KAZAKHSTAN: DINNER WITH TURISPEKOV FAMILY

Turispekov is a Kazah familie of four: Serik, Dana and two kids, 3 year old boy Mukhtar and eight month old girl Kausar. First, I met Serik on the street in Almaty (Kazakhstan). I had just crossed the border wit Kyrgyzstan dragging my half broken suitcase when Serik stopped to offer mi a ride. He's not an official taxi driver but the price he offered was the most reasonable one. You can't chose him, he can only choose you. So, I was the chosen one and I wasn't Ivana any more, I was Ivanushka from Kazakhstan and Serik was my Kazakh connection. He doesn't speak Englis, I don't speak Russian but we managed to understand each other. I tried to turn words from Serbian language into Russian language simply using the Russian accent. Sometimes it would work, sometimes it wouldn't. Serik had a solution when we didn't understand each other. He would call his wife, who's multilingual. Dana speaks Kazah, Russian, Chinese and English.

I hadn't book any hotel in advace and the one I had on my mind was fully booked. I was a kind of stunned but Serik took the things in his hands driving me to some spot where a lot of men and women standing in a row. As soon as he stopped tha car they approached to the car, throwing their heads through the window speaking with Serik in Kazakh language and trying to be a chosen ones too. Serik was talking back to them but I didn't understand a word. They looked excatly like a people who are offering their love skills late at night. I couldn't quite understand what I got myself into, it was dark and I got a bit afraid of the whole situation when one lady just opened the door and went into the car. Seeing me a kind of uppset, Serik called his wife Dana who explained me what was all about. At the moment Dana and I were in a kind of a virtual relationship. Serik called her every minute to translate for me. I was relieved when she told me that these people offer an accomodation. I thought I would have seen everything so far but this situation was quite new for me. It was like Air BnB alive. It was even better because I was able to see the apartment in person. Serik had warned me that they would offer me a higher price because I was tourist, so he tried to negotiate with them about the real price. After I had seen a few apartements, I choose the nicest and neatest one and Serik left when he had made sure that I was all set. 

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Next morning, I spent the most of my time looking for a public transportation to the National Park. When I realized it was a mission impossible to get there by publics means, I needed to call a Superman called Serik. I asked one Kazah lady, who also didn't speak English, to make a phone call for me. Serik had answered but he sounded like he didn't know who I was. I tried to remind him speaking English and "Russian" and whatever language I know because Dana wasn't at home. After a while, he remembered who I was  and he told me he was on his way to pick me up. I was waiting for him more than an hour. When he finally showed up and when he saw me unhappy, he explained to me that he needed to take care of kids because Dana was at work. To get myself relaxed, I tried to imagine Serik as a babysitter. He still looks like a kid, not like a person who can totally hold the kids under control. I just couldn't imagine him raising his voice on the kids. Most likely, he makes a mess taking care of the kids but luckilly Dana works only a part time.

This time conversation was not a problem because Serik had a google translation with him so we didn't need to bother Dana anymore. Our conversation went very smoothly just as we spoke the same language. 

It was a very hot outside until we reached the National Park with a beutiful lake 3000 meters above sea level. I got the chance to play in the never melting snow wearing a shortz. On the way back, we stopped to get some fresh water from the mountains when Serik invited me to try Kazakh kebab in the local restaurant with his familly. 

I was waiting for him again more then an hour. He showed up, with the car full of kids. Two of his that I had knew about and his eight year old niece Aida. They were all tired and sleepy, leaninig on Dana. He showed up with an excuse that people from Kazakhstan are always late. He's a kind of person you can't get mad at. 

Before Serik had orderd the dinner for everybody, Dana gave me a present: a woolen shawel and gloves. I was already surprised with unpredicted dinner invitation but the present was really something I didn't expect from someone who saw me for the first time. Is Serik so nice to all his customers? I don't think that all Kazah taxi drivers treat customers this way. So, why would I be the special one?

I didn't get used to eat sheep or goat meat, even beef has a strong aroma for me, so I was scared that I could stay hungry. I was waiting to try it anyway because I don't come to Kazakhstan very often. 

The meet was served on the longest skewers ever, cut into pieces. I took it one by one on my plate and when I tasted it was so soft and juicy that it would just melt right away in my mouth like a piece of sugar. That was the softest meet I had ever tried with no undesirable aroma at all. Maybe because of the strong fire, only strong barbecue taste had left and I really loved it. Dana had a dinner in the car, not in the restaurant with us, because the kids fell a sleep.

They invited me again next day for a dinner, but this time at their home. This Kazakh family just kept surprising me. They live in a simple but very warm apartmant with a lot of space for kids to play. Mukhtar brought his boxing gloves, a toy number one for Kazakh adult men as well, and showed me his skills. He knew that it was just a game so hi didn't give his best to me.  I love playing with kids because no language is necessary. Their way of communicating is universal. Kausar was a little bit shy and she started to cry as soon as I talked to her. She didn't get used to crowed, we hardly caught her on the camera, while Mukhtar was posing like a boxing champion.

Dana and Serik started talking about the kids. They explained me that families from Kazakhstan are big, they both have four siblings, but still that is nothing compered to their parents who have ten or more siblings. Kazah population is not endarged. They were surprised when I told them I have only one brother. Dana asked me if I feel too old for kids. When she got married at the age of 24, she was considered for being too late by the "village standards". Serik wants to have a lot of kids while Dana wants to take it slowly. She told me that whispering so Serik couldn't hear it. They told me the way they had met each other. A common friend introduced them to each other when Dana was still a student, without money, and Serik used to take her and her friend to the movie theater. He needed to put some effort in order to get her attention until she finally realized that he is a good man. 

Following a traditon of serving meat to guests, Dana brought a horse saussage as an apetizer and a big plate of nansalma which is made of noddles mixed with a beef stew.  It was the first time for me to try horse meet and I felt sorry because one of these free horses in the mountains ended up in my plate but I enjoyed tasting it. We were talking about my traveling around the world and I showed them all my pictures. By the time we finished the dinner it was a bed time for kids and Dana didn't want to let me go home until I see Kazakh's baby creddle. The creddle has a cover on the top and I told her I knew what's the creddle look like but then she showed me a little hole in the middle. The hole has a small pot inside and it goes together with a small pipe that helps kids to take a peepee at night without a diapers. It is more like a machine than the cradle. She used it more for Mukhtar but for Kausar it is just a sleeping cradle because it is much easier to put diapers. Mukhtar recognized his sleeping eqipment and he wanted to jump in but Dana explained him that he was too old to use it.

The reason why Dana and Serik invited me for a dinner was to introduce me to their Kazakh's tradition. I'm so grateful for that because there's no better way to find out about some culture then the locals showing you their customs. This is Kazakhstan everybody wants to see, I think. I would probably never be able to see this cradle anywhere, or I wouldn't be able to see the way it works. I didn't see a lot of places in Kazakhstan, but I saw a lot of Kazakh's culture. This cute couple made me feel like I was at home. This is exactly the way I would treat my guests and, most of all, I wish I can host Turispekov family one day. And, I am looking forward to wearing my new shawl and gloves.

The last time I saw Serik was on the way to the airport. He was on time, wishing me a nice trip.

SIMPLY KYRGYSZTAN

For almost 35 years of my existence, I've learned to appreciate life doing mostly the things I like and being mostly at the places I wanted to be. The more I work, the more I try to please myself. Accomplishing this ideas have been one of my greatest life achievements so far. 

This is exactly how I found myself in Kyrgyzstan, with no planning in advance and no overthinking. Some people do not even know if this is a real country. I've never heard of a single person visiting this country either. USSR had fallen apart leaving us in a trouble of memorizing all the countries which names are ending with -STAN.

Here I am, trying to make it more popular than any other "stan-ending-country". 

I found out a lot about Kyrgyzstan, believe it or not, from Asman, a taxi driver. On the way from the airport to the hotel, in a forty minute drive, he told me everything that I should know about his motherland. Like all other Kyrgyz, his eyes are horizontal, an Asian type, but he speaks Russian and that was a kind of confusing to me. He told me Kyrgyzstan is more Russian and European oriented. "Kazakstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan are not good", he said... It may be the reason all the mountains stand in between of these countries, to protect them from each other. National sport is boxing, so I wouldn't recommend messing with anybody from Kyrgyzstan. He also told me, the best fresh water in the world is coming from the mountains of Kyrgyzstan. I've never met anybody such a home proud. It seemed that he knew everything but the address of the hotel where he was supposed to droop me off. Without an obvious sign and  the name on it, Asman told me that the hotel I had booked is a love nest for people who don't want to appear together in public. Anyway, I had a pleasant stay.

Regardless monotonous architecture of socialism in Bishkek city, nature is the only ace in the hands of Kyrgystan. Summer and winter are present at the same time but not at the same place. While winter is keeping a distance in the mountains at this period of year, summer is coming close to people, putting smiles on their faces. Usually, I need to walk few days until I see the scenery, but in Bishkek I just needed to look through the window. 

On the way to the National Park Ala Archa in Tian Shan mountains, which is close to Bishkek, I saw horses, cows and sheep running around freely. If this is the sight of the capital city, what's the national park looks like? The route to the park starts about ten kilometers far and, when I realized there was no point of walking, I started  hitchhiking. I got some practice of hitchhiking back at the time of high school and that is, actually, the only really helpful knowledge from school that I can use today. Of course, I'm always cautious when I'm hitchhiking.

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After few minutes, I was in the car with two local girls and two local guys heading to park. Like everybody else from the city, they came here to throw a barbecue party. They spoke Russian language and I couldn't help asking them why they didn't speak their language. They answered that only old people from some far villages speak Kyrgyz language. This means that Kyrgyz language is about to dissapeard soon and this is the consequence of globalization that I really don't like it. This is happening to all the languages, changing and dying, not only to Kyrgyz.

I got the water on my mouth from looking at their barbecue accessories but I wasn't invited at the party. They seemed a little bit confused because my reason for visiting this country was simply a pleasure and they asked if the country I came from has such a beautiful nature. 

After hitchhiking, it was a time for some hiking through the park. I was invited for another party, the one with the nature, enjoying only the sounds of birds, mountain river and the wind. While I was hiking toward the waterfall high in the mountain, I met one more hitchhiker Milos from Poland. He's hitchhiking on some serious basis, from Kazakstan, passing Kyrgystan on the way to Nepal and China. We both got lost on the way to waterfall but Milos was not in a hurry. He had planned to spend the night in the Park and he found a good spot for his tent the half way to the waterfall. I got to the waterfall after two hours walking, little bit disappointed because it was not approachable and I could see it only from the distance but satisfied to be accompanied by birds and marmots. This is definitely the best company at the party. One small mountain marmot treated me with a song before he vanished into one of his holes. On the way down, the path was very steep and I needed my hands as well.

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Back to to the city, three local guys gave me a lift, asking me if Bishkek looks more like a village than the city and I said that is exactly why I like Kyrgystan. When I asked them what period of year they would recommend for visiting this country, they said that skiing or snowboarding during the winter can be as charming as riding a bicycle in the summer. I do believe them. I was interested in Kyrgys traditional food but they recommended me only two disheses because lately pizza and hamburgers are becoming the most popular food in Kyrgyzstan. 

Following the water from Tian Shan Mountains I got to the  Cholpon Alta city, on the Issyk-Kul Lake. Just putting my feet in the lake upon my arrival, I convinced myself that the swimming season hadn't started yet. Even the name of the lake means "hot" in the Kyrgyz language but the water in this period froze all my blood in the veins. Swimming season starts in July when the temperature gets closer to 40 degrees C and then I wouldn't mind for some freezing water. Still, it didn't stop Kyrgyz kids to jump in. They invited me in the water and laughed when I said it was too cold. I just stayed enjoying my view as if I was frozen for two days.

Mountains, rivers, lakes, clouds... Can I ask for more? I don't think so. Kyrgyzstan is a small country but with so much to offer. It does sound like some world's blind spot and that's the reason I choose it instead of some more popular destination. And I don't regret it. It is my spontaneous transfer from Azia to Europe and I still can't decide if it's more Azian or Europian country. But ther's that universal beauty which doesn't care for any ethnic identity, called nature. I don't think that this country is on anybody's wish list but I hope it will be in the future. I was very happy waking up every morning in Kyrgystan and I hope you will be too, if you come to visit!!!

NEPAL: FIVE DAYS OF TREKKING

When I came back from a five-day trekking tour to Kathmandu, I felt like having the world under my feet. It was a piece of cake and I finished the route before it had been planned, leaving my guide few hundreds of meters behind. When I had started walking it didn't seem I would have finished it at all. 

A travel agent nicely suggested me only three days of walking on the level of Kathmandu and I refused thinking that I had already had a good preparation of climbing to the last floor of the hotel where I stayed, with a luggage and with no elevator. I needed something that would clear my body from polluted cities where I had spent last few weeks. He gave me what I asked for. It was five-day trekking tour in Annapurna valley, from Nyapul to Ghorepani. I got my hipster's backpack ready and hit the road on the very hot day. 

Trekking route, that was planned for the first day, takes four or five hours of walking, leading through the villages which come one after another, all the way in the mountains. The road is made of stone stairs almost half of a meter high each. The path was built by locals, with no technology aids. Most of places provide trekkers with accommodation, food and, of course, with WI FI. Smartphones have found their way to the villages just like water in the mountains finds the way through the wholes in the ground. While I was walking, I tried to observe local lifestyle. It seemed like there is no distinction between man's and woman's job: women bring the stone from the river carrying it in the baskets attached to a forehead and some men cooking at the accommodation facilities. That was exactly what I had learned about the division of labor in the village through my university education. The difference between me and locals was that I did the trekking for fun and locals do it for a living: going to school or to work every day to another villages which is sometimes few kilometers far, always with the smile on their faces. 

My guide Binod told me that he is from Gorkha village that was trekking route as well but now has been destroyed in the last massive earthquake in 2015. He also said that the hotel which was behind the one I stayed in Kathmandu was destroyed in the earthquake. It is easy for any natural disaster to destroy such a places. Binod started trekking job as a porter which means he was payed to carry luggage for trekkers. The promotion into a guide must be a real relief. 

I realized that our conversation was supposed to set my thoughts away from the upcoming suffering. After an hour, I got a little bit tired when uncountable number of stairs appeared in front of me. It was harder than I thought. I needed to take the rest almost after every step so I pretended that I was taking a pictures even though I had made already a lot of photos. I met other trekkers on the way but two letter word "Hi" was all I was able to speak trying to save a breath for climbing. For a moment I thought why did I do that to my self at all. I could have chosen easier route and save myself or I could have just turned back. Binod was supposed to be like my personal trainer, supporting me with all fake expressions that I really hate to hear: "Come on girl", "You can do it", " Just keep going". He didn't say anything, these phrases seem to be only American way of support, not Nepalese. At that moment, the whole thing looked like Syzyf's work with my backpack as a rolling rock. Then, I saw donkeys passing by and, all the sudden, a solution came to my mind. I realized the only way I could get to the top was to do what donkeys do. I needed to stop thinking about the final destination and to go step by step. It worked out and I did get in Ulleri which is on 2010 m above sea level with my heart in one hand and my backpack in the other. It took me seven hours to get there, but who cares!!!  I was not in a rush. Of course, Binod chose the very last room at the very last facility in the village. But my nightmaire didn't end with my arrival. There was a big rooster, my worst enemy. Rooster had attacked me when I was little and, since then, I like to see chicken only in the soup or on the menu, as a main corse. Other trekkers gathered around rooster, to make my way, but the poor thing got confused from all that attention. Rooster came my way and I ran into the house of people I didn't know, to take a shelter. Everobody was laughing. I took a swim with sharks and a walk with lions through the jungle, but I've never got along with chicken.

As soon as Binod showed me the room, it started to rain. I just collapsed, already scared from seven hours of walking, scheduled for the following day. 

Next morning, fresh air from the mountains woke me up very early. The freshness was so sharp, like a hundred percent pure oxygen, that I could feel it even with the windows closed. I went out on the balcony to watch the sunrise. It was chilly but not cold because there was no wind. I felt the air cleaning my lungs like a chimney sweeper. I couldn't help asking myself what I breath in the city, but I didn't have a lot of time to think about pollution because it was time to hit the road again. This time, the villages didn't come one after another, there was a big green gap of trees between them and only the appearance of stairs meant that some village was close. All the trees hold the ground so strong that even a strongest earthquake can't move it. I could guess the age of trees counting number of roots that is on the surface like I could tell the age of an old person counting  wrinkles on the forehead. I found also a fresh water to drink ending up in a beautiful waterfall. Binod had told me it would be some flat terrain, so it was, but three steps of flat was fallowed by three hundred of stairs after. I was less tired this time and I didn't need so many brakes like the first day. I would just stop for a minute and then kept going. I think Binod was the one who needed a brake more than I did. But still I could see the shape of my heart on my shirt. I used the same technique of less thinking and keeping going further. 

After four hours I was in Ghorepani, on 2870 meters above sea level. It didn't look so bed, especially when I looked down and saw the entire Annapurna valley. The sound of OM was echoing around moving all my chakras at the right place. I could see mountains covered in layers of green until the last peeks which are covered by snow, like an outlaws, doomed to freeze forever, with the most wanted one somewhere on the distance-Mont Everest. These peeks were a shape of my cardiogram image. I just came to the destination and it started to rain. Two times in a row, it could be just a coincidence.

The third day was supposed to be already a kind of ascending but my life would be so easy if it was that simple. As soon as I saw hundreds of stairs in front of, my heart started beating faster, but I calmed down. I was really motivated to finish the stairs and started climbing like there was a magic bean on the top. And it was a kind of magic up there, I got a feeling that clouds are greeting and winking there eyes at me. It must be the altitude... Sometimes, mountain goats would accompany me not having a problem with a steep terrain. I wish I had such adjustable legs. I took a look once more at Nepal under my feet, rolled up my sleeves and started doing my job that was planned for the day. And I did it, in a five hours leaving some time for Binod to rest. He really looked exhausted. As soon as I arrived it started to rain. It couldn't be a coincidence. Did I bring the rain with me? Even if it was not a perfect condition for trekking I thought that plants didn't mind for some splash. 

Tadapani, 2660 meters above sea level, is a place of only few facilities to accommodate trekkers and it looked really busy. There was an older lady as a big boss and a whole family working for her. The rain started and I took a rest.

The forth day of my trekking tour was not supposed to be that last, but it was. It was scheduled as a short walk to Gandrukh where I was supposed to overnight but I was in a such a speed that I just couldn't stop walking. I saw a trekking tour that leads to Annapurna base camp and the altitude more then 4000 meters above sea level, which is not a joke, at all. I wasn't still ready for that. It is a snow there and I didn't have an equipment. Nyapul was only three hours far and I didn't need a brake at all. Binod was behind me, sweeting and taking a brake every once in a while. He was exhausted. I came in front of the hotel when the rain started.

This is how I turned five day trekking into a four day trekking tour. I feel great and I will do this again, but next time it will be a base camp. It is really a pity to be in Nepal and not to try trekking, however hard it looks. It is an amazing concept of spending the time in the nature. After all, handeling the stairs was much easier than handeling my ex boss. 

My childhood friend Anna is getting married soon, and she will ask me if Nepal is a perfect destination for a honeymoon. She can make up her mind after she reads my blog but one thing is for sure: I'll be in an excellent shape if I make it to her wedding!!! 

INDIA: WHO WANTS TO GET ON THE TRAIN?

I know for two kinds of trains in India. The first one is the famous one where the whole population of India fits on one train. The other one I had on my mind, is a little bit more romantic, like a Darjeeling Limited which was supposed to help me bonding with India and to find my inner peace taking me through the fascinating scenery of nature and culture of India.

The real question is HOW to get on the train in India?! This is a million dollar question! I succeed to get on the train once out of four times I had tried. 

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Train station is always packed with people, sitting on the floor and waiting for the train or something else...

I was in Mumbai and I went to the train station to buy a ticket to Ujjain. The first thing that had caught my eye was the number of people doing different things: sleeping or just taking a nap, eating, using every corner of the station as a public toilet. It seemed to me that the living in India was actually living on the train station. 

A huge schedule appeared in front of me, with non alphabetic letters, I saw some trains too, but I didn't know where to buy the ticket. Everyone I asked was sending me from one side of the station to another with no progress, at all.  It took an hour until a polite gentleman showed me the ticket office. What a lovely person, I thought for a second. His job was to show me a mess inside of the office so I give up on the train and buy a bus ticket from his agency. Lovely jobely, someone would say! There was a form I needed to fill up and the line I needed to wait in. I already didn't very feel very well from the heat but when I saw the line, I almost got a heart attack. Such a burocracy can't be learned from any sociological studie. 

It is normal in India that people are standing close to each other so they can feel each other's breath. If there's some space, somebody will just cut the line. That was exactly the way I got to the counter. A clerk started bombing me with the information. There are certain grades of traveling: non sleeper, sleeper, ac, non ac... It was difficult for me to understand his body language, typical in India. He was telling me one thing but turning the head in the negative way even if the answer was affirmative. We spent some time trying to understand each other and when I finally got the money out of my pocket for the ticket, he told me there were no available tickets. But, that was not the end of the world. He suggested me to make a reservation, to pay for the reservation and to show up on the station. I would be able to get on the train only if somebody canceled alredy existing reservation. I couldn't believe that all that paperwork was for nothing. It was too risky for me so I just took a bus.

In Ujjain, on the way to Jaipur, was the same procedure: looking for the box office, endless lines and no tickets at the end. There was a board with an announcement that the system has been computerized which didn't make things easier. Inside of the ticket office, people were fighting with each other and with clerks. It was a chaos until police came and make them standing in line. I had a chance, once in a lifetime, to see locals standing in line. It was my turn whe the window shut down because of a lunch brake. When police left the office, the line was gone, too. And, I just took a bus. 

In New Delhie, I tried to book the train to Agra and Taj Mahal. A short guy appeared in front of me, telling me that the entrance was few blocks far even if I saw people entering the station. 

"It is for locals only. You can't buy a ticket here", he said, showing me the bus schedule. 

Beside his intention to make a business, it was an act of discrimination, too. Maybe I wasn't good enough to travel with locals? What an irony! Mahatma Gandhi spent his life fighting for equal rights on the train and now there is a special price for tourists in his country. Unfortunately, that short guy was right. It turned out that hiring a private car would be easier and cheaper. Plus, waiting in line to book the ticket would last as much as building of new Taj Mahal. I found two more tourists thinking the same to share the expanses with. Catching somebody to travel with made me look just like that short travel agent in front of the station.

To book the train to Allahabad was my last chance and I finally I got a jackpot. Three weeks of trying payed off. I had also a chance to see that famous waiting list. People were looking for their names on the list like their life depended on it. 

I got on the train and I fell a sleep to the sound of my roomate's snoring. The following day, I woke up with no romantic experience but, at least, at the destination where I wanted to be!

Namaste!