I am beginning to enjoy the heat here. It gives a perfect opportunity to indulge in cold showers that have been missing in the picture during our journey throughout China as it was just not that hot enough to render such action. Today was no different. By brunch time we were seeking refuge from a poorly ran (read: rude staff) establishment that served mediocre food at expensive prices. The coveted prize? It was pretty decently air-conditioned. I had a greasy omelette that didn't do the rest of the ham and cheese cousins of its kind around the world justice, but nothing that a cold glass of Coke can't wash down.
At the table we exchanged more stories with other fellow hostel mates and the picture regarding Osh became to come together in proper pieces. An official "rough" estimate had the Southern parts including Osh and Jalal-Abad racking up to a thousand dead and more in injuries. Corners around Bishkek are seeing more cops patrolling around while people in summer dresses and baby carriages, hats and sunnies all walk about buying ice cream and having their photographs taken at Ala-Too Square behind the backdrop of the Kyrgyzstan flag in half mast. A lot of food ration are being put together while the news kept busy broadcasting deliberate effort in squaring down the ethnic tension. Suddenly you really want to kick Stalin in the balls for causing, per any single dictator that ever lived, such division amongst his people that they are still dealing with a dreaded legacy despite the man himself rotting away six feet under.
Our hostel too had been a refuge of sort these past few days. One cyclist who had been coming from Turkey rocked up to Osh just the day before the clash broke out. He was camping on the lawn of the only Uzbek house in an entire village of Kyrgyzs. That night, the house owner came to tell him that if "they come in to shoot, they will kill you too. You have to defend yourself" and gave him a cross-bow looking thing. Man of the house stood facing the front door with his shot gun after the family had moved all the furniture from the porch to form a barrier between the exterior windows and the inside of the house. The women and children hid underneath the cellar at the backyard. Gun shots were heard outside on the village street that night. This was in Jalal-Abad. He left soon after the next day to Bishkek, leaving his bike behind. Upon arriving here for a few days he tried calling the family but got no answer. Our mates here found him all quiet and still quite in a shock. No surprise that he bought a one-way ticket straight back to Istanbul. Our other American mates were in Osh the night the fights broke out and it wasn't pretty. Call me idealistic but I know we have been given the providence of the Big Chief and blessed with a good fate of being adopted by the hands of Mr. Usman but although we saw no bloodshed, we did see the sociological effect of the tension in varying degrees amongst our group of Kyrgyz, Uzbek, Japanese and Malaysia travellers staying over there that few days. I like to say that despite all that, I have witnessed the string is indeed more tightly knitted than ever and the clash was one of the many knots that had to be undone. No matter what happen in the future, I like to believe, and that I will, in the fact that the ties between these people in this region is too strong to be severed by a disputed ex-president, Mafia druglords, goons and the sort.
At the table we exchanged more stories with other fellow hostel mates and the picture regarding Osh became to come together in proper pieces. An official "rough" estimate had the Southern parts including Osh and Jalal-Abad racking up to a thousand dead and more in injuries. Corners around Bishkek are seeing more cops patrolling around while people in summer dresses and baby carriages, hats and sunnies all walk about buying ice cream and having their photographs taken at Ala-Too Square behind the backdrop of the Kyrgyzstan flag in half mast. A lot of food ration are being put together while the news kept busy broadcasting deliberate effort in squaring down the ethnic tension. Suddenly you really want to kick Stalin in the balls for causing, per any single dictator that ever lived, such division amongst his people that they are still dealing with a dreaded legacy despite the man himself rotting away six feet under.
Our hostel too had been a refuge of sort these past few days. One cyclist who had been coming from Turkey rocked up to Osh just the day before the clash broke out. He was camping on the lawn of the only Uzbek house in an entire village of Kyrgyzs. That night, the house owner came to tell him that if "they come in to shoot, they will kill you too. You have to defend yourself" and gave him a cross-bow looking thing. Man of the house stood facing the front door with his shot gun after the family had moved all the furniture from the porch to form a barrier between the exterior windows and the inside of the house. The women and children hid underneath the cellar at the backyard. Gun shots were heard outside on the village street that night. This was in Jalal-Abad. He left soon after the next day to Bishkek, leaving his bike behind. Upon arriving here for a few days he tried calling the family but got no answer. Our mates here found him all quiet and still quite in a shock. No surprise that he bought a one-way ticket straight back to Istanbul. Our other American mates were in Osh the night the fights broke out and it wasn't pretty. Call me idealistic but I know we have been given the providence of the Big Chief and blessed with a good fate of being adopted by the hands of Mr. Usman but although we saw no bloodshed, we did see the sociological effect of the tension in varying degrees amongst our group of Kyrgyz, Uzbek, Japanese and Malaysia travellers staying over there that few days. I like to say that despite all that, I have witnessed the string is indeed more tightly knitted than ever and the clash was one of the many knots that had to be undone. No matter what happen in the future, I like to believe, and that I will, in the fact that the ties between these people in this region is too strong to be severed by a disputed ex-president, Mafia druglords, goons and the sort.
Anyway, enough about the doom and gloom. Bishkek today ran as any big city would, although it was quite a refreshing experience going mini grocery shopping with hubby for our supplies on the road. Try finding a shampoo written in Russian. Very fun and a good test for "match the box" game. Anyway we went map hunting as well and the biggest shop in the entire city that sold any good maps in English, should you be up to looking for it, would require of you to have a map to find this shop that sells maps. Still with me? It was in the most unimaginable building with a rotting toilet, one man sitting inside keeping alive by staying with the dull rotating fan that hummed out a lonesome lullaby. It's got all of the works. The dull green paint on the wall peeping out of any hole that wasn't covered by the sprawls of maps. He asked in a half-asleep tone "you vant ze political one or ze trrrekking one?" I was in map heaven.
Conversation top content is dominated by visa applications around the 'Stans. The Malaysian passport so far has been pretty lucky comparatively to some Western countries, although we are still subjected to the whims and daily moods of the embassy. Up to a point it was actually recommended to not talk about which port or which alternate route we could take in order to make it to the entry deadline of a transit visa or apply for one without losing your marbles. It was like staring into the mouth of a hungry lion at times - deadlock doom. Otherwise we are thankful that it's World Cup season again. Besides watching football and marvelling at the half-time MTV breaks that resembled closely to badly done B-grade pornographic music clips, the food and drinks in most bars are extremely overpriced. But they were cool enough to have us bring our kebab in, although at times you get a few drunkards that just misbehaved and started shouting at you in slurred Russian. Stay in numbers. It's not only wise but you have smarter fun too. And ignore those idiots. They are after all, drunk and bad smelling rats that just didn't know they're really shaming themselves. Goes to say, idle minds and hands aren't good at all...
Conversation top content is dominated by visa applications around the 'Stans. The Malaysian passport so far has been pretty lucky comparatively to some Western countries, although we are still subjected to the whims and daily moods of the embassy. Up to a point it was actually recommended to not talk about which port or which alternate route we could take in order to make it to the entry deadline of a transit visa or apply for one without losing your marbles. It was like staring into the mouth of a hungry lion at times - deadlock doom. Otherwise we are thankful that it's World Cup season again. Besides watching football and marvelling at the half-time MTV breaks that resembled closely to badly done B-grade pornographic music clips, the food and drinks in most bars are extremely overpriced. But they were cool enough to have us bring our kebab in, although at times you get a few drunkards that just misbehaved and started shouting at you in slurred Russian. Stay in numbers. It's not only wise but you have smarter fun too. And ignore those idiots. They are after all, drunk and bad smelling rats that just didn't know they're really shaming themselves. Goes to say, idle minds and hands aren't good at all...
Finding wireless connection was another drama and in short, we had located the bogus internet cafe and successfully traced the location of a new target. That would be tomorrow's work. The rest of the day was spent snaking our way at a reptilian pace to the nearest soccer bar. One good thing about this city that I'll say again - It is as crazy as any football nation, hence there is plenty of live telecast that at least delivered the salvation of sanity through swearing at our favourite midfielder and goalie.
Just like old times.
Just like old times.
