Up at 8, out for 9 and off to the ethnovillage in the Kyrchyn gorge. This is a long trip as it situated some 30Km up in the mountains. The road is winding and dusty but just about has room for two way traffic but there are also animals on the road either roaming free or being driven by a farmer. We had Amir with us today and he had a bit of a strop which caused us some angst but we eventually arrived at the beautiful sight of hundreds of yurts well spread over a large area in a bowl shaped hollow at the foot of magnificent mountains.
After parking it was a long rough walk across natural countryside to the village. Aina took the easy way with Amir, on horseback as there were numerous men offering lifts to whichever part of the village you wanted to go to. We found out later they were charging 200 SOM although Aina knocked it down to 100SOM! This is roughly £1
Incidentally the bus fare from the Hippodrome to the Ethnovillage is 50-70SOM! 60-80p
Meanwhile we headed for the mid point of the mass of yurts and were then at a loss as to what to do or where to find the events we wanted to see. It was explained to us that the yurts were arranged in villages one from each of the 9 provinces of Kyrgyzstan and that each one would put on a performance periodically throughout the day. Our companions, a woman friend of Aina’s mum and Asgar a young man from Kazakhstan also staying at the guesthouse directed us to one of the yurts to partake of food and Kumiss (fermented mares milk – not to my taste but of course I tried it). There we were encouraged to take photos of each other reclining it on the carpets and of course some beautiful embroidered pictures came out for sale. Mostly these were of Putin, their PM and Trump! We were not at all interested in these but there was a small picture of a Kyrgyz archer but I didn’t buy it because I really wasn’t sure what the custom was here.
As we left the Yurt it was obvious something was about to happen so we stopped. It was a beautiful and interesting musical play of a courtship of a young man and woman and village life, we think! Dancers in beautiful costume and little girls playing Ordo, a game played with sheep bones and looked the same as knuckle bones of my youth! A narrator sang the story and members of the village acted out the play. This lasted for about an hour and we stayed for it all sitting in an audience with a small party of Japanese tourists.
We then meandered slowly up to the northern most point where Aina and the UNDP yurt was situated. Lots of dressed up people to watch and a big bazaar. We had a few words and then found out that the sporting activities were in another group of yurts some 1/2 km to the east. We walked over and then sat on a hill avoiding the cow pats and horse dung and settled to watch hawk and golden eagle hunting/ baiting. One Arab was virtually disqualified because he was not swinging the lure to entice the hawk but letting it rest on the ground. The referees were very kind though and just timed him out really.
The eagles were another thing. The first two ‘enticements’ ended with the eagles flying off in the wrong direction. There seemed to be distractions such as dogs and would you believe it a drone! But once they sorted that out we saw some fabulous flying!
It was now about 2o’clock and we had had no lunch! There was no food or drink in this area and we reluctantly decided we would need to take the half mile hike to the bazaar when we came across a very enterprising man selling pastries and cakes from the back of his van. Just 60 SOM for two large pain de chocolate type pastries. So we were able to stay some more and went to watch the archery.
This was fascinating! In the event we saw, the competitors stood with their backs to the target, all in national costume, loaded the bow and then turned the top part of their bodies to fire. There were handsome representatives of all the home countries as well as a lady in Tyrolese gear from Germany. We stayed a while watching and then moved on. We decided to pass on the boules taking place in some open walled yurt shaped structures.
So we took the long walk back to the main camp. Where are those horses when you need one? (I had walked 7.5km by the end of the day). We headed for the bazaar to seek proper lunch and found a corner selling Plov. Nothing like Sultans but dead cheap at whole £1.50! And a huge portion. Ian went looking for drink and came upon compote which he was given free.
It was huge bazaar with just about everything nomadic. Skins of all varieties, craft products, food products especially dried fruits, clothing, lots of drinks including the local concoctions. These were not to my taste although we were assured they were very thirst quenching.
Being very foot sore by now we wandered off south looking for seating and came upon an arena where, once I sat my bum down, I discovered was to observe events on a huge central stage where a number of demonstrations and competitions around the concept of narrations from different areas was in progress.
We sat and listened for awhile. The stage was a long way from the audience which was a shame but the music was mystical and the performance was held in an amazing venue with the mountains in the background, and stone and wooden ethnic stage and decorations.
We were then attracted by noise to the tail end of some kind of horse acrobatics but we only saw I person standing on his horse. Shame.
So we continued our walk around the different camps. We enjoyed a good 15 minutes watching a different village music and dance performance sitting on a slope amongst several families dressed in different ethnic costumes. Shortly afterwards Aina rang to say we needed to head back up the archery at the other end of the village because they have organised a one way system for access. It was a long way! And all the horses had disappeared again! But we got there, watching a dog race on the way.
So a long drive home through spectacular scenery. No pictures though as I had a sleeping baby in my arms. Amir was totally exhausted from all the excitement. He had had lots of rides on horses one way or another.
Home then for another delicious meal from Aina’s Mum. This time another delicious soup, kippers much tastier than those we usually have, chicken breast, mashed potato and salads, and finally fresh fruit.
The evening was spent in earnest discussion between a friend of Aina’s mum, with no English and who used to work with the Soviets, Askar from Kazakhstan translating very rapidly and Ian. I was mostly nodding off!