Thursday, 4 August 2011

From Yesterday morning, leaving Song Kul and stopping briefly in Kochkor

We spent the last two nights snuggled down against the cold in yurts that smelled like warm ponies in the sun.

We made our way down from Song Kul, taking two French people who had hiked in and been stuck there, unable to find a lift out. There was a prickly lunch stop where we ate something rather unappetising made from the bulk stores. It was bloody hot, especially after the chill of 3000+ metres. And there was a rather vicious complement of thorns that made birkenstocks an unreliable method of transport for a bush pee. I think I shall carry on at length about bush pees later.

I am not sure what has happened today, but moral has dropped. Maybe people haven't been sleeping well. I don't know, but I am finding more excuses to be on my own. 

I remain uncomfortably happy. I am reading three fabulous books. I am listening to all the new music Andrew and Gemma gave me when they left the trip in Bishkek. I am making plans for the future. Last night I sang with Juan while he played his guitar. And, today, I had a sneaky adventure.

We were coming back into Kochkor to get supplies. and I asked Farhod (our local guide) if there were any ATMs (because I am fresh out of cash) or if he knew of any where I could buy yarn (Al wants a tea cosy). There are no ATMs, but he had to go to the felt museum (where we have already made several expensive stops) to find something out for Al. He took me with him and they had a bag of handmade odds and ends and we worked out which ones I could take. Farhod went for a shower and got back just as we had things sorted nicely. And then I found out that we were expected to stay for tea. 

Farhod is like family to them and so, by extension, was I for a little while. It turns out 'tea' included a huge plate of delicious breads. A bowl of ridiculously tasty mutton, barley and vegetable soup, a plate of steamed vegetables, delicious fried eggplant wrapped around something that featured garlic, a plate of cheesy steamed barley and a bowl of dried fruit and boiled sweets. And a cup of the fermented milk/wheat drink. Even having made only a sketchy attempt at lunch I was outclassed by such a magnificent meal. Farhod told me I couldn't tell the others on the truck. I have no inclination to. I have that pleasant 'I'll never eat again' feeling. I also needed the good dose of vegetables that were in the soup.

We camp by a reservoir tonight and I am looking forward to a swim.


Morag said...

I love this story, but there needs to be a photo of said yarn.

Ceels said...

Ahhh! The yarn is on Asima at the moment, but I will photograph it at the earliest opportunity.