Trevor's Travels: May 2008

4-4-2008

I left the Jalalabad bus station at around noon and headed back to Osh…..hopefully this time around the food will not be so rough on my
stomach…..I feel quite certain that I would not survive another round of Osh style food poisoning.

I arrived in Osh around 2pm and quickly found a cheap hotel near Salomon’s thrown (large rock mountain in the middle of town). The place was only $4 bucks a night, the downside being that my bed’s pillow was merely a cloth sack filled with saw dust, and the bed itself was a foot shorter than my body.

My roommate turned out to be a really cool guy; an fascinating, bold, and friendly Dutch traveller named George. George and I spent most of the day together trading travel stories and inspiring one another for future adventures. After a long conversation with George, I had become convinced that Pakistan is relatively safe; since Tibet is now officially closed due to violent protests, I will now make my way to India via Pakistan. I am in fact particularly excited for this new leg of my journey. The pass I will be travelling on peaks out at around 15,500ft. And then there is the brilliant Karakorom highway…………which I will more adequately be able to describe in the near future.

4-5-2008

I woke up at 7am and headed to the jeep/taxi parking lot that caters to the locals wanting to head south of Osh. I would soon find out that south of Osh is pretty much no-man’s-land. Civilization ends……….and the endless snowy peaks begin.

After a couple hours of painful dialogue with overzealous cab drivers, I found a family heading to a city past Sary Tash (my destination). I hopped into the back seat with Mom, the boy and the baby, while Dad drove and Gramps sat shotgun. They were a jolly and lively crew, and I enjoyed my time with them immensely. I was pretty much forced to teach the eleven year old boy English the entire car ride (6.5hrs)….though I was tired and would much rather sleep, I found it rewarding because he and the family loved it, and soaked up each word like a sponge.

The roadway to Sary Tash was ridiculously desolate…..I had no idea that Kyrgyzstan pretty much ends after Osh. About 15 miles below Osh; the paved road turned to dirt, and the road’s quality diminished with a vengeance. My driver drove like a maniac the entire way, weaving through the windy roads like a getaway driver, while vigorously trying to avoid potholes and large rocks. I was genuinely surprised that our vehicle did not suffer a flat tire during our journey.

After several snowy almost uncrossable mountain passes, and driving through several isolated mountain villages, we had arrived in Sary Tash. While passing through the final village before Sary Tash, I viewed a large cluster of Yaks nestled up against the roadway trying to find grass through the snow. I mention this only because this is the first time I had ever seen a herd of Yaks, and I must say, they are cool looking. They are pretty much just hippie cows……..with thin vertical horns who are so badass that bitter cold, and chilling snow does not bother them.

Sary Tash(10,400ft): Wow…….my first thought was “where the hell am I?”. I soon realized that Sary Tash was merely a remote village, not the quaint border town I had imagined it to be.

I felt like John Voit in ‘The Deliverance’…..I was in a land of Kyrgyz hillbillies. Sary Tash is a severely isolated mountain village consisting of only a few small clusters of mud brick shacks and a general store located in an old box car.

The snow was falling and the winter breeze had become stubbornly cold. Villagers were riding around on their horses and herding their cows, yaks, and Goats while trying valiantly to fight off the bitter cold. ( I have no Idea where the animals grazed, the entire area was submerged in snow). After arriving, I hoped to get out of the snow relatively quickly in order to secure a safe place to lay my head for the night.

Almost immediately after being dropped off on the side of the road by my driver, a dark faced teenager(18) up the road spotted me and signalled me to follow him to his home. As we silently walked along the icy road; a crew of teenagers on horses and antique bicycles drove by and snatched my new companions black knit cap. The gang of hoodlums jeered, and smiled their jackolantern smiles at us as they threw the teen’s hat in a muddy ditch on the side of the road.

The gang of kids were obviously poor, but perhaps my new friend was even lower down the rung than they were. It appeared to be that not one member of the crew was missing fewer than 4 teeth…..which I found impressive seeing how they were all in their teens. Upon further observance, I sincerely doubt that anyone in the entire village has a full set of teeth. If my host’s family was any indication, it would be safe to say that a dentist had never made it the mountain village of Sary Tash.

With a warm smile, my new friend presented me to his parents, and fortunately they welcomed me kindly into their home. The mud-brick shack was split into two rooms, an 8x10 kitchen and a 15x15ft family room. The family consisted of a mother, father, grandma, sister(15), brother(18), baby, and infant (2)…..so it was a packed house. The shack was lacking any sort of plumbing, but was equipped with electricity…..which was a godsend. It allowed me to escape from the strangeness by submerging myself in my book.

The family was great, they were harshly poor and weathered looking, but continuously radiated their home with smiles and kindness. After a walk around the town, and a few failed attempts at communicating with locals, I came to the conclusion that these people were entirely different than any of the Kyrgyz people I had met thus far. They did not even look the same; the Sary Tash villagers had red-brown sun burnt looking faces, and were quite small and petite in stature. I read somewhere that Sary Tash was in fact a Tajik village, and that the community merely leased the land from Kyrgyzstan. I was not able to confirm this, due to the fact that I was unable to track down a single person in Sary Tash that spoke Russian or English.

I crashed on the living room floor side by side with my new siblings. The fire burned out not long after bedtime; I slept rather poorly as a result of the blatant concoction of harsh coldness and grandma’s snoring.

At 5:30am I climbed into my warmest clothes (which means I wore everything in my bag), packed up my bags and hit the road. I walked about a half mile along the dark icy road until I had made it to the fork in the road. Left was for China, Right was for Tajikistan........... I turned left and walked down the road another half mile toward China.

It was dark and freezing cold,…..much colder than I had anticipated. In order to fight against the painful cold; I picked a 100M stretch of road and paced up and down the stretch for about 2 hours hoping to keep myself warm until the sun came out. By 8am the sun began to shine, but a truck headed to China was nowhere to be found. I had a glimmer of hope at 8:15am when an old soviet ambulance drove down the road through Sary Tash…..only to keep heading right to Tajikistan.

As the locals began to rise, they all immediately climbed to the roofs of their homes and began to shovel off the 8inches of fresh snow which had accumulated throughout the night. At approximately 8:45am I would say that at least 80% of the locals(men) were up on their roofs shovelling snow.

I caught my lucky break at 9:00am……..two Russian trucks began heading toward me and I was able to flag down the first one for a ride.

I hopped into the old Kamaz( Russian semi truck)smiling and was greeted by two men with a loud “asalam ahalikum”;moments later we were ploughing through the snow toward China. My new companions were Kyrgyz drivers who were involved in a bit of import export. Their route only brought them to border and back. One guy was 25, and the other in his 40s, they were both genuine, and friendly fellows..

The road through the pass was not much more than a snow covered logging road. It was usually covered with deep snow, and was relatively steep and uneven in places. Due to a series of recent snowfalls, and the overall desolate and harsh nature of this pass; we were inevitably delayed.

Our truck became stuck in the deep snow on several occasions, each time we banded together with other trucks (also delayed due to our predicament) in order to dig, yank, and pull ourselves free.

Overall the day was wonderful, the sun was shining, I was experiencing some new and exciting truck driver comradery, and most importantly; I was on my way to China.

In the end, I would say that our delays added about 5 hours to our travel time across the pass. However once we made it over the high point and began our descent, it was smooth sailing. The weather gradually became warmer, and the roads clearer.

About 15miles before the Kyrgyz-Chinese border we came across a sort of military road block. Two young soldiers stood in a mud booth, sporting Russian kolichnikofs (assault rifles) and full soviet uniform. It was very, very, strange. It was as if no one had told these guys that the Soviet Union fell, and that they were free to go home. These guards were wearing large soviet belt buckles, and soviet pins in their hats. Not one piece of clothing on their bodies signified anything Kyrgyz................where was I?

After passing the security check point, it was a new, smooth, paved road from there to the border.

I hit a bit of a snag at the border; the problem being that the border closes each day at 2pm..........and by the time I had arrived at the border it was 5pm.

After thanking my truck driver buddies for the lift, I began to wander around the area. I was surrounded by beautiful desert landscape interrupted by bare jagged hills and a wide, shallow river .Pretty much the only thing around me was malnourished minuture donkeys, drunk border cops, and a small trailer park which hugged the riverside about 50M from the border.

I was really excited to be on the border, and at such a strange and remote location.........I would venture to say that very few tourists have used this border crossing (relatively).

Ahhhhh the trailer park, what can I say.....this place was pretty wild. It was a deserted cluster of old school box cars/trailers/caravans.....it was a cliché image of something you would expect to see in the middle of nowhere.

After wandering around curiously, and observing the dirty, haggard, tired, weathered, smiling, locals go about their day to day business; I began to see how difficult their lives must be. I observed a crew of children using a large chunk of scrap metal and a stack of old tires as a slide. Their clothes were ripped and filthy, while not one child was wearing shoes. How could these people live in such conditions?.....The bottom line is that this community was completely lacking most essential societal resources. Schools, industry, recreational outlets, plumbing, and media were completely non-existent in this area. However, I imagine this has simply become a way of life for these people, and that “luxuries” are simply out of site and out of mind.

While snapping a few photos of my curious surroundings, and wandering around inquisitively; the locals began to take notice. What was the goofy looking blonde guy doing in our neighbourhood? Why is he here? Why does he have long hair?( I can only imagine this is what cruised through their minds).

One group of local women took particular interest in me, the waved me over and through a bit of broken Russian, I was able to explain to them my situation. They were thrilled; they immediately invited me into their home and excitedly presented me with tea and cookies. After about an hour of awkward conversation, they invited me to spend the night in their home as their guest.

Sure why not..............where else was I going to stay!

I can’t say I much enjoyed our conversations however; they mostly revolved around me being American, and them wanting me to marry one of their locals.

I escaped the suffocating conversations by going for a long solo walk around the countryside. After exploring the hills ( most of which were besieged with human shit) I headed down to the river.

{their are no toilets in the trailer complex, so it appears that all the locals just walk to the nearby hillside and squat wherever........taking a walk along the hills was like trekking through a mine zone}

As I peered across the riverbank, I saw a beautiful red wind carved canyon with what appeared to be several caves near the entrance. My problem was that a river obstructed me from reaching this canyon..............As I walked up river looking for a way to cross; I began to see that the river split into two shallower, narrower streams. But as I followed one of the streams up river it split again, and then again.........yet still it was too deep to cross. Walking alone after a long day of strangeness, I began to see this river as a metaphor for my life.

-Instead of wading through the single challenging river (returning home after PC service).....I chose a different path.....I walked up stream to find something that was easier, or fit me better personally. But after each stream I followed it simply forked again.....and before I knew it I was forced to cross 10 deep streams instead of one consistent river.

I saw myself purposely choosing seemingly easier paths but then realizing they forked. After heading upstream to find clarity and an easy way to cross; I was forced with more tough decisions and even more rapids and slippery rocks. Where was I going with that one..............it seems I got a bit too deep in metaphors for my own good.

The bottom line is that I feel at times that my dinking around (Peace Corps ,Travel etc) has guided me to a river that will be quite challenging to cross without severe discomfort and unforeseen obstacles. All my friends( or I hope they are my friends, most I have not seen for quite a long time ) have moved on with their lives.....and are perhaps a bit too mature and established for a homeless, jobless, hobo they once knew quite well.

OK moving on................................

After returning home from my long walk, and tranquil self reflection, I returned to find the trailer packed with locals. I stepped into the old rusty box car and immediately became the “novelty guest”. It was the last thing I really wanted to be, but what could I do. I drank tea, answered questions, and refused marriage proposals for hours upon hours.

{the trailer: 8-9ft wide, 25ft long, split into two rooms, one room incuded a small wood burning stove, front steps are a stack of truck tires}

In order to temporarily escape the strangeness, I grabbed my book and tried unsuccessfully to read between rounds of awkward and invasive questioning. The toothless, over –excited women had a little gossip gathering in the other room, and begged me to join.....by then I knew better. The entire evening, random women would show up and I would be called upon to analyze our new guest, and asked if I “loved her” or “would marry her”. The women I felt were acting quite obnoxious, and it became increasingly uncomfortable for me to be around them . I was truly in another world, and I must say the novelty of the situation wore off early on.

Dinner was great, it consisted of a delicious spread of beef, potatoes, bread, and several different types of jam. The flavour was relatively bland, but it really could have been a lot worse. I worried (to a point of paranoia) that I would get food poisoning. These people were definitely NOT the hygienic type............and after watching the daughter wash dishes with brown dirty water,......and seeing grandma prepare the food without washing her hands.................I began to feel a bit uneasy. I abruptly began to fanaticise about how disastrous it would be to be stuck in the trailer with a horrible case of food poisoning. Vomiting and shitting myself as I lay in a crowded dirty trailer with obnoxious unhygienic locals.............. What a frightening thought.

Besides the 10 odd marriage proposals; dinner was actually quite pleasant. After our meal we just kind of sat around on the floor and drank endless cups of tea. The edge was gone, and the atmosphere became serene. That was of course until the cattle came home. Then a fresh round of strangeness began.

Grandpa and a few uncles stormed into the trailer at around 10:30pm.............and they were obviously hammered. I sat in the corner reading while trying to ignore the commotion. An argument suddenly erupted between grandma and grandpa,............ gramps was pissed. He kept yelling with rage, standing up, and rushing the old lady. Thankfully each time someone would intervene and calm things down. At one point the worn out looking, hunch backed old man got so pissed that he stormed into the other room yielding his rubber boot and tried to throw it at grandma full force. Fortunately his level of inebriation greatly distorted his accuracy; his heavy, knee high rubber boot slammed hard and loud against the wall about a foot from the old woman’s head.

What was the right thing to do at that point? Things were obviously getting out of hand, but I was merely an American novelty/guest. I really had no pull, and perhaps meddling in family affairs could lead to unnecessary personal danger.

Eventually everyone calmed down, beds were prepared, and we all hit the sack.

I was in the left half of the box car; it was a 9X12 room with a few blankets and pillows to share. I was forced to share this small area with 4 other men, 3 of the 4 had come home recently from a long day of alcohol abuse.

{I was offered vodka constantly, but declined each time. At no point did I feel comfortable enough to even have a sip of alcohol with the locals}

Sleep sucked: the guy next to me kept putting his hand on my face, and his arm across my chest. Two guys over from me was the “cougher”.......the guy must have had TB........he coughed loud and hard all night. The guy on the far end would talk/hum/sing in his sleep.............it was quite irritating.

I woke up startled at 3am to the commotion of the two guys to my right wrestling and yelling at each other. Within seconds they were on their feet raging with anger, arms cocked and ready to brawl...........but again the skirmish was alleviated by a mediator before blows were thrown. The conflict had arisen because the two guys were sharing a blanket, and apparently one of the guys was hogging.

I woke up in the morning after sparsely sleeping, to the guy next to me snuggling up against me like a giant teddy bear...................it was 8am........and I was increasingly thankful that I would escape this strange trailer very soon.

After a breakfast of strange brown soup ( sour milk/wheat based liquid).....I bid my farewells to my hosts, and exited that trailer like a bat out of hell.

Most of the strange and awkward situations I have encountered on the road thus far have been quite laughable and secure. However, I feel this particular occasion, my awkwardness crossed a line. It was no longer fun, exciting, strange, and enlightening;....................it became weird, ugly, bizarre, uncomfortable, and downright frightening.

However, it is all over now, and I am now able to look back on the strangeness and add it to my life-experience archives, while having an increased awareness and gratefulness for the pleasant American lifestyle I have been lucky enough to live.............I have absolutely no room to complain about lack of luxuries, while other people in the world suffer from extreme poverty while smiling ear to ear. I feel slightly guilty for living such a privileged life without the day to day hardships that these people face. I wish them luck in their lives, but fear that their uneducated and underprivileged children will have enormous challenges overcoming their ugly predisposition to failure and a life of hardship

After a series of shot hitches over the border I had made it to China. I walked down the road about a mile in the pounding wind excited for the adventures that lied ahead me. China is a place that I have always dreamed of visiting. The remarkable history and cultural diversity of this enchanted land, was now at my fingertips

After about 3 hours of pleasant daydreaming and travel planning, a semi-truck pulled over gave me a ride to Kashgar...........................................

On the way to Sary Tash: