After our horse riding adventures, we desired nothing more than a shower- at least I did. So we wanted to get to the next (slightly) bigger city, called Kochkor. We asked about a bus, and it definitely exists- but not just right now.
Great.
So we decided to hitchhike. We didn’t have to wait long, perhaps 15 minutes, before someone stopped for us.
It was a huge truck, pulling two enormous, fully laden trailers full of coal. The driver, and his helper of unknown relation were as friendly as they were dusty. The drivers cabin was large and roomy and the four of us easily fit, perhaps also because somebody had gone to the trouble of removing all the seats except the drivers seat and replacing them with a sort of bench, wide enough to stuff all our bags behind us and to sit in front of them.
So off we went. Just us, the two workers, and more than 51 tons of coal. Uphill, in the sweltering heat, over a pass of about 4.000m altitude. To say it was slow going is an understatement; while we were going uphill, it would have been easy to keep pace with the truck by walking next to it. Even if you would probably have to slow down a little, as not to overtake it. We stopped to refill our cooling water 3 times.
Neverthelss, it was an enjoyable journey, as nothing the driver as well as his helper were quite interested in us. There is a certain predictable routine as to how these conversations go:
First question is almost always “Where are you from?” We dutifully answer, “Germany, Germania. “
“Aaah, niemcy!” This usually meets with approval.
“Da, niemcy.” Sometime I throw in the bonus of explaining how actually, my family is Polish.
Usually, one of two questions follow. Either they ask if we are married; usually we answer yes, though we’re not. But the type of relationship we’re in, steady, living together, but not married, doesn’t really exist here.
The other probable question, which will definitely follow, if not even precede the other, is “Do you have kids?”
No, we don’t.
The reactions range to polite surprise, to the question “why not? “, and sometime even outright shock and worried enquiries about our health, especially if they hear how old we are. One particular gentleman in shop, after exchanging looks of disbelief and mortification with his friend, went off into a heated tirade. I only understood about every third word, but from what I gathered he ordered us to go back to Germany and IMMEDIATELY rectify our mistake and start having children.
Funnily enough, when we admit to being childless, the accusatory stares and awkward questions are usually not directed at me, but at Fred. Sometimes, they have helpful suggestions.
“Why no kids!? Fred, dawaj, dawaj!”
So while we trundled along the way, the driver informed us he was 33, and already had 3 kids. As the truck made it’s slow way up the mountain, he had plenty of time to show us pictures of his 2 girls and one son.
It took us about three hours to get there. But the shower waiting for us was worth it.
We stayed in Kochkor for one day to recuperate, even though the city doesn’t have much to offer. However, I’m very glad we did, as we met a lovely Belgian couple, Cheyenne and Felix. They managed to find the only place in Kochkor with decent beers and while we had our first drink in ages, filled us in about attractive sights and recommendations. They told us about a little village, halfway to Karakol (which would be our next big destination), on the shores of Issyk-Köl, called Tocor. Supposedly, it was a nice, relaxed place. And so it was. Following their advice, we stopped there and checked into the recommended guesthouse, although the owner didn’t seem too happy about it. However, she was just about as good a cook as promised, and we enjoyed her food immensely. The guest house had beautiful rooms in small bungalows, which were right at the beach.
Issyk-Köl is a huge, slightly salty lake and covers about 6000 square meters. It is famously warm and doesn’t freeze even in winter, hence its name: Issyk-Köl means warm lake in Kyrgyz. It’s beautiful, clear waters are a stunning blue and on good day, you can see the high, snow capped mountains on the other shore, marking the border to Kazakhstan. It makes for a stunning view.
It was a very relaxing stay- while the water was not particularly warm, the beach was mostly deserted. On one of our walks, we came across two young men, who had obviously just come off work and had driven their lorry to the beach for a quick after work dip. As we passed them, greeting them politely, they stopped us and held up a bottle and 2 plastic cups. “Cognac?”
We gladly accepted, and spent a pleasant moment with them, despite not really being able to communicate. When the men wanted to leave, they quickly realized that driving a heavy lorry to the beach might not have been the best idea- they managed to completely bury their left back tire in the sand. Despite our best combined efforts we could push the car out, so they called for help. It took a four-wheel-drive but they managed to pu free. That’s about the most exciting thing that happened, which was a nice change after all the horse riding excitement. Refreshed, we made our way to Karakol after a few days.
No właśnie, Fred! Dawaj!????????????