Oshpitality 1

With a population of about 250,000 Osh is the second largest city in Kyrgyzstan, and it's a real mix. 28% of the population is Uzbek, which gives the place a hugely different flavour than some other Kyrgyz towns. And the Uzbek border is only just up the road.

Kurt, Darina and I found a guesthouse run by the lovely Tanya, who speaks fluent Russian, but no English. Somehow she can communicate really well with us that way, even though none of us speak Russian.

The completely discreet entrance to the guest house. No signage whatsoever. This is a really common thing in Kyrgyzstan, and I'm not sure why. Maybe the owners do it to avoid paying tax.

But it ain't great for business.

Bits of shipping containers are often used for building here.

Tanya's boss, who lives somewhere else, insists that she sends a photo of the cash she receives from every guest, with their passport. Never seen that before. Talk about control freak.

What a crock

Our street.

After a week of journeying, I was ready to rest for a couple of days. Kurt, Darina and I went out for dinner every night. We chatted about all sorts of things, including their lives in St Gallen, Switzerland, where Darina is an English teacher with a cushy job (sounds like one of my other English teacher friends), and Kurt is retired and spends his time eating nice cheese and planning his next cycle trips.

They do vlogs of their journeys, and recently did a 13 month journey of 15 countries in Africa, where they cycled from Angola in the southwest right down to Capetown, and then all the way around to Zanzibar via Mozambique and Zimbabwe. And a pile of other countries in between. Sounds amazing huh?

Check them out on www.gonebikeabout.com

We went to a few places to eat, including Navat again, the place I went to in Bishkek. It looks fancy, the food was ok, but the service was as slow as a Chinese border crossing.

Kurt all cool, relaxed, and beerish.

When Irish eyes are wily.

This reminds me of a pic of me of when I was a kid, at our school formal. We decorated the hall with long silvery foil, which we got from a milk bottling factory, leftovers from their foil bottle sealing process. Definitely a lifetime away.

I wasn't puckered up like Darina though.

A maze-ing Osh plumbing techniques

Incredibly, this hill is right in the middle of town. And yeah, of course we climbed it. Well, part of it.

Spacey looking museum

Kurt outside a fertility cave. Local women slide in there and then get pregnant. It happens so often that the rock is now smooth and slippery. Wow, and I thought it was the stork.

The rather large sprawl of Osh

Babur, the founder of the Mughal Empire, used to meditate in here.

Loopin The Hills

Darina had the great idea of doing a 3 day loop around the hills of Osh before they fly out in a few days, and they said I could join them if I wanted. I was happy, both to spend some more time with these amazing people, and also to see more of the surrounds of this place.

On our way through the backstreets outa town an older man basically forced us to stop and go into his compound, where he ordered his grandson to pick apricots for us. So sweet!

So happy with the bounty. They needed to be eaten within hours, they were ready.

Good ol' water wheel, which hauled small buckets of water into a raised pipe for irrigation

"The Cooperation Of Everyone Is Good."

In the hot sun, not far out of Osh

We took some back roads, which were pretty dodgy in parts

Kurt couldn't wait

Heading up

We climbed to this pass, and then a little higher, to the real pass

Papan Reservoir ahead

Downhill and tarmac, both together!

It was stunningly beautiful, but there was no shade anywhere

We went for a dip

The wildlife followed us. See the vulture?

The guy in the black car was practicing his air gun shooting, aiming for a plastic bottle which his wife had stood up at the edge of the lake for him. See it? He was what Aussies would call a bloody wanker, firstly because he kept barking at his wife, and secondly because he was silly enough to be shooting not far from where people were swimming. Of all places to practice.

The scenery was stunning, as we eventually rode into the small town of Papan.

We stopped for drinks, and asked the shop owner Olam if he knew of a good campsite for the night. Pretty soon he'd offered us his back room. So generous.

Olam had inherited quite a lot of land, and it was teeming with ripe fruit - apples, peaches, plums, apricots, you name it.

There were even the sweet fruits of a lifetime of love in there

A Communist leprechaun beginning to prepare yet another superbly delicious dinner

Olam's wife brought out fresh peaches for us, a jar of very sweet preserved apricots, and a massive jar of kompot for us to drink. No shortage of Vitamin C around here at this time of year.

And no shortage of amazing old fashioned Oshpitality.

Kurt and Darina before I cremated them.

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