Roses and Thorns

Time is passing. The summer heat has finally yielded to pleasantly warm days and cool nights. The mountains are capped with a new layer of snow. In a few days, I’ll pass the five-month mark of my time in Kyrgyzstan. I’ve learned a thing or two about this place over the past 150-some days. I thought it’d be interesting to share some of my  “roses,” my favorite things about Kyrgyzstan, and some of the…er…“thorns.”

Rose: Roses. Or simply flowers and plants in general. Most Kyrgyz people have vegetable gardens, but they also grow flowers and keep potted plants in their homes. I see a lot of jade plants here, which always reminds me of the jade plants my dad grew in my home in America. It’s nice to be among people who value the beauty of living, growing things.

Thorn: The myth that wind carries dangerous diseases. This myth is particularly frustrating on long, stuffy taxi/bus rides, when fellow passengers refuse to open windows. On my six-hour bus ride to Karakol, I was pleased with myself when I managed to grab a seat right behind an open window. But then, a young father seated near me asked that the window be closed, clearly convinced that the wind would infect his infant with a fatal disease. Not wanting to be the insensitive American who wants babies to die, and lacking the language skills to engage my fellow passengers in a discussion of how diseases are actually spread, I bit my tongue—and sweated it out—for six hours.

Rose: Fresh, delicious, bountiful, cheap, local produce. This is the stuff that yuppies and hippies in America pay the big bucks for—delicious tomatoes grown only miles away, deep pink watermelons, cucumbers by the bucketload, trees that offer more apricots and plums than anyone knows what to do with. In the winter, of course, this will change drastically. But, for now, it’s been darn good.

Thorn: Sheep fat. Specifically the widespread belief that it is 1) tasty 2) healthy and 3) will make you strong and capable of producing many children, and thus should be eaten often and in great quantities.

Rose: Families take care of eachother. Within a very short period of time, my host family in Toktogul took in an orphan (somehow related to us) who had nowhere else to go, and my host dad’s mother who needed care following a stroke. This is the norm here—in fact, there are very few nursing homes or orphanages here because they aren’t needed. Families are big, and very close-knit. When someone needs to be taken care of, Kyrgyz families step up and make sure no one gets left out in the cold.

Thorn: Kurut. I have to give the Kyrgyz people credit for finding some pretty creative uses for horse’s milk, but kurut is one I could gladly go without. It is horse’s milk boiled until it becomes solid, and is then formed into balls. At some point, an obscene amount of salt is added. Kyrgyz people eat this like candy. Personally, I consider it to be one of the more offensive things I’ve ever tasted. 

Rose: MOUNTAINS. The beautiful, beautiful mountains, everywhere you look. This country—particularly my little corner in Toktogul—is absolutely stunning. I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to spend two years in such a gorgeous place.