Life in Bishkek

Manty with Sour Cream in the top photo. Laghman (on the left) in the bottom picture.

We are a little over a quarter (or an eighth depending on what the future holds) of the way through our time here in Bishkek, and I thought it was time for a few comments on the peculiarities of life here. Because I know that you are all waiting on pins and needles for the spring thaw so that you may book your airline tickets to Kyrgyzstan for a visit. Here are a few helpful tips on life here in Bishkek.
Be prepared to eat loads and loads of Laghman and Manty. Every restaurant serves them and they are sure to cross your plate at some point, especially if you go out in a group with at least on Kyrgyz person in it. Laghman is a mixture of noodles, vegetables and some type of meat, often with a good dose of oil thrown in for good measure. It is the Kyrgyz national dish and is actually quite tasty although I’m not sure how some people manage to eat it every day. Manty on the other hand are an acquired taste. They are golf ball sized dumplings which contain a mixture of onion, mutton and mutton fat. The mutton and mutton fat are placed into the dumpling cold and as the manty cook the fat dissolves a bit. The ratio to mutton and mutton fat is about one to one, so when you bite into it a nice stream of liquefied fat shoots out. I’ve already stained a couple of suits and ties that way. The Kyrgyz love them and tend to look at me with disgust as I try to separate the pieces of fat from the mutton. The fat is considered a treat here and I am committing some type of mortal sin when I do this, but four out of five cardiologists recommend avoiding large chunks of fat for their patients who chew fat – so I abstain. Chunks of fat find their way into a lot of dishes over here, so be prepared to discreetly spit into quite a few napkins.

Then there are the cell phones. There are only a few cell phone companies here in Bishkek and the standard phone that is carried by 99% of the people here including Irene and myself are made by Nokia. So if 99% of the people have the same phone, about 80% percent of the people have the same annoying “Nokia” ringtone. No matter where you are or what you are doing, if you hear the “do-do-do-doo, do-do-do-doo-do, diddle doo-do-do-doo” every person within one hundred feet digs for their phone and then looks around to see who the bastard who actually received a call was. There are also absolutely no social taboos about using a cell phone here. Talk where you want. At a funeral and need to reach out and touch someone? No problem, dial away it won’t bother anyone here. It is also COMPLETELY acceptable to answer your phone under any situation. In every high level meeting I have been in, the Kyrgyz right down to the most junior member of the meeting will pause mid-word and answer his phone as we all sit and wait for him to finish his sentence after he talks to his girlfriend or wife, or whomever. I kid you not when I tell you that I sat in on court one day and watched as the prosecutor answered his phone in full voice as the judge was questioning a witness. He talked for the better part of a minute before getting back in the game – truly amazing. I pictured how that would fly in a courtroom in the States “ladies and gentlemen of the jury, all the evidence points to one person as the heinous murderer ...( do-do-do-doo, do-do-do-doo-do, diddle doo-do-do-doo) Hello, yeah, I’m kinda busy with my closing argument, why? What’s up? The County Clare, huh? …. Yeah, probably. He did? Well what did he say? Yeah that’s cool. Listen, the creepy looking lady with the lazy eye in the second row who is probably voting ‘not guilty’ is looking at me funny, so maybe I should go … Sorta, I mean what’s the difference between cross-eyed and lazy eyed anyway? Oops, now she’s pissed ... gotta go!”

Then there is the change situation. It typically goes like this ANY TIME I make a purchase here. The calculator or cash register will read something like “278 com (Kyrgyz currency).” I will hand the sweet young Kyrgyz lady a 500 com note. She will look at it as if it fell in the toilet. She will turn back to me and say in Russian “Вы имеете точное изменение?” I will say “nyet” because I know she is asking for exact change and I have a hard enough time doing math in English, let alone Russian. She then replies “Почему вы имеете точное изменение?” I say “nyet” again because I’m still not doing the math. She then curses at me “Дайте мне *#$%& точное изменение прежде чем я stomp на ваших тестикулах?” and reluctantly gives me my change which may or may not be rounded up or down depending on the lunar alignment. I have asked my Kyrgyz colleagues about the unnatural national obsession with exact change and they have no explanation for it. It is virulent and universal here for whatever reason. It is often augmented by the fact that they dislike “big bills,” in most cases a 500 com note (about $12). This is far more understandable given the low cost of most things here, but still annoying none-the-less.
Getting back to food for a moment, be prepared to order approximately 53 seconds after receiving your menu. This applies whether the menu is in Russian or English. Speaking of which, the English used in the menus here is hilarious. They are almost as hard to decipher as the Russian. My personal favorite is “herring under a fur coat.” Not quite sure what that is, but how can you not be intrigued by that visual? You also have to understand that the food does not necessarily come in any order or follow any logical pattern. When the food is ready it comes out. Some people eat and others wait. Appetizers may come after your main course and vice-versa.

And, finally, there are the street dogs. They are everywhere and you can hear them barking all over town at night. They come in every shape and size. They are filthy and run down by life on the street, but it interesting as hell to watch them as they dodge people and traffic while keeping an eye out for food. That is until they form a pack and chase you down the street in the middle of the night. I’m sure it must have been hilarious to watch these knee high mutts chasing me down the street barking wildly as I wildly flailed my arms to make them scatter a bit. I was about two inches from rabies at several different points during my run towards the house.

So there you have it, a few helpful tips for getting by on the other side of the planet.

Ош

This past week I travelled to the second largest city in Kyrgyzstan to oversee a Tax Evasion and Money Laundering program being put on for the prosecutors in the southern region of the country. The city is Ош (pronounced "Osh"). While it may be the second largest city in the country, it makes Green Bay look like New York by comparison. There are two ways one can get to Ош. You can drive for thirteen hours through steep winding roads and a single mountain pass which may or may not be closed depending on the weather, or you can fly for 55 minutes. It seemed like an easy choice up until the moment I got to the airport.

Upon arriving at the airport things were going really well. We were on time and even found a non-smoking waiting room which is a rarity in this part of the world. As we waited for our flight to depart I looked out at U.S. Air National Guard planes which were waiting to be loaded with supplies for our troops in Afghanistan. I thought about my flights in and out of Iraq in similar aircraft. While I was daydreaming, I blinked and the next time I re-focused on the planes they had disappeared in a dense fog. It had gone from beautiful to crappy in about thirty seconds. I knew we were not flying out to Ош that night. Of course, it took about another two hours for someone with the airline to officially cancel the flight.

The next morning I awoke and it was still a bit foggy, but I was fairly sure that we would fly out that morning. We went to the airport and did the same routine as the night before. Unlike in the States, however, when there are cancelled flights things work a bit differently. As you know, in the U.S. when a flight is cancelled due to poor weather the airlines re-book passengers on a different flight. Here they tell you to return with your ticket and wait for your flight to take off in the order that it was cancelled. So if you were the third flight in line prior to the flight being cancelled, you will be third the next day as well. As we were waiting for our flight which was third or fourth in line, I was grabbed by my Kyrgyz colleague and told to quickly get in line and "cash in my ticket." Apparently there were six open spots on a flight that was leaving in a matter of minutes. Somehow we simultaneously checked our bags, cashed out our old tickets and purchased new tickets. No extra charge, no need hassle, and apparently this is a common practice. It has been many many years since I actually had anything other than an "e-ticket," so it took me back a bit to a time when having an actual airplane ticket meant something.

As I was feeling the nostalgia of carbon copy tickets and no fee airlines, I got my first look at the airplane. The plane made me think of times gone by as well, like the late 1960's when I was about -5 years old. I'm not sure what caught my attention first, the somewhat warped propellers, or the engines behind them which were black with many decades of smoke and oil accumulation. As I climbed the fold out stairs and ducked my head to get inside I saw about four or five holes in the fuselage which had been patched and painted over. Upon entering the plane I was hit with the strong odor of gasoline and exhaust. I went to sit in my seat and put my laptop in the overhead compartment. There was a mean looking "Babushka" (grandmother/old lady) in my seat and there were no overhead bins, just a rack like one might find on a bus or train. Despite showing her my ticket and having my colleague address her in Russian, this Babushka apparently liked seat 9 D and was not going without a fight. My colleague asked if I would just sit in a different seat. Of course this was fine until the next angry Babushka came and wanted to sit in her seat, which was now my seat. Finally, after bouncing around a bit someone convinced this woman that she had to move to her assigned seat. She cursed or something as she pushed past me.

Now I had my seat, and what a seat it was. My seat, along with every other was extremely old and broken. These seats didn't just recline, it was their default position. Picture an entire plane load of people with the head of the person in front of you placed squarely on your lap. Not to mention it was a most uncomfortable position, not quite laying down, but not quite sitting up. As I stared out the bottom of the bubble window (picture the window on the submarine in Disney's 1950's classic 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) which was now just above my head, I saw a worker pulling some type of machine up to the propeller engine which apparently gave it a jolt and started them spinning despite what seemed like a bit of resistance. I had to wonder if there was another individual with a hand crank in the front.

We set off down the runway bouncing the whole way. I noticed the bald (I don't mean "balding," I mean bald) tires on the landing gear. I also noticed a wire which had detached from something on the landing gear and was now flapping in the breeze. Those of you who know me well know that I really don't have a problem with flying other than on long haul flights where you are trapped in a seat for fourteen hours. My mind rarely ponders things like wings being sheared off, or mid-air explosions. At about ten feet off of the ground I began to worry about wings being sheared off and mid-air explosions. As we flew over the snow covered Tien Shien mountains which were beautiful and majestic I began to relax a little. My mind now wandered to the Uruguayan Rugby team which crashed in the Andes and managed to survive for 72 days by eating their fellow passengers. So while I was still pretty sure we would crash, I chose to see the glass as half-full and was now certain I would somehow find the will to survive and that mean old Babushka was going to be on the menu.

Unbelievably, we landed in Ош about an hour later. I watched as the runway took what was perhaps the final layer of rubber off of the tire beneath my window. I would have kissed the ground, but I had my bag thrown at me from the luggage compartment before I could complete the act. In all, the flight went more quickly than I thought it would. And on the bright side I have discovered that the mixture of fuel and exhaust makes me almost as groggy and passive as Ambien.

The training went well. The flight back was similar only on a slightly newer plane. I would place its construction sometime in the early 1970's. The seats actually worked in this one which was a bonus.

Baby Love

I have found a wonderful volunteer opportunity with a German Non Governmental Organization (NGO) Uplift-Aufwind. I will be going to the local orphanage to do massage on a baby and also will be working with their Mother/Child project to prevent child abandonment. Children in orphanages do not get a lot of bonding time with adults because of the high child to worker ratio. It is reported that many of these children are behind developmentally and some will not even maintain eye contact. The idea is to massage the child at least twice a week to help them bond with adults and experience touch and affection. I will be assigned one specific child so that I will always work with the same one. In this way, the child will learn to anticipate my visit and gain benefit from a routine schedule.

I am also sponsoring a mother through the Mother/Child project. She is a single 19 year old who has a baby about 3 months old. She was considering giving the child up for adoption but Uplift-Aufwind visited her and offered financial support and advice on bonding with her baby. I will sponsor this mother by giving her a certain amount of money each month along with other donations. I followed the Program Manager for a visit to this mother and had the opportunity to see how she struggled with the decision to give her child up for adoption. She seemed very hesitant to bond with her child because she wasn’t sure she wanted or could keep the baby. Even though there was a language barrier, the Program Manager was translating for me. I cannot imagine the weight that was on this girl’s shoulders and what was going through her mind. The Mother/Child project seeks to give these mothers another choice by offering them both financial support and guidance on bonding with their babies. Over here there is not much of a child welfare program so many poor, young, single mothers are left on their own. This particular mother was staying in a home that takes in poor women who are living on the street. When I heard about this project I knew I had to be involved. I am sure that it will be challenging at times but will also carry many rewards. I will keep you updated and will post pictures if possible.

Russian Snack - by Irene

Dan and I went out for drinks the other night and stopped at an interesting bar next to the Russian Embassy. The place had a post modern feel with blue neon lights shining. Almost like an American diner renovated with a 1950s vibe. The waitresses were in sky blue outfits that made them look like old fashioned stewardesses, complete with the pillbox hat (although minus the friendly skies attitude).

The item on the menu that caught Dan’s eye was the “Russian Snack”. It was described as salted fish, potato, salted cucumber and mushroom. What we got was about five small pieces of a very salty fish, probably herring, with the skin, slices of boiled potato, pickles and a pile of soft slimy mushrooms. Now, while it may not sound very appetizing, it was actually not that bad. The fish had a strong ocean taste that cut the salt and it went quite well with Dan’s light pilsner beer. Also, I love seafood and have been going through withdrawal while over here, so I welcomed the fishy ocean taste. The boiled potatoes were what you might expect, but the mushrooms were actually what surprised me the most. I normally love mushrooms (the white button kind and portabella). However, these had a slime so thick it mixed with the fish juice which then seeped over to the potatoes. The mushrooms gave off a long snail-like trail when you would put one on your fork. Further, they were impossible to chew, almost like a piece of squid. That was probably the least appetizing part of the whole snack. That being said, the “Russian Snack” seemed pretty popular there. The bar was full of mostly men drinking either shots of vodka or light beer and sharing these snacks. While I can’t say it was my favorite, it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth – that title goes to liver pate.

Happy New Year

The photos don't really do justice to the scale of the celebration.

Many cities around the world have their unique New Year's Eve traditions. New York has Times Square, Paris fireworks at the Eiffel Tower, and in Milwaukee idiots fire guns in the air and pretend that bullets disappear into the ether. I have to say, however, that I think the coolest New Year's Eve celebration I have witnessed has been here in Bishkek. Yes, Bishkek.

In the past few weeks all over town there have been card tables set out on street corners with Kyrgyz gentlemen selling large colorful sticks about a foot or two in length. I really didn't pay too much attention to it at the time. Come New Year's Eve it became readily apparent that these colorful sticks were in-fact high grade fireworks.

At midnight, all over the city there were extremely loud and colorful fireworks displays. I'm not talking about a few people shooting off bottle rockets and firecrackers in a their neighborhoods. I am talking about industrial grade, professional type fireworks exploding all over the city, everywhere. Whether looking out the front, side, or back windows, it did not matter. They were even going off up by the mountains. If you shot one of these things off in the U.S., or even had one in your possession without an ATF license, you would be arrested on the spot. They are apparently not concerned with burning down the city (given the concrete Soviet style buildings it is probably not a high concern). I watched as some partiers piled out of the nightclub outside the gates of our apartment building, went out into the street filled with cars, and shot off these monsters. Multiply that by about a hundred or two hundred times and that was what Irene and I saw as we hung our heads out the window in amazement. I guess this is a benefit of having a porous border with China. The fireworks went on throughout the early morning and even the next day. I understand we will have another display tonight, which is Russian Orthodox Christmas Eve. I suspect that even though only 20% of the population is Russian Orthodox, the Kyrgyz won't let the opportunity to shoot off some fireworks pass them by.

Christmas

Irene and I celebrated Christmas in Kyrgyzstan by attending Christmas Eve mass at the only Catholic church in the country. The entire mass was in Russian which made things interesting, but fortunately as those of you who are Catholic already know, you can attend mass pretty much anywhere and it is very predictable. Even when you don't know what is being said, you can understand what is going on. The only difference is that here in Kyrgyzstan they do not seem to adhere to the "one-hour-and-I'm-outta-here" rule. So after the children of the parish put on a pretty weird telling of the birth of Christ (if Fellini had directed a church pageant, it would have looked a lot like this), we finally began the mass. Normally, I don't think we would have been so bothered by the time factor, but it was almost eight o'clock before the actual mass started and we had not eaten dinner yet. Since it was a roast, it was getting more and more likely we weren't eating dinner before midnight unless things picked up. They didn't.

The next day we exchanged gifts and went to a colleagues house for Christmas dinner. Nothing too significant happened on Christmas except my Nintendo Wii blew up when I plugged it into the converter which is supposed to keep your stuff from blowing up.

The strangest thing about celebrating Christmas in Kyrgyzstan is that it is just another day for 99.9% of the population. Even the approximately 15% of the population which is Russian Orthodox celebrate their Christmas on January 7th. There are, however, some pretty significant advantages to this set-up. First, there was absolutely no last minute rush at the shops when I went shopping on the 23rd. Second, every business in town is open unlike in the States, so if you need something from the store there is no sense of panic that it is closed (there is, of course, the normal sense of panic that there will not be anything that is recognized as edible). Finally, we went shopping on the 26th and there were no no middle-aged housewives tearing each others' eyes out trying to be the first in the Wal-Mart so they could save fifty cents on wrapping paper. Christmas in Kyrgyzstan has certain advantages.

The above photos probably deserve a little explanation. These decorations have been up for a few weeks now in the center of town. There are also a plethora of young Kyrgyz couples dressed up as "Father and Mother Winter/Christmas" who will allow you to take their picture for 20 com (about fifty cents). While the lights and the decorations may look like an acknowledgement or celebration of Christmas, the trees, lights and snowmen have far more to do with New Year's Eve than Christmas (although admittedly the lines are blurred between the two). Under Soviet rule, religion was banned and, therefore, New Year's Eve took the place of Christmas as the big winter holiday. Gifts are exchanged, vodka is consumed, families get together, etc. Nonetheless, it is nice to walk downtown and see a little bit of holiday cheer.

We hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and has a safe and happy New Year.

A Weekend Getaway Kyrgyz Style

Here are some shots of the mountains along with a local Mosque and a Russian Orthodox Church.

This past weekend Irene and I set off for a weekend of semi-adventure in the Lake Issyk-Kul region of Kyrgyzstan. It was about a six and a half hour drive through considerable mountains and valleys to get to our destination. Although the trip was ostensibly for the purpose aiding in the fight against corruption, I was more interested in seeing Lake Issyk-Kul and the Tien Shen mountain range. We travelled with my fellow DOJ employee and her driver which allowed for plenty of sightseeing without the hassle of having to navigate the mountain roads ourselves.

We stayed in a B&B in the town of Karokol which is situated on the western edge of Lake Issyk-Kul (which by the way is the world's second largest alpine lake). As we approached the B&B I think Irene and I were having the same thoughts as row after row of dilapidated houses appeared before us. We pulled into the drive of the B&B and there were still many questions which had not exactly been answered even by observing the outside of the guesthouse. As we walked inside I knew this could be one long and miserable weekend based on what was waiting on the other side of the door. Much to our relief we found an almost impeccably clean establishment with modern facilities, a nice decor, and hot tea and plenty of homemade baked goods awaiting us. Irene seemed particularly taken by the six different types of homemade jam which Chinara, our host, had placed on the table. Breakfast was quite good with fresh yogurt, eggs, meats, cheeses, and all of the fresh baked goods you could throw down your gullet.

On Saturday, after doing a little work, we were treated by one of our local employees to a traditional Kyrgyz meal served when special guests are around (presumably that was us). As we arrived at the table in a local restaurant we were greeted with assorted fruits, nuts, salads, vegetables, juices, breads, and the omnipresent bottle of vodka. We all declined vodka, which was promptly ignored by our hosts. They asked again if we wanted some vodka. Again we declined. This continued until it became clear that we were not going to win this battle of wills. "Sure, chut-chut ("just a little" in Russian)." Our glasses were filled. Irene wisely mentioned wine just before the vodka hit her glass and received some sort of red vintage. The meal was fantastic. In addition to the aforementioned items we had soup and fish. Thinking that I would drink one swig of vodka and be done with it, I downed the shot in front of me. It was promptly refilled. Mmmmmm, vodka and fish, now that's living. I left my glass full for the remainder of the meal figuring that I would rather be ungracious than puking fish behind a Kyrgyz dumpster.

Just when we all agreed that we could not eat another bite we were informed that the star attraction of the meal and the Kyrgyz national dish "Besh barmak" ("five fingers," i.e. you eat with one hand) arrived. Besh barmak is a mutton or small horse which is cut into five or six pieces depending on your guest list, and distributed by order of seniority and importance of the guests. My DOJ colleague who is older and certainly more important than I was given the first slab of fat and meat. I would approximate it's weight at about 30 - 40 ounces. I then received the back leg and shank of the sheep. There was certainly a lot of meat there if you could perform enough surgery to get through the layers of skin and fat. The round robin continued until the 15 year old brother of our host was served a plate of whatever-the-hell-is-left-over-after-you-slaughter-a-sheep-and-give-out-all-the-good-parts. The besh barmak is not complete until a "broth" of fat is placed next to the animal slab along with a bowl of noodles and .... wait for it ... fat. We were told that tradition does not dictate that you eat the entire thing, just as much as you want. You must, however, take home the (in my case) shank for nibbling later that evening. Also, since we had not finished the vodka we had to take that as well. As we left the restaurant it was comforting to know that if we went off the road and were stranded on a mountain cliff we would have mutton and vodka to sustain us for at least a week or two.

After a fresh evening snowfall, we decided not to chance being stuck in Karokol so we left earlier than planned in order to get back to Bishkek with plenty of time to spare. We stopped along the way to grab some photos of the mountains and the lake. All in all it was a pretty great weekend getaway.