The majestic landscape of Central Asia. — Photos: AMAL NADIAH GHAZALI
The first word that I thought of as my rented four-wheel drive emerged out of the city of Almaty, Kazakhstan and into the wilderness was, “vast”.
Specifically, the vastness of it all, the wide open space, seemingly endless grasslands that’s framed by the majestic, extensive Tian Shin mountain range, capped with snow and shrouded with fleeting, light clouds.
The second thing that was immediately noticeable were the horses. Or rather, the sheer number of them. Dotting across the plains, grazing and galloping, their lush silky manes show you which way the wind was blowing.
There are more horses than there are people in Central Asia, it has been said, and it seems like this is true.
The writer on one of the horses she rode across the plains, one of the best ways to experience wilderness.
The plan was to make a large loop across two countries; Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. The trip was long and arduous, taking me across mountains, lakes, gorges, canyons, villages and rivers. It was an absolute treat.
Accommodations were simple, with the food an amalgamation of the local tribes and the ever-present Soviet influences, while the people were curious but unbothered by foreigners.
I started the trip from Kazakhstan, and it seemed to be more modern than its neighbouring countries in terms of infrastructure and development.
The city of Almaty exhibited Soviet-style architecture with its grand buildings and boxy suburbs, but it also has a European feel to it, with Korean delis and Western restaurants suggesting an openness for globalisation to a certain extent.
As I left the city for the wilderness, I saw small towns with few shops, and eventually, the Kazakhstan-Kyrgyzstan border. The border transfer was quick, with only a small building in the middle of nowhere and soldiers wrapped in thick coats. After a quick inspection we were officially out of Kazakhstan and into Kyrgyzstan, her wilder sibling.
The drive through this loop took countless days and a lot of patience. Sometimes there weren’t even proper roads, only dirt paths that lead up to the mountains or across the steppes. They aren’t for the faint-hearted nor weakened lumbar, for sure.
The scenery, however, was astounding. In my books, it is only second after north Pakistan (which, to date, after years and years of travelling the world, remains the most beautiful place I’d ever set my eyes on).
We took an old Russian jeep up the pine forests of Altyn Arashan – more famous for its winter getaways – which in autumn was a beautiful spectacle of orange, yellow and red. In the evenings it snowed, and we sat in the hot springs watching the cold outside, enjoying the little comforts against the hostile extremities of the weather.
The delicious Central Asian cuisine, a blend of local, Soviet and Chinese influences.
Dinner was borscht, a Russian-style soup made of beetroot ... it was a balm for the soul.
The Kazakhstan-Kyrgyzstan loop circumnavigated the great Issyk Kul Lake, the second largest alpine lake in the world. All around it you’ll drive past little towns and small settlements, including yurt encampments made for nomadic locals as well as for tourists.
The people here live harmoniously with nature, their sheep and horses living in their compounds, while eagles and dogs were utilised to hunt for game. The food is a reflection of the environment: Horse meat cured into sausages to survive the long winter, fatty lamb in plenty of noodles brought from neighbouring China, vodka to warm up the body, and deep red tomatoes that thrive in weather.
My last stop before heading back to Almaty was Kyrgyzstan’s capital, the city of Bishkek. Here, you can witness more of the Soviet era influence. The buildings were stoic, boxy, and grey, and the parks felt sterile.
Monuments upon monuments were found in every corner of the city, a glorification of Soviet heroes over the years. A large statue of Karl Marx and Friedrick Engels, depicted as being in deep thought and discussion, is a representation of the public’s adoration for their legacy.
At times, this part of the world felt isolated, like living in a closed bubble away from the rest of civilisation.
Beautiful autumnal forests of Altyn Arashan.
Sometimes while travelling, you’d seek out comforts of familiarity – a restaurant that serves dishes similar to what you’d get back home, perhaps. This particular trip, however, required us to step out of our comfort zones.
We observed people with completely different cultures, political views and lifestyles. We went through harsh but freeing landscapes, without the usual vanities you’re used to.
The language barriers were as equally hilarious as they were frustrating sometimes. We learnt new things, and came back with a different perspective. Which is, ultimately, the best-case outcome of travel.
The views expressed are entirely the writer’s own.
