Lilac Satin Romance in Karakol

25 June 2009

From Bishkek, we trucked up to Issyk Kol, a huge lake and a centre for eco-tourism in Kyrgyzstan. Lots of grannies and kids selling dried fish along the way, which Cheryl bought and we had for an appetizer. One night camping on our way through. The lake water is so clear, and the smooth rocks are a hundred different colours along the bottom. It looked like the screen saver you get on iPods. But better.

Drove on toward Karakol, a Russian town that's admin centre for Issyk-Kol province and hence the tourism around the lake itself. The town is low-rise and feels like a frontier with wide dusty streets and ramshackle buildings. Apparently used to be prosperous but has fallen a bit tatty in recent years. There's a wooden Russian Orthodox cathedral tucked away behind flowering hedges, looking like something Hansel & Gretel would have built if they were contractors in Red Square. A decent restaurant completely lacking in any sort of atmosphere, but which offers decent stir fry and Kazakh soup and whatnot. And that's about it. In a homestay for the one night in Karakol run by a lady called Jamilya who looks like my mother would if she were Kyrgyz. Her rooms are all pastel-themed—as in pink, baby-blue, or buttercup yellow walls-rugs-lights-linens-furnishings. We got the Lilac Suite, complete with lavender satin bedspread embellished with a white ribbon-work heart at the centre and at each corner. No running water until evening as the main line in town is broken.

Yesterday we spent some time in the local market stocking food and drinking water for three nights camping in Jeti Oghuz Canyon, a steep valley...with more summer pastures. There's some bizarre red sandstone peaky things at the start of the valley forming a great splintered hill called Razbitoye Serdtse, or Broken Heart. Very mellow few days, I was on cook group the first day, which means three meals when in a bushcamp, but fortunately it was sunny and half my assigned group took off for a day's trek, swapping with Louise and Amy and resulting in a quite fun group to spend the day cooking with.

Cook groups work out to about 6 units and you're on until you do a dinner, meaning it's quite a while between days on (unless you're in group four which has had an epic run of five lunches in a row. David is in group four. Hahaha.). Breakfast is simple, as someone else is always up first and has it set up no matter what time is technically assigned. Lunch was homemade soup, with bacon and beans and tomatoes and whatnot tossed in. Dinner was brilliant: pork ribs (we saw the piggy's head at the butcher—fresh) marinated in Coke, Branston pickle, soy sauce, and ketchup. My new favourite marinade. I have often thought that not enough food involves the Coca Cola product range.

As a bonus to the bush camp, we quickly realized that the Rival Company, Dragoman, were camped a few hundred yards up the valley. Not with their truck, however, as it had broken a spring in Bishkek, so they were loaded into minivans, with some tents and a tarp between the vans for two nights. Needless to say, we felt a bit bad for them and also a bit superior. They came up for a pub quiz organized by Amy and Emma that evening, and a motlier crew you never saw. Dragoman lets you hop on and off their trucks in sections, so a bunch had just joined them in Bishkek; must be disappointing to have only two weeks to overland, and spend them without your truck. Some of them were lovely, some were slightly special needs, I reckon. Some campfire-envy going on: ours is bigger! Ours is more efficient! Etc.

To be honest, David and I didn't research this whole thing as well as we might have, but I truly think we've come out on top. Our truck is lusher, our food is infinitely better (Drago expect you to buy and cook meals on your own, whether you know how or not), we have chairs (they have stools), and we're ever so much better looking.

Pub quiz could have been brilliant, but my team included three Dragoman people: a Swede who did not speak English, a lovely Aussie who was already somewhat drunk, and an American who thought she'd have a better chance of getting into Iran if she dyed her hair dark. She is stupid.