Bishkek - Visiting Talrat

The Wednesday morning (06.11.2019) starts for me, like the last few days in DA in Almaty, with a walk accompanied by Rango. Back at the hostel, we have breakfast and then it's time to say goodbye. It's around noon when we go back to Car City and waste time searching for a gas adapter. After realizing that we can't find a suitable part in Car City, we at least fill up the LPG tank and drive to the Shibeck Scholy Bazaar, still hoping to have more success here. We think we are lucky when we finally find a supposedly suitable part at a special container after a long search and also get a set of keys made for Schrotti. Back at our Moskvich, we are completely disappointed. Neither the keys nor the adapter fit. Back at the bazaar, we can at least exchange both for cash. Then we treat ourselves to a coffee and some pastries before we continue our journey to Bishkek around five o'clock. On the way, we also fill up the petrol tank, as fuel is significantly more expensive in Kyrgyzstan. It is already half past eight when we arrive slightly frozen in the last town before the border. The heating in the Moskvich is still not working and with outside temperatures sometimes below zero degrees, we are also sitting in the car in the cold. The car is whistling from all possible places. So we invest our last Tenge in a tea house for a small dinner and warm ourselves up a bit. We have juicy lamb skewers, bread, tea, and two different soups for dessert. The skewers are great, but the soups don't impress us much. Recently, we have been cooking too well ourselves. After a good hour of rest, we drive the last kilometers in Kazakhstan to the border, which we have to cross separately again. It goes quite smoothly at first. When I leave the Kazakh stamp station behind me, Marcus is also almost stamped out. So I stroll to the Kyrgyz border hut and get my entry stamp. Upon arriving in Kyrgyzstan, I notice a small mishap. I still have the key for Schrotti with me. It's stupid because if Marcus has to open the trunk for inspection, he can't. After waiting for a while, uncertainty prevails and I turn to a border guard with the problem. Unfortunately, I don't quite understand what the man suggests, but before I know it, I am stamped out of Kyrgyzstan again. A moment later, Marcus arrives with Schrotti at the Kyrgyz border post. Bad timing. The border guard at least brings the key to Marcus, but I still have to go back to Kazakhstan. Fill out the registration form, withstand questioning by the border guards, get an entry stamp in my passport, leave the border area and enter it again on the other side of the road. Then get another exit stamp for Kazakhstan and an entry stamp for Kyrgyzstan and walk to Schrotti, where Marcus has used the delay for a smoke break. By the way, no border guard wanted to look inside the trunk. It is already well past midnight and we hope that we can still find our sleeping place. We had announced our arrival in a small hostel in the north of Bishkek by no later than nine o'clock. Half an hour later, we are lucky and find the house quite quickly. Talrat, the son of the host family, opens the door and greets us with 'Good evening, gentlemen'. We settle into our room, chat a bit with our host, who speaks fluent Kyrgyz, Russian, and English as well as decent Korean and German. After a few cups of tea, some bread with butter and sweets, we retreat to our mattresses.

It is already around ten o'clock on Thursday when I wake up for the first time. Time for a walk around the block with Rango. Bad roads and a series of small plots and houses hidden behind walls and fences characterize the neighborhood. On the way, I buy a few small things at a store and we walk back to Talrat's parents' house. Marcus has also gotten out of bed by now and we enjoy the offered breakfast. Throughout the day, I write a travel report and upload some pictures. Meanwhile, Marcus takes a nap; he caught a cold during our night drive the day before. But he perks up again in the afternoon after a cup of coffee, and we make plans to meet Nasiba in the center of Bishkek in the evening. After accompanying the Dicken on a trip in the residential area, I join Marcus as we take a trolleybus to the city. We meet at the Pub Munich. Nasiba is already waiting for us with two colleagues (she gave her first German lessons this week), but one of them quickly flees after our arrival. It remains somewhat puzzling, as we are both freshly showered, decently dressed, and behaved appropriately when greeting each other. So at least we spend a very entertaining evening with Sara and Nasiba. Besides enjoying beer and shawarma, we also compete in a few foosball games, with Nasiba making us look pretty old. It's late at night again when we make our way back to the hostel. Once there, I take the Dicken for a walk before going to bed.

After getting up quite late on Friday, November 8th, 2019, we spend most of the day searching for an adapter for our gas tank. We have no luck in various workshops or at a special bazaar. So we at least buy some groceries, drive back to Talrat's place, make coffee, and cook a small meal for the evening. We manage to convince both Talrat and his brother to join us for dinner. Then it's late at night again when we go to sleep.

On Saturday, we search again for a gas adapter but instead find some snow chains and some tubing to reconnect Schrotti's heater to the cooling circuit. At least. I manage to find some sheep innards for the Dicken. Back at the hostel, Rango enjoys his treats in the garden, Marcus earns himself a coffee, and I dedicate myself to our heating problem. In the evening, we cook a pot of soup, which the whole Talrat family ends up eating.

After starting Sunday (November 10, 2019) with a batch of pancakes, we laze around a bit. In the afternoon, we take the opportunity to bake Samsas with Medina (Talrat's sister). We fill the puff pastry bags, typical for Central Asia, with a pumpkin-onion mixture before they go in the oven to bake. The result convinces both in taste and appearance. Following Talrat's recommendation, we then go to a nearby banja in the early evening. We wash ourselves in the tiled anteroom before entering the wooden-clad sauna room. On my first attempt, I pour a bit too much water over the hot stones and the stove, so we have to ventilate and leave the sweat chamber in a hurry. On my second attempt, I have better control of the dosage, and we can stay there for a while. Nevertheless, this is one of the hottest saunas I have ever been in. The stove is really active. After three rounds of sweating, relaxing in the anteroom, and using the oak leaf whip provided by Talrat's father, we return to the hostel. The drizzle that has started by now doesn't bother us much. We are warmed up and feel great. In the evening, Talrat's parents join us in their living room, share stories from their lives, and show us some pictures from the past. Once again, very nice people that our journey has led us to.