Two Stops Past Siberia

Last week found ol’ Kyrgy Carl jaunting around Bishkek and the serene Lake Issyk Kul. See, with my natural dyes course all but wrapped up, I took the opportunity to indulge myself.

Bishkek, folks, is a city in its own right. There are little cafes and shady parks. Kyrgyz people sit beneath trees and on street corners selling hard yogurt balls, sunflower seeds, and other various sundries. The center of town holds a strikingly symmetrical array of imposing state buildings and fountains. Furthermore, the Internet can be so free flowing, that I used and abused that thing we all know as Facebook!

These days, folks, I’ve got friends in Bishkek. Since the beginning, the place I so liberally called a “metropolis” just keeps getting smaller.

From Bishkek, I made my way back to the Lake – it is, after all, apple season.

For those of you who remember my old teacher, Tamerlane, the Hero King, he was, just as last year, picking apples when I arrive. This time, however, helping him was my goal. We spent the better part of a morning together, just picking apples. We spoke mostly in Kyrgyz, a vast change from when I first met him. We told stories, and just enjoyed each other’s company. The serenity was profound.

If there are many things prettier than a hand on a red apple, framed only by a cloudless sky, I’d be hard-pressed to name them.

Later that day, some other volunteers showed up form the nearby city of Karakol, a real urban center. They came to help, but also to play. They wanted to slaughter a sheep. During our first day, we cleaned off some mighty apple trees in record time. The next morning, we headed to the animal bazaar.

Once there, in a funny way, I got to demonstrate some chops I hardly knew I had. I talked knowledgeably about sheep prices, and then helped tie up the animal’s legs. “Azamat!” said my teacher.

When we got home, I held the animal down while he slit its throat. Some of the other visiting volunteers were shocked by the site, for they’d yet to see a slaughter. It just shows to go you: there are as many volunteer experiences as there are volunteers. Next, when it came to butchering the animal, my teacher just said, “please, guys, go inside, and have some tea. I only need one helper, and for that, I’ll take the Naryn boy.” That Naryn boy, was of course, your Kyrgy Carl.

Really, though, it was a learning opportunity. Usually, folks, while I get to watch, nobody really wants me to help cut up the animal; there are inevitably people better qualified, even as helpers. Here though, I helped with the skinning, I knew when to snap the knees, and where to grab at the tendons. The organs didn’t scare me, and I knew they wouldn’t just break. When it came to torching the head and legs free of their fir, I was an absolute pro.

It seems, folks, Kyrgy Carl is living up to his name. He couldn’t have done it alone, though. And for that, god bless the lot of you, as you’ve been here, all the way, right by my side.