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Kyrgyzstan
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Kyrgyzstan is a small mountainous country in Central Asia, landlocked and largely unknown to the general public, with a past of Soviet dominance and a present of geopolitical instability. It borders China, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan, with no access to the sea, but with distinct natural beauty: mountains cover over 90% of its territory, along with high plateaus, lakes, and valleys. Nevertheless, it remains one of the poorest countries of the former Soviet bloc, with high unemployment and a significant dependence on remittances from migrants.
The name of the country comes from the Turkic word Kyrgyz (forty) and Stan (land), the land of forty tribes, as mentioned in the mythological epic of Manas, the national hero of Kyrgyzstan.
Politically, it is troubled, with uprisings, government overthrows, and tensions with neighboring countries. In its foreign policy, it balances between the influence of Russia, China, and Turkey.
In the heart of Central Asia, Kyrgyzstan was for centuries a crossroads of nomadic tribes. After the conquests of Genghis Khan (13thโ15th centuries), the area of Kyrgyzstan became part of the Mongol Empire, specifically the Chagatai Khanate, which covered a large part of Central Asia. The dissolution of the Mongol state led to the formation of smaller local khanates (nomadic kingdoms of Asian peoples). In the 19th century, the Russian Empire began expanding into Central Asia, and in 1876 the Kyrgyz people were gradually incorporated into Russian administration. In 1991, it was reborn as an independent state, carrying a deep identity but lacking strong international presence. Today, it is one of the most authentic corners of Central Asia.
The Tulip Revolution in 2005 led to the ousting of then-president Askar Akayev from power. The revolutionaries denounced corruption and authoritarianism by Akayev, his family, and his supporters.
In Kyrgyzstan, as in other Central Asian countries, the typical dwelling of nomads is the yurt. It is a large, portable, circular tent made of a wooden frame and covered with sheepโs wool felt, providing insulation from both cold and heat. Nowadays, plastic tarp is used as the outer covering. The top opening of the yurt, with its central ring, is a national symbol and is depicted on the flag of Kyrgyzstan.
People
The Kyrgyz are a nomadic people at heart, even if they now live in cities and apartment blocks. Of Turkic-Mongol origin, with Asian features and a language similar to Turkish, most of them maintain strong ties to tradition, and their social life is characterized by strong family and friendship bonds, and a love for horses and yurts. The majority are Muslim, but with a mild, folk Islam, far from fanaticism. In the villages, you will be offered bread, butter, sour cherry preserve, and of course kumis, fermented mareโs milk which is the national drink of the country. In the cities, you see a youth split between modernization and technology, but also Soviet habits. They are a poor people, but proud, dignified, courteous, and very hospitable.
Places
Kyrgyzstan, although relatively small in area, contains a variety of landscapes: cities with a Soviet past, snow-covered mountains, remote lakes, waterfalls, and nomadic villages that seem from another era.
The starting point for most visitors is the capital Bishkek, a relaxed, fairly green city with traces of the Soviet period on every corner. From large squares with statues of Lenin, the imposing Parliament building, and quiet parks, to the bustling Osh Bazaar where locals sell all sorts of goods.
Very close to the capital lies the national park Ala Archa, a nature haven with gorges and hiking trails in an alpine setting.
To the east of Bishkek stands the Burana Tower from the 11th century, a remnant of the old Silk Road. Along the same route, you reach the vast and enigmatic Issyk Kul lake, a salty alpine sea, deep and warm, that never freezes.
At the easternmost edge of the lake, the city Karakol combines a Russian colonial past, Muslim communities, and trekking tourism. Here lies the starting point for the countryโs top hiking trails: to Altyn Arashan, an alpine valley with hot springs, or to Jeti-รgรผz, a photogenic area with red rock formations.
Further south, on the relatively inaccessible plateau of Song Kul, the landscape becomes even more captivating: a tranquil lake at 3,000 meters, with no trees, no buildings, only horses and yurts. It is perhaps the most authentic part of Kyrgyzstan, where nomads still live in the traditional way.
On the other side of the country, in the south, stands the oldest city of Kyrgyzstan, Osh. Built at the foot of the sacred hill Sulaiman-Too, which has been considered a place of spiritual power since pre-Islamic times, this city was a stop on the Silk Road and a center of civilizations. Its modern market still beats with the rhythm of Central Asia, with people from all ethnicities and religions.
If one looks even farther, at the southeastern borders, the landscape grows wilder and the sense of isolation deepens. The stone Tash Rabat, a solitary 15th-century caravanserai, silently guards a mountain pass that leads toward China. From here, you find snow-covered peaks, and paths lost in time.
Yurts, horses and sky…
July 2024
Kyrgyzstan was never high on my bucket list of travel destinations, nor did I have high expectations. My visit to the country wonโt change either my preference or its ranking.
Many travelers are thrilled by this place, but every traveler has different tastes, experiences, and reasons for traveling.
Kyrgyzstan is generally considered a destination for nature lovers. I try to avoid making comparisons, but the mountains of Kyrgyzstan donโt excite me as much as, for example, the imposing Himalayas or the Karakoram. Its โimpressiveโ lakes, I believe, are nothing unfamiliar to a European. As for the countless horses you encounterโฆ personally, I love them, but Iโm more impressed by giraffes, elephants, and other animals that are unusual in the Western world, wild and endangered creatures.
In Kyrgyzstan, I personally wonโt find points of interest that captivate me like in other Central Asian โ-stanโ countries, such as Uzbekistan with its stunning monuments and rich history, the remote and authentic Afghanistan, and of course the enchanting Pakistan.
My exploration of Kyrgyzstan wonโt include multi-day hikes into remote, vast mountains in search of yet more alpine lakes. This trip will be a solo road trip in which Iโll drive extensively on unfamiliar and, in some cases, difficult roads with chaotic driving behavior from locals, and most importantly, without a companion to share driving duties or simply ride as a co-driver. Despite covering over 2,500 kilometers in a few days, mostly on dirt roads, I wonโt come across landscapes that impress me much, perhaps because Iโve already seen so many others.
One positive aspect of this place, as with nearly every place not modeled after Western society, is the people who, although generally reserved as a population, will often prove to be very hospitable and generous.
Among the places Iโll visit, a pleasant surprise will be the capital, Bishkek. This capital, with its visible Soviet legacy, will exceed my expectations. While it doesnโt have notable landmarks, itโs a very lively city, pleasant to explore, with strong architectural elements from the Soviet era that give it a museum-like value, blending harmoniously with the modern pace of life.
The bus departing from Almaty, Kazakhstan, arrives at the Kyrgyz border after 3.5 hours. The process is relatively short. The bus goes through separately from the passengers, who head with their luggage to the Kazakh customs check. After the exit stamp, I continue through a covered outdoor corridor to step onto Kyrgyz soil and complete the entry process. As with Kazakhstan, no visa is required for European citizens.
My passport has very little space left for stamps, and as usual, I try to point out to the officer where Iโd like the stamp squeezed in. Unfortunately, my request isnโt accepted, and the stamp takes up a valuable, relatively blank section of a page. While the waiting for procedures lasted less than an hour, the bus is stuck in a queue with other vehicles and is greatly delayed.
During this idle time, I take the opportunity to exchange currency and have a drink to ease the July heat. Over two hours have passed, and my patience has run out. Had I known, I could have looked for another means of transport. In fact, I discover that if I call a taxi via an app, the cost to nearby Bishkek doesnโt exceed โฌ6! Just as Iโm about to do so, however, the bus finally appearsโฆ
Bishkek
The city is relatively small, and my accommodation is on its western side, within walking distance or a short taxi ride from the center. The main reason I chose it, though, is because itโs right next to the famous Osh Bazaar. Iโll manage to catch it open for a brief visit on this first day, but Iโll return several more times in the following days.
Bishkek isnโt a dazzling city, it doesnโt impress you with skyscrapers or golden palaces. But it welcomes you with a calm, unhurried pace, amid Soviet-era buildings, quiet parks, and colorful markets.
I start an exploratory walk before nightfall, on the wide, lively sidewalks of the city center. Naturally, Iโll explore the city more in the coming days.
Ala-Too Square is the โcenter of the centerโ, a wide open area with Kyrgyzstanโs red flags waving proudly, and a statue of the national hero Manas standing prominently. Behind him is the National Historical Museum of Kyrgyzstan, a monumental building in the strict architectural lines of Soviet grandiosity.
The square was built in 1984 to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the Kyrgyz Soviet Socialist Republic, at which point a massive statue of Lenin was placed at the center of the square. After the country gained independence from the USSR, Leninโs statue was moved to a smaller square just behind.
As for the hero Manas, who took the honored central place on the square, heโs not a real historical figure! The Epic of Manas is a lengthy epic poem of the Kyrgyz people, dating to the 19th century, that recounts historical events from the 8th century and the interactions of the Kyrgyz people with other Turkic, Mongolic, and Chinese tribes.
Every block has a small park, full of poplars and other trees, where elderly people play chess, children ride bikes, couples stroll creating a neighborhood vibe even in the city center. Oak Park is a small grove that hosts an open-air sculpture gallery.
At night I walk along Chuy Avenue, watching the city light up enchantingly. Not too noisy, not empty, friendly and human.
In the cafรฉs they serve kumis (าัะผัะท), fermented mareโs milk with a very strong flavor, and itโs said that due to fermentation it reaches about 2.5% alcohol. For now, though, Iโd rather have one or two cocktails at a bar.
In general, prices in the country are low.
Osh Bazaar
The first thing I do early the next morning is visit the Osh Bazaar again. Osh Bazaar is chaotic, colorful, authentic, it is the heart of Bishkek. Spices, dried fruits and vegetables, ceramics, clothesโฆ So many faces, sunburned, deeply wrinkled with rosy cheeks, with those distinct Asian eyes that narrow when they smile – eyes of the East, with a sincere gaze. Everyone, if you approach them, returns your smile.
The figures of the locals depict an entire culture. Men wearing traditional kalpak,the tall white felt hats with black embroidery and women with headscarves tied to the side and long skirts in vivid colors interact with everyday grace. Many wear jackets over traditional clothing, blending Soviet practicality with nomadic tradition.
At one stall, powdered tobacco is being sold. Iโve encountered this product in various places before. The vendor makes a gesture,a circular motion of his finger near his temple, indicating the dizziness it causes. I ask to try it, and he offers me some. The tobacco burns violently in the nostrils, and the dizziness is guaranteed.
My next stop will be to pick up my car so I can begin the road trip.
But first, I go to an office that offers official translation services to get a document issued that shows the details of my driverโs license written in the Cyrillic alphabet. The cost is โฌ4, and in this way, I avoided getting an International Driving Permit, which the bankrupt agency in my home country overcharges at โฌ70 for just a one-year duration!
The vehicle is an old but capable Lexus. Itโs far too large for a single driver and passenger, but I specifically chose a 4×4 vehicle, a feature that will turn out to be essential at every stage. Apart from the reasonable rental cost, all rental companies also require a deposit to cover potential damage or traffic violations. The amount is partially refunded after some time, once itโs confirmed that neither has occurred. The price of gasoline in the country is around โฌ0.70 per liter.
Once I get somewhat used to the local driving conditions and habits, I leave the city behind and start exploring the Kyrgyz countryside.
Burana tower
Two hours away from Bishkek, following a rural road through fields, you arrive at a small-scale archaeological site. The Burana Tower is the only remaining structure of an ancient city that once served as a stop along the Silk Road.
The โtowerโ is essentially a minaret from the 11th century. Itโs not impressive in size but rather in presence. You can climb its narrow, dark stairs, and from the top, enjoy the view of the horizon. Surrounding the tower are burial monuments from Turco-Mongol peoples.
I continue heading east and stop somewhere to rest, taking a short nap in the car. I discover that the spot where I pulled over is a small open-air restaurant, and I end up deciding to eat something and have a coffee. I never drink coffee, but at this moment, I need it in a desperate attempt to fight off the drowsiness of solo driving.
The dining area consists of small raised platforms with side curtains and carpeted floors, where you remove your shoes, sit on the floor, and eat at a low table.
I canโt really translate much of the menu, so I order whatever they have and enjoy a laghman, a national dish that turns out to be noodles with vegetables and meat.
ย Issyk Kul
Driving along the southern shore of Lake Issyk Kul, I immediately realized that this part of the journey was quite authentic. Even though itโs a main route in the country, the road is unpaved in many places. The landscape isnโt particularly dramatic, yet it still holds its own unique charm.
The road passes through villages and small towns, meadows with horses; the lake stretches out to my left like a mirror, while the Terskey Alatau mountains rise to the right. Issyk Kul means โwarm lake,โ but I wasnโt tempted to swim.
By evening, I reach Bokonbayevo, a quiet little village where I look for a place to stay. I find a small guesthouse next to a wedding hall and drive through the town, which is deserted at night, looking for somewhere to eat. I eventually find a small cafe-restaurant.
Continuing on the main road, I turn onto a dirt path that leads toward the lake. I see yurts scattered along the shore, children with inflatable floaties in every shape and color, and people cooling off in the water. Beltam Yurt Camp is a summer retreat spot for locals escaping the city. Large families stay in yurts, have picnics by the lake, swim, fish, go horseback riding, and cook over barbecues.
The beach is disappointing compared to the Aegean Sea, but for the Kyrgyz people, itโs the only real access they have to water.
Manzhyly-Ata, the valley of holy springs
A little further down the road, I turn right toward a place locals call โthe valley of the sacred springs,โ Manzhyly-Ata. A path leads through a dry riverbed, where I manage to drive the car up to a point without getting stuck in the sand.
Springs and wells are scattered all around. Itโs said that people come here to pray and seek healing. Some springs are dedicated to specific body parts, kidneys, eyes, heart, while others are connected to spiritual cleansing. This is a belief independent of any formal religion, deeply tied to the earth and nature.
I continue toward Karakol, where the landscape becomes more dramatic.
Skazka Fairytale Canyon
Skazka Canyon is a unique geological site, with red hills and rocks shaped like sculptures, as if nature carved them into forms that ignite the imagination. Itโs definitely worth a hike here, through the narrow canyon and up the heights formed by the rocks, revealing breathtaking views of the area. The place is quite popular; I saw more tourists here than anywhere else in the country. A similar landscape can be found further down the road, at Jeti-รgรผz.
The surrounding area is known for its eagle hunters, the last practitioners training eagles in the traditional way of hunting. From a distance, I witnessed a demonstration. A rider carried an eagle to the top of a hill; the eagle spotted its prey in the valley and swooped down. I couldnโt tell if the prey was alive before the attack or if it was just animal fur used as a lure.
The Barskoon Waterfall is a series of small and large cascades flowing down the slopes of the Terskey Alatau. Here, I took a short but steep hike through a pine forest to reach the waterfall viewpoint, as the weather turned wintry with a fine drizzle. Just before Karakol, the lake appears vast, like a sea. Few villages dot the surroundings, amplifying the sense of tranquility and isolation.
Karakol
Arriving in Karakol the town unfolds before me without much impression. The long journey here does not reward my eyes. I had expected something more traditional in this remote corner of Central Asia. Yet, despite its low houses, Karakol is a relatively modern town. China lies just 150โ200 kilometers away.
Karakol has nothing โtouristyโ in the usual sense. A few old Russian houses with colorful window frames remain, and mountains surround the town. The Dungan Mosque is a wooden structure of unique architecture, painted in shades of blue and green. The Dungan – Chinese Muslims who fled here in the 19th century – brought this tradition. A few streets away stands the wooden Russian Orthodox Church of the Holy Trinity, with its small golden dome.
I think I donโt prefer to stay inside the town but to continue towards the mountains, searching for a more nature-focused stay.
One option is Altyn Arashan, where there are 1โ2 lodgings on the map. But the route is not easy, far away, the road is bad, and night is falling. The destination suits a two-day hike or horseback ride to the mountain hot springs. I donโt have that luxury of time, nor the mood to hike alone during these rainy days. I look for another option and decide to head towards the mountain ski resort above town. As a tourist spot, I hope it has enough accommodations. After a rough dirt ascent, I find the place deserted in summer. Some inns are closed and lonely. I knock on some doors and finally a family welcomes me. There are no restaurants up here, and Iโm glad they cook me something simple.
The next morning I wander aimlessly around the Karakol area, the surrounding mountains, and the town. Some locals in a yurt, with a spirit of hospitality, offer me mareโs milk. Itโs the national drink, but although I often drink milk, this sour kind is difficult for me. Returning by the same road, I repay their hospitality by giving a ride to a young couple with their baby. The stay in the mountains was ultimately enjoyable.
Back in Karakolโs central square, I stop at a modern cafรฉ for a drink. There I meet a young Italian woman traveling through these countries by bus and hitchhiking. She has no travel plan or timeline, something I envy. But I donโt envy the hardships and hardships she endured recently, especially at the Tajikistan border, where she was trapped for two days due to lack of planning and knowledge. I offer to drive her to the mountain outskirts so she can experience local life, but I must continue my journey because time has run late.
Without a specific plan, I set off late in the day to go wherever the road takes me, hoping I wonโt end up in a hotel in some town but instead sleep in a yurt somewhere in nature.
I drive all day, this time taking the northern route around Issyk Kul Lake, which is more populated, with a better road, but I donโt find any place that excites me. I make stops occasionally because Iโm drowsy, and at one point Iโm forced to drink coffee again, I really donโt enjoy the taste.
Cholpon-Ata is a resort town on the northern shore of the lake. It has many large and small sanatoriums, hotels, and guesthouses to host the many visitors who arrive at the lake during the summer. Back in the Soviet era, it was a popular retreat for organized mass vacations from other parts of the USSR. Nowadays, most vacationers come from Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Russia, with a few tourists from elsewhere. The traffic and crowds are unlike any other place in the country, I pass through without a second thought.
I search the map for a traditional place where I can sleep in a traditional yurt. But the campsites I had marked, like near the small Orto-Tokoy Lake, simply donโt exist in reality.
Song Kul
I enjoy a stunning sky painted in sunset colors and decide to take the road toward Song Kul Lake, which is said to be interesting and less touristy. I have no idea what conditions Iโll encounter, the road turns into a rather difficult dirt track. Night has already fallen, the road is deserted, with no trace of human presence. I just hope the vehicle can handle this rough, rocky route, full of potholes, climbing to 3,500 meters, with patches of snow still lingering at the edges even this time of year. A descent follows into a plateau at 3,000 meters, and in the dark I follow one of the roads on the map that leads to the lake.
Itโs already 11 p.m., and any hope of finding a place to sleep in this total darkness is fading. Sleeping in the car doesnโt seem viable, the damp cold is harsh and penetrating, and I donโt have a sleeping bag. Finally, I spot a faint light in the distance and stop. Two men come out of a yurt, but they donโt speak English and motion for me to leave. Just as I start the engine again, they call out: โMister, mister.โ They turn out to be guests themselves, and they offer me a place to stay in the yurt. But it only has two beds, and I refuse to sleep on the floor. Eventually, one of them offers me his bed and agrees to sleep on the floor himself.
The hostess is a plump woman with rosy cheeks. Luckily, she has plenty of food: a kind of fermented wheat soup (not my favorite), dried meat in broth, butter, and sour cherry jam that I spread on the freshly baked flatbread. The toilet is a makeshift shed made of sheet metal a good distance away, but I donโt bother, nature will do. The bed has five thick blankets stacked on top of each other, I sleep fully clothed and still feel cold.
In the morning, I wake up to explore the area around the lake and accept the hospitality of families who treat me to fermented mareโs milk and vodka. Iโm starting to get used to kumis, but of course I prefer the vodka they offer for breakfast. Despite the language barrier, we have a great time and go together to milk the horses.
Around the lake, the most fascinating stop of my journey, live nomads during the summer months. They bring their herds, set up their yurts, raise their children by the lakeside, and when autumn comes, they pack everything up and leave. Their relatives also come to vacation in this healthy climate.
The routes to the south of the lake promise to be interesting, but they require many days of travel on terrible roads, accessible only with 4×4 vehicles or long multi-day hikes, so I decide to stop my route here.
After my explorations in Song Kul, I take the road back toward Bishkek, exploring the intermediate regions along the way.
Returning via the main road that leads into the capital greets me with traffic chaos and aggressive driving from the locals. Inside the city, I choose to park the car in different spots and discover more of its corners on foot, enjoying pleasant strolls through its parks and neighborhoods, indulging in excellent food, and seeking out a few more nature-based adventures. Since I canโt stay put in one place for long, I decide to explore the nearby mountains. Iโve already washed the car to avoid an extra charge when returning it, but that turns out to be a bad idea, Iโll just get it covered in dust again.
Just 40 minutes outside Bishkek, the road begins to climb, and with it, the landscape changes dramatically. Ala Archa is a national park, but the route Iโve chosen is not the main one, itโs a true off-road trail, on an unfamiliar path, with gullies, mountain meadows with horses (as usual), and rivers. In some places I worry whether the road is even drivable by car. I cross paths with a few enduro motorcyclists who reassure me that the road is passable. That turns out not to be true, and since Iโm alone, Iโm often forced to get out of the car and check the ground ahead to determine where exactly the wheels need to go to avoid tipping into the deep ditches carved by winter torrents. In the end, the vehicle proves to be surprisingly capable, even under these conditions.
Relieved, I return to civilization and visit yet another car wash, where the Pakistani workers restore the vehicle to its shiny condition once again.
On the day of the return, the owner thoroughly inspects the underside of the car and, thankfully, finds no damage. Since I donโt have much else left to do in Bishkek, I pay a visit to the Osh Bazaar for the fourth time. The journey ends with my return flight, including a layover in Abu Dhabi, where the heat is stifling this time of year, 43 degrees Celsius with unbearable humidity that feels almost faint-inducing.
Kyrgyzstan bid me farewell with experiences that were pleasant but not overwhelming. It didnโt leave me with the kind of impressions that other places have; it didnโt offer dramatic landscapes, at least not at this height of summer. I wouldnโt say I got to know the country or its people deeply, though I sense there arenโt many hidden secrets. Still, I encountered kind, sweet, and welcoming faces.
Everything I saw, everything I lived during this solitary journey was an inner exploration that I now value as precious. And perhaps thatโs something important a place, a journey, can ultimately leave you with.
ยฉฮฮปฮญฮพฮฑฮฝฮดฯฮฟฯ ฮคฯฮฟฯฯฮทฯ
