IIn Kyrgyzstan, the way of life has always been defined by Malays. They are so important that the annual rhythm is determined not by the schedule of sowing and harvesting, but by the grazing routes traversed by Kyrgyz nomads in search of fresh grass.
Wandering villages will mark the passage of time as the snow falls and people follow the ancient way to pastures before retreating to the mountains that enclose this land in the heart of Central Asia.
Even now, when its capital, Bishkek, is as much a jumble of multistory malls, neon signs and concrete office towers as any city in Kyrgyzstan’s neighbours, the lingering emotional bond between Kyrgyz people and horses Still going strong.
A popular drink remains fermented mare’s milk, known as kumiss. Great horsemanship remains a particularly prized personal quality. Even everyday conversation is filled with the historical relationship between man and horse.
So it’s no surprise that today the best way to see the country is still on horseback.
Knights line up for the Songkol lake in Kyrgyzstan
(Getty Images)
The country’s vast expanses of land and grasslands have few roads, meaning the adventurous can embark on multi-day excursions that take you across towering mountains, crystal clear alpine lakes and rolling hills.
My journey traverses part of the Kyrgyz Mountains, one of 158 mountain ranges that bisect the country of 6 million Turkic-speaking peoples. Bordered by the Pamir Mountains in the south and the Tenjin Mountains in the west, the Kyrgyz Mountains are one of the largest mountain ranges in the country, with snow-capped peaks even in the hot summer months.
As we set out, our horses ambled in the early morning sunlight that cast the foliage of the forest around us a kaleidoscopic green with no sound save for the occasional bird song. The air was dry and clean; the trees spread like a blanket over the foothills of the mountains in front of us.
It’s one of those places, and one of those moments, when the modern world is often filled with self-righteous din and the ensuing parroting din that recedes not just physically but mentally.
Just you, your horse and nature. Slowly, but inevitably, you also fall into its ancient rhythm with each passing step; since the peoples first arrived here on horseback, as their tribes gradually migrated from Siberia and Altay migrated westward, and this rhythm marked the place.
Kyrgyzstan didn’t appear on the map until the early 1990s after the collapse of the Soviet Union, but its culture existed for centuries before then. It is now one of the easiest countries in Central Asia to experience, as the country consciously seeks to avoid the many labyrinthine and bureaucratic access requirements that can hinder its neighbours.
The country is ready to welcome tourists. UK passport holders only need to obtain a visa on arrival, no prior organization is required. When Covid hit, it was one of the first countries in the world to drop quarantine requirements for tourists and instead set up a network of mobile PCR testers to process every visitor. As such, it is the perfect entry point to experience Central Asia.
My visit began in Osh, a city beneath the Pamir Mountains that in Soviet times marked the end of the highway, a major trade route between Russia and Central Asia that had been running since the Silk Road era. is a trade point.
This merchant spirit can be seen at the city’s Jayma bazaar, one of the largest in the region, attracting sellers from as far away as China, Tajikistan and Kazakhstan from the upside down where many of the stalls are located. Items sold in containers.
For 2,000 years, people have traveled from far and wide to trade and barter here. Today, its aisles are still filled with stalls laden with spices, and the aisles are lined with blacksmiths who beat iron into shovels or other implements, as it has done for centuries.
You could get lost in its maze-like layout for hours. For a moment, you’re surrounded by rows of knockoff Premier League football strips or flashing lights of imported Chinese toys spilling over the table.
Next, you’ll travel back in time to a world where berries and herbs filled giant bowls from which buyers scooped up their purchases with battered wooden shovels. Animal carcasses the size of car doors hung from metal hooks, blood dripping onto the paving stones below.
My time in Kyrgyzstan ends in the capital, Bishkek, hundreds of miles to the north, where the stark Soviet architecture of the communist past mingles with the flashing lights of a new metropolis now sprouting next to it.
Government offices in the center of Bishkek
(Getty Images/iStockphoto)
Here you can dine at five-star Chinese restaurants that are as stylish and expensive as any you’ll find in Shanghai, or watch young people dance to the band at an American themed bar serving well-crafted cocktails, wine by the glass There were also fireworks.
But the one thing that makes Kyrgyzstan so special, so welcoming, is what I saw in both cities, as enjoyable as they are.
Instead, it is located outside urban areas. It’s off the beaten track and picturesque there, with steep, desolate mountains stretching down to seemingly endless grass-covered grasslands.
At Issyk-Kul, one of the world’s largest lakes surrounded by the Tianshan Mountains, I sweated in my isolated wooden cabin on the edge of the shoreline as our waiter poured water over hot coals to fill the sauna before diving into the lake’s icy cold Embrace.
Lake Torpur, Kyrgyzstan
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On Mount Suleimen Too in Osh, I scaled its craggy walls and climbed into caves deep into its interior. They have been sacred since people have known them, and I have seen places where sacrifices were performed in the past, and sacred stones that women still visit today, believing it to increase their fertility.
In Baktu-Dolonotu, I saw local riders from surrounding areas gather for a game of kok-boru, or more colloquially known as “headless goat polo”, in which two teams compete on horseback for a goat The carcass of the goat enters the opponent’s goal.
It’s a game involving a dead body, its head and legs removed and incisions seeded to keep its internal organs from falling out, and is contested by two teams. The rules strictly forbid the use of knives or firearms, but few other rules seem to apply.
It’s still pretty violent, the action seems to involve players piloting the sides of their mounts against their opponents in chaotic scrums, and it’s honestly utterly mysterious, the corpse suddenly goes free and a lone rider emerges from the frenzy, galloping and throwing it Into the well targeted by the opponent.
The sport is so popular not only in Kyrgyzstan but in many countries in Central Asia that it has its own World Cup – the biannual World Nomad Games – with teams from all over Central Asia in Kok-boru Compete fiercely in other traditional sports such as falconry, wrestling and archery.
The last three games have been played in Kyrgyzstan, but the next one is in Iznik, Turkey, which will start at the end of September this year. Representatives from as many as 100 countries are expected to attend, and more than 3,000 entrants across all disciplines are planned.
Kyrgyzstan mountain landscape, white yurt decorated with red ornaments
(Getty Images/iStockphoto)
More serenely, near Suusamir, I saw the landscape broken up only by the white dots of a small cluster of yurts, each inhabited by a family, as villages follow grazing trails like their ancestors move.
Inside one, the floor is covered in layers of carpet as the fire at its center sends puffs of smoke from a chimney hole cut in the center of the canvas roof.
I had gok cuchvara, a dumpling stuffed with locally grown greens that tasted like spinach, and giants samsas, stuffed with lamb and onions and topped with sesame seeds, to warn the unwary it was seasoned with chilli of.
I eat horses because the Kyrgyz consider animals not only as mounts but as a meal, no one is killed and cooked, no special event is marked. The meat is served with bowls of marinated salad, kidney beans and cabbage, and rinsed down with kumiss, which is slightly sour but refreshing and still warm from milking.
At night, there is no light pollution around us, and the stars on the grassland are always full of stars.
Go and visit Kyrgyzstan now. It’s just an easy flight from Istanbul, and the government’s commitment to developing tourists means it won’t sit empty for long.
But, for now, it remains what it is: a place where you can feel the rhythm of life past and present. Remind yourself of what that was like while you still could.
