Bishkek

Bishkek is the capital of Kyrgyzstan. It sits at the top close to the border with Kazakhstan. I land in the early hours of the morning and lay my head in a room of black sparkly curtains, glossy glass chandeliers and beds that are close friends with a plank of wood.

When my eyes finally open I go for a wander under grey skies past grey buildings. There’s a lot of cement in Bishkek. There are a lot of buildings that were built by the Soviets who only left in 1992. The story is that the soviet building might be ugly but it is solid and can stand up to most things including earthquakes, but, oh lord, they’re depressing. An endless medley of brutalism in concrete. 90% of Kyrgyzstan is Muslim. But it’s loose Muslim, if that makes any sense. There are no burkas. No veils. There are many girls with headscarves and some that are closer to hijabs. And most of the older ladies were scarves which cover their hair in what seems like practical move. But there are more of the young who just wear their hair swinging around their heads, gloriously long and dark. School has started and everyone is in white and black. Walking home with bags of books in gangs. There are cell phones I am sure, but they are in pockets rather than glued to hands. The traffic is fairly chaotic. Almost all of the cars are old. All of them are filthy, covered in dust. There is no organized parking so people just stop at an angle, don’t even check to see if they are obstructing anything and move on. There are small markets for staples and everyone seems to be carrying bread.

I learn that bread comes before most everything here. It is ALWAYS on the table. If it is offered you cannot refuse. You should not lay the sculptured side of the bread face down. So many possible insults before even taking a bite. The currency is som. Which translates into big numbers. When you pull out a 500 som note for a large bag of shopping, you shake yourself down when you discover it is just over 10 dollars. I brought a shelf of snacks from Trader Joe’s with me. Following a travel article I had read that said “ snacks’ were a pro tip. Do you know how heavy bags of almonds and trail mix are? I think that may not have been the smartest move. There have been 5 presidents since the soviets left. The only one who went willingly was a woman. There are a couple who have sought asylum in Belarus and Moscow. They have bumpy pavements and then a whole avenue of flower beds. There are roads that turn abruptly into building sites and there are large empty squares where the concrete buildings have now been faced with marble.

There is a national guard who stand outside the National Museum like mannequins. And do a Monty Python dance every hour in their petrol blue uniforms as they swap positions.

Lenin was in the centre of Victory Square, but now he has been moved to behind the Library.

There is a new statue now. Of Manas who is the hero of an ancient poem that tells the story of the people. And there is a flagpole flying the national red and yellow flag, which was changed by one of the now deposed presidents, because the spokes around the wheel were curved and he felt that changing them to points made it more manly.

There is a mall and an outdoor market. The mall is full of silly stuff and Nathan’s hotdogs. The market is full of saddles and shoes and then the inside halls have every thing you would to make out of milk. Every type of rice and spice. And vegetables piled high alongside cheese balls so tart they sucks the saliva from your mouth.

There was an opera house, but nothing was playing for a couple of weeks. There is an Art Museum but it closed a few months ago. There is a circus, but it is shut. Bit it is the city that the young people want. With the university and the coffee shops and their friends and the music and the possibility of a foreign future. But there is much more country in this country than city…