Be still my bleating heart

Tag : wool hat

This treeless landscape is a sharp contrast to the forests ofeastern Kyrgyzstan. Sheep and goats tear at the last of the summergrass. Dogs work the horse pack which is tethered away from thecamp.
In late afternoon the goats huddle around the yurts, which are nowenveloped in dung-spice smoke as Marat delivers his "Short HistoryOf Kyrgyz Sheep".
"What kind of sheep are these," I ask.
"The brown and black ones are Kyrgyz sheep, the white ones aremixed sheep."
"Mixed sheep?"
"Yes, mixed with any other sheep."
Looking like Genghis Khan, even on a small, sturdy donkey, Sashastambles by wearing a kalpak, the tall Peter Pan felt hat worn byolder Kyrgyz men. He has been out herding his goats from a nearbymountain and his daughter comes out to greet him. I am invited tostop by a yurt where a young girl offers me kymis, fermented mare'smilk. I can not refuse. I have so far successfully avoided thissour sip of the steppes, of which European men are expected to downendless bowls.
The unnerving thing about Song Kol is that most of the time I thinkI have gone deaf. Occasionally I hear a goat bleating for itsmother halfway up a mountain or a donkey's protests close to camp.In between there is a pressing, unearthly silence.
The landscape is other-worldly: the lake and its shore are part ofthe Song Kol zoological reserve; waterfowl and the few remainingwolves are protected. A few seagulls bob on the lake'sdiamond-clear surface. Brown shaved mountains, snow-powdered on topand stained by a network of dry rivulet beds below, arch aroundthis water cradle.
I share meals with the family in their yurt, eating staples likeplov, a Central Asian pilau, and the best tomatoes I have tasted inyears. Dessert is koymak with keymak - crepes with fresh cream andblackcurrant jam. There is always tea, in this case milk tea servedin small bowls. Anara and her mother take turns in filling my bowl,then their own. A radio hangs off one of the willow canes as thefamily listens to programs crackling in from the capital, Bishkek.
As with many Kyrgyz, Anara's family speaks Russian as well asKyrgyz, a Turkic language. Hospitality is easy and natural withthese shepherds. If I were in a family they would serve dinner inmy yurt; as a solo traveller it is much more fun to share mealswith the family and Marat.
The family are members of the Community Based Tourism network inKyrgyzstan. Most of the money I pay for accommodation and mealswill go to them with a cut to the network's national and localbranches.