice. I’ve had the most amazing time with this new group of people, and want to give a shoutout to Teresa, Lucie, Oksana, Tara and Ari for making it so amazing (and also the guys!).
Almaty provides a great base for exploring the surrounding area too, allowing me to go even further east to Kolsai lake and Charyn Canyon. I did this on a day trip with a local tour company. The lake was frozen over and we could walk on it, going to see the ice fisherman. We stopped at several different points along the canyon and it was quite pretty, but it didn’t blow my mind too much. I definitely preferred the lake, and also the drive to the lake which was across the steppe, with snowy mountains acting as a boundary around it.
I had one more interesting experience in Almaty, which was going to speak at a Kazakh school. A guy contacted me through couchsurfing asking if I would come and speak to his students and I agreed. I was picked up in a taxi and driven 45 minutes outside of the city to a small village. I spent two hours with around 10 students ranging from 13 - 17 years old and it was a very casual conversation style talk. I introduced myself and then answered their questions on a huge variety of topics. They asked me about England, about travelling, about university, about my impressions of Kazakhstan. They asked me about the gender differences and dating in England, about my views on bride kidnapping in Kyrgyzstan, about the Russian-Ukrainian war. I asked them about their relationship with the Kazakh language, about how they view Kazakhstan, and how they feel about me only speaking one language. It was an enriching experience for all of us! They gave me some Kazakh food to try, including both horse and camel milk. Both were terrible, but the horse milk was definitely worse. They also gave me a gift of a traditional Kazakh hat which was very lovely!