Have I gone melancholy? Maybe so. The hot dusty ride out on the early morning bus towards Balykchy en route to the valley of why-do-you-want-to-go-there (said in Valentin's gruffy voice) Naryn. Our sight was set on one place: Song Kul.
Looming at 3,016m, this alpine lake epitomises the very soul of Kyrgyz nomadic lifestyle. We reached Kochkor, the stocking up town along the way in good time and using the information from the helpful Community Based Tourism centre, we efficiently organised our trip up to the jailoo to spend that night itself. Only a day before I relished in the fact of being alive in a beautiful place of the Arashan but nothing would have prepared me for the immense simplicity of the surrounding around this lake. If there is only one thing you can do in visiting Kyrgyzstan, then come to Song Kul. This is one place you absolutely cannot miss.
Our yurta was very comfortable for us three, with a stove fired by dried cow dung to come with. Our family-host came from Kochkor and during the summer, they come one and all with their cows and horses, donkeys and sheep to graze and rest on a diet of fresh air, sun, crystal mountain springs and the odd horse training. This was the closest we got to an authentic nomad family that portrayed true hospitality with the amount of shyness that harnessed your respect. They weren't loud but they were politely inquisitive. They were the first I have seen, to observe the amin gesture upon completing a meal. And speaking of which, the kaimak and bal were to die for. I probably put on all the weight I had lost along the journey within these past two days staying on the jailoo but with fresh cream and jam this good, you just need to walk it off. The sunsets were bizarrely haunting and each evening brought on a different kind of feel to the sky. The dome of course, took on the span of a sky of diamonds as we came out on the second night, with the weather's permit, to look up at the heavens and the moon illuminating what was already a 10 o'clock night. The terrain was rough and we had needed a 4x4 to get in but once we were on the jailoo, we walked and rode horses to explore the hills. With not a single tree in sight, it was easy to spot the marmots, birds of various species and their chicks hidden amongst the tall grasses, foxes and wild yaks. The pasture bloomed in colours of the rainbow and life indeed was difficult to get complicated up here. I felt for one single moment, the kind of freedom experienced only from the fact you recognised that you were, in that second, beyond the reach of anyone you know, except the elements of nature. That itself, was completely liberating.
As we trekked back to base camp, the sky behind us loomed on in a grayish mist with the odd thunder warning. Ahead of us, the sapphire reflection of the mountains looked back at us while a gentle ripple broke through the otherwise spotless lake. A gander of geese flew past and not too far away in another yurt base, we saw some young men building a new wooden WC on top of a hole, with the old one buried over by soil. Here, everything is self-sufficient and it was wonderful to see man and nature could co-exist in a simple, clean, and respectful manner. It was also refreshing to revert to using some Kyrgyz words in communicating. Such kind people our host was that since Kashmir, I began to feel for the first time this longing of the place that I was about to leave.
If you want a start over, or be away from it all, then here is what you've been waiting for.
