Lost in my thoughts in Kyrgyzstan

We are at the beginning of October when I leave Osh for the north of the country. The weather is good, a soft sun is shining, and the Kyrgyz people are smiling at me.

The older ones are particularly happy to see and talk to me. I stop on purpose to chat with Ali, 83 years old. Her face is lit with a huge smile throughout our conversation.

A little further on, it's Salem's turn, who puts his hand on his heart so much as a token of thanks that one might think he will have a heart attack. But his broken smile only gives hints of perfect happiness.

Ali, 83, wearing the traditional Kyrgyz hat.

Salem.

Everywhere on the roads of Kyrgyzstan, I will meet people on horseback. From the very young to the oldest, it is a popular and widespread means of transport. Seeing a child on his huge horse in a village, I imagine the conversation ...

- Mom! I'm going to Steve with the horse!
- Ok, you will bring some bread by the way.

Apples and memories

In this mid-autumn weather, the sun is hot and the bottom of the air is cold. I have the impression that it is a weekend to go to apples. I can almost smell them, and I imagine Oka cheese and baked bread at the same time. Thoughts dangerous for a stomach hungry for western food.

I often get lost in my thoughts when riding. And this temperature bitterly reminds me of my mother, who left too quickly a few years ago. She was always so eager for summer to arrive that she would go outside in the first sun in March, pretending it wasn't too early to wear shorts. Stuck against our country house to protect herself from the wind, she read outside, sometimes helping the rays of the sun a little with a blanket.

This journey is one of several kilometers around the globe, but also within myself.

I am not afraid

The biggest reason to call this trip The Good People is in order to more easily answer a question that I have had so often in recent years: "Aren't you afraid ?!" ".

My friend Mathieu, who joined me in Georgia and Azerbaijan last summer, told me about this conversation with friends on his return. We asked him questions about where we spent our nights.

- Where were you camping?
- On the side of the road
- Weren't you afraid?
- Enough to?
- Well, let's attack you ...

And Mathieu to answer them with the opposite question.

- Would you camp in Canada?
- Yes.
- Would you attack a camper in Canada?
- Well no.
- Why would it be different elsewhere then?
- Ben tse ... those countries ...

Exactly. I have never felt more secure than in “those countries”. Expression that generally includes all the countries about which we do not know much. These countries whose inhabitants often see very few tourists, and who welcome each of them as if they were family. 

In fact, it's made more than easy to camp anywhere in Kyrgyzstan. If there is a farmer or a resident, I ask him if I can pitch my tent. And I am practically thanked for having chosen their land. Otherwise, I'm just settling in, and more often than not, someone will eventually arrive to offer me tea, fruit, or even come to their place.

And people don't mind seeing a cyclist camping out in a field. I see shepherds passing by with their flocks every morning. We say hello, we exchange a smile, and life goes on without stress.

I write these notes from my tent when I hear the whistle. I turn around and there is a uniformed police officer ten yards behind me. But as if to prove my point, the conversation is short and to the point.

- Tourist ?
- Yes.
- Everything is fine ?
- Yes, I'm heading for Bishkek.
- OK perfect ! Good night !

Uniforms

I come back to "those countries". Kyrgyzstan is not a rich country. Even less are the previous ones Apartment that I went through. And yet, in all these countries, many schoolchildren wear particularly pretty uniforms, even in very rural areas.

They often look like little adults, but in environments where the adults themselves are not so well dressed. In Kyrgyzstan, one cannot miss the immense and charming balls of lace with the hair of the girls, but especially the kalpaks, the official Kyrgyz hat for boys. White in adults, it is red in younger ones.

It is said that there are over 80 types of kalpaks, varying as much by territory as to celebrate various events or identify a certain hierarchy among those who wear them. Usually made of felt, it takes about two hours for a specialist to put one together.

And in this Central Asian country, the kalpak is probably at least as popular as our North American cap. I'm thinking of bringing one back and trying to start this fashion in Quebec!

A Kyrgyz schoolboy, with his official hat, the kalpak.

Kyrgyz schoolgirls.

Everything about my photos, my reflections and the beautiful weather, I then only have fun driving in Kyrgyzstan.

Until I started to climb the real walls that are the mountain ranges in the center of the country. To be continued in the next chapter!