Kyrgyz Cuisine

Food choices in Kyrgyzstan are quite plentiful, but not especially diverse. It closely resembles modern Turkish food for obvious reasons (the Turks migrated to Anatolia around the 11-12th century from the Central Asian region), but the time interval and isolated evolution of tastes causes some important distinctions.

Traditionally, the "Kyrgyz" people, like their virtual twins the Kazakhs, were mostly nomadic, but it's more helpful to think of them as glacially-mobile ranchers than as an on-the-go Winnebago society. They took up semi-permanent residence in large felt-covered huts called Yurts and stayed in one location for a long season. When the season changed, they setup a semi-permanent settlement somewhere else.

What this means for cuisine is that they had access primarily to their own livestock, but also to crops they could grow quickly in small plots, which grow naturally, or that they could trade for - Central Asia was, afterall, the nexus of the Silk Road.

It is interesting that, some 400 years after the Silk Road all-but unravelled, and 150 years after Russian conquest, the radically reconfigured (and categorically created) "Kyrgyz nation" of urbanites and sedentary shephards continues to define itself by these lingering, and at times imagined, "nomadic" traditions.

Food is one such instance.

Here are the primary dishes of Kyrgyz cuisine, which are universally simple to prepare, rich and savory, and widely available in other international cuisines, despite the local insistence of the distinctiveness of the "Kyrgyz" variant

Shashlyk

There is nothing fancy about Kyrgyz Shashlyk - it is meat on a stick, roasted over charcoal. Unlike the more colorful examples from elsewhere around the globe, Shashlyk (which is refers to the unikely-Kyrgyz version of a kebab) does not involve any vegetables. It is chunks of marinated meat (usually beef or Lamb) sometimes interspersed with chunks of fat. It is usually served with raw sliced onions, herbs (cilantro?), and vinegar. I still cannot get anyone to tell me what the difference is between Kyrgyz Shashlyk and Kazakh Shashlyk, but I've been assured it is "totally different." I remain skeptical. These can be sold at fancy restaurants, or just by solo Shashlykiyya's (shashlyk cookers) along the roadside. Around $1.50/skewer.

Pilaf

An absolute mainstay, in Kyrgyzstan it's called "Pilau" and is a very static creation meaning rice cooked in oil then in a broth with slices of lamb and usually cooked carrots. There might be some boiled onions involved. This stands in great contradiction to my understanding of Pilav from back home, which was essentially any assortment of meats and veggies that was then cooked with rice. Various different nationalities claim their own "style" of pilav, but mostly this is just about the different ingredients, which within each country, are unalterable. Asking for pilau in Kyrgyzstan without carrots, for example, is wildly absurd. You can get pilau at restaurants, but I've found it more likely to be served at family gatherings (apparently, you don't go Out to just have pilau).

Manti

To date, this seems to be the most beloved of all Kyrgyz food insofar as every Kyrgyz I've met has either asked if I've had Manti, or tried actively to get to me to eat it. Don't let me paint this the wrong way - Manti is Not the "Haggis of Kyrgyzstan" - it's just steamed dumplings. That doesn't sound so bad, right? Even better, they're filled with meat (again, the lamb/beef differentiation is harder than one migth think) and grilled onions. But here's the drawback - "good" Manti also requires the presence of an equal 1:1 ratio of meet and boild fat chunks. Worse yet, the boiled onions, which are good, have the exact same color and consistency of the fat, so when you bit into a big which something, you're never sure quite what you're getting. The general slimy-texture (sorry Dim Sum fans, it's true) of steamed dumplings does nothing to cut down on the queasy reaction I get from the liquid grease and solid fat stuffed inside. They're usually sold at restaurants in bunches of 5 (which is a lot of Manti), positioned surrounding a lake of ketchup.

Samsa

Like much of Kyrgyz cuisine, the Samsa has a very direct connection to its cousin, the Indian Samosa, with one important difference: no veggies. Basically, a Samsa is the same thing as a Manti, but it's exterior dough is shaped differently, and it is fried (sometimes baked) rather than steamed. On the plus side, this dramatically decreases the slime-factor, but you still have an onion-or-fat minefield lurking insidiously inside the yummy crust. These are sold on the sidewalks for the unbelievably low price of 20 som (50 cents) a piece.

Laghman

Thank goodness for Dungans! This small "nationality" within Kyrgyzstan (off-handedly called "Chinese Muslims") are recognized as being distinct from Kyrgyz, but this particular dish is ubiquitous at Kyrgyz restaurants throughout Bishkek. It is hand-rolled noodles (no idea if they are wheat- or egg-based) with Lamb, onions, and various herbs and spices. It can be cooked in a broth to make a sort of irregular noodle soup, or it can be stirfried. Either way is super-good, though as with much other Central Asian cuisine, both usually involve the addition of a touch more grease than is "necessary."

Sharma

One of the two quintessential Kyrgyz fast-food options, "Sharma" is a derivation of the Turko-Arabic Shawarma, meaning "turning," in reference to the style of cooking in which a big pile of meat is put on a verical pole and cooked outside-in as it rotates in front of a flame. The cooked, exterior, is cut off and served while the next layer cooks fresh. The name is somewhat ironic in Kyrgyzstan, where I have yet to see a working constant-rotation cooker. The final product includes shaved meat (usually chicken, sometimes beef), french fries, shredded lettuce, and slices of cucumber and tomatoe slathered in mayo and ketchup, then wrapped up in a paper-thin (and universally stale) burrito-like pancake. More Moo Sui than Tortilla. It's tasty, but shockingly un-filling for all its girth. Hard to argue with, though, as a $1.20 (50 som) lunch-on-the-run.

Gamburger

the primary alternative to Sharma, the "Gamburger" is a hard nut to nail down. It's trying-to-be-a-hambuger-bun suggests this might just be a case of lost in transliteration, but the shawarma-style beef interior is a long way from a burger patty. Add the same cucumbuer, tomato, mayo & ketchup, and suddenly the differentiation comes down to just the packaging. Bready-bun, or flimsy wrap. There are a few stands that sell "Hamburgers," which are the same thing as a gamburger, but with an actual ground-meat patty, but these remain few and generally more upscale (franchised chains vs. mom&pop stands). A little pricier at $1.30 a pop.

And that's pretty much it. There are a variety of salads (pick 2 uncooked veggies, add vinegar), and a few other national foods I've yet to try, but these are the big ones, and it must be said, make up the overwhelming majority of "Kyrgyz Cuisine."

As for diversity, Bishkek is decidedly the internationl hub. Indian, Chinese, Russian, and even a rare Korean, Italian, or "American" - burgers or pizza - are around if you look hard enough. I saw an ad for an "American/Mexican" restaurant, but the menu wasn't tempting enough to even give it a fair shake. Perhaps I'll change my mind as the summer wears on.

It should also be said the above is a decent look only a "City Kyrgyz" food. I don't have any idea what they eat in the villages and countryside, though I'm willing to bet it involves a fair amount of pilau, lamb-everything, and more gristle than I've consumed in my entire life.

In short, the food is much better than my Estonian/Serbian experience. People here eat real food, but it does tend to be real heavy, and most of it didn't spring forth from soil. I do actually know 2 ex-pats in Bishkek who are staying vegetarians while they're here, but so far I've only seen them eat french fries and carrots.

Apparently the "wealth" of veggies I see at the markets now (exclusively as follows: cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, onions, eggplants) declines to practically nothing during the winter months. According to one coleague, "it gets old eating the same canned meat and bread for 6 months."

Another recent admonishion from a guy traveling the countryside: "I haven't had anything to eat but Snickers for 4 days."

Cost: 23 som (50 cents) each.

Why wait?

Weber (on the lamb)

UNdecision 2009

(a campaign billboard at the busiest intersection in Bishkek reads: Bakiev, a Real President. the man in the photo is a janitor-turned-chef, thanks to Bakiev's economic reforms, or so the heavily-run associated TV commercial claims)

It is common in US scholarship, and even more so in journalism, to add a short tag, essentially the informal motto, after use of the term "Kyrgyzstan," as in: "Kyrgyzstan, the most democractic of the Central Asian Republics..."

As I said, the phrase is widely used - and for good reason. Kyrgyzstan is different from much of what can be found in Central Asia, and this phrase is an attempt to encapsulate the many elements that differentiate it from its neighbors.

However, it is also categorically wrong, and I'd like to highlight, briefly, how it is wrong, and why such a gloss has more serious repurcussions than simply bad diction.

Generally speaking, Kyrgyzstan is the most socially liberal country in Central Asia, and its government maintains more personal and professional freedoms and less direct control of the population than any other - including a not insubstantial degree more openness than its closes rival, affluent Kazakhstan.

We could simplify this to say the Kyrgyz Republic is more "Western," but only if we're prepared to define which Western this is - US, Canada, Mexico, Sweden, Italy, etc. I'm not.

From my observations, I would say that the "culture" is overwhelmingly influenced by the Russification (itself a brand of Europeanization) of the Soviet era, but that in Kyrgyzstan there has been a (political) choice to allow certain freedoms that are not present in, as an extreme example, Turkmenistan.

However, I think it's very important to realize that these limited freedoms are 1) Very closely limited - they are not absolute, and can be transgressed at the discretion of the government, and 2) they are a reflection of the government's choice, not the people's.

In other words, there is no democracy in Kyrgyzstan.

There are degrees of "freedom," and I would say generally "liberal" (in the classic sense - not the modern "left") social and political policies. But when the state tells you it is permitting (as in, with a state-issued permit) you to speak freely, rather than a people demanding and getting guarantees of free speech, there is a very different paradigm at work.

Let's take a look at Kyrgyz Presidential history.

Kurmanbek Bakiev was elected president 4 years ago shortly after he lead the "Tulip Revolution" against former president (and ex-Soviet premier) Akaiev. In essence, Akaiev's corruption and nepotism became so exacerbated that public will turned against him, and sensing this, a majority of politicians decided to make a play of their own. Bakiev was at the head of this movement. When Akaiev realized the game was up and he would need to exercise force to stay in power, he elected not to mess with it. An academic by training, he preferred to retire to a life of ease and teaching in Russia, along with his considerable fortune (amassed entirely since 1991).

Bakiev took over more than just the office. He assigned Akaiev's former assets to his own family and associates, and now after 4 short years of "development" assistance from China, Russia and the West, personally controls more of the Kyrgyz economy even than Akaiev did. It has been demonstrated, for example, that the majority of US economic assistance sent to Kyrgyzstan wound up in Bakiev's pocket: he paid his own companies large sums to do the work with no-bid contracts.

To portray the Tulip Revolution of 2005 as any sort of "Triumph of Democracy," as has been the norm, is simply disengenuous. There were barely even minor changes to the government structure, and one kleptocracy smoothly replaced another. The validity of Bakiev's "election" in 2005 is generally assumed to be valid - but strongly biased by an odd lack of competitors from outside his circle of associates.

This summer, the Kyrgyz Presidential campaign season runs from June 18 to July 23. Those 25 days are the only ones in which candidates are allowed to speak openly about their platforms, run advertisements, etc. At least, this is true for opposition candidates. The incumbent operates under different rules.

Some things to note:

1) Prior to June 18, President Bakiev had a sudden influx of media time. He wasn't campaigning (in that, he didn't Tell people to vote for him), but he did use the opportunities to "explain" how he has run Kyrgyzstan for the past 4 years, how the country had improved, and what plans he has for the future.

2) There is a vitural construction boom in Bishkek at the moment, with public works projects that have been mysteriously stalled for months suddenly on the fast-track. A major thoroughfare in downtown Bishkek was torn up 6 months ago and sat, un-paved & disrupting traffic, until 2 weeks ago. It is scheduled to "reopen" by mid-July. The main plaza of Bishkek, Ala-Too Square, just got completely renovated, including new patriotic statues, childrens' fountains, painting, a new Kyrgyz flagpole, etc. Everything proves that life is good - under Bakeiv.

3) Suddently, Kyrgyzstan takes center-stage on international issues. Whether it's securing $2 billion in aid and loans from Russia, dramatically kicking US forces out of Manas air base, or flamboyantly deciding US forces can stay (for a 10 fold increase in $), the past 5 months have seen Kyrgyzstan, and Bakiev personally, play a much larger role in international affairs than ever before. "I am a Big Man, and only I know how to deal with Big Powers," he seems to say. Let this be a lesson to Western-centric foreign policy experts: sometimes, geopolitical brew-ha-ha is NOT about US-Russian relations; it's not all about you (s-a).

4) Despite the sudden (June 18) influx of Bakiev posters, billboards, TV and Radio adds, there are virtually no other campaign ads in Bishkek. Whereas most local businesses have Bakiev posters in their windows, only one opposition candidate - the long-shot Social Democrats - even have posters, and these are universally affixed to light poles and graffiti walls - places that no one "owns" or suggests they support him publicly.

5) Opposition campaign headquarters and activists have all mysteriously wound up in the files of state security agencies as potential terrorists. Some have been raided, computers confiscated, or people arrested under these charges. They are usually released a few days later, with excuses about a "mix up." Often the computers are not returned in functional order - any files on them having been erased. Several campaign speeches have also been forced to disband when police arrived to "protect them" from anonymous tips of "terrorists" attacks.

Prof. Lincoln Mitchell talked about how the first 1 or 2 elections of a new state are actually a forum for democratic change, but once the regime is settled, they become only instruments of that regime and the status quo.

The argument runs like this: The powers-that-be allow an election to take place only because it is in their best interest. Elections help incumbents reaffirms their "democratic" credentials with their western allies, give them a public forum to strengthen their own popularity, and allow them to make a lot of $ through "encouraged" campaign fund raising (campaign expenses often come from state funds), all at virtually no risk. The outcome of the election is already decided - were it not, there would not be any "election" taking place.

My rant here is not about this system of government, what some stubbornly call a "semi-democratic" state. This isn't what I think is the best system, nor do I think most Kyrgyz would necessarily choose this system if given a choice, but that's a long way from the point.

My specific beef is that, however much or little the liberal social elements of Kyrgyz society mirror those of "Western Democracies," the people do not play a role in deciding the composition or activities of the government, so it cannot be, in even a technical sense, "democratic."

Yet I would stress again that it is different from the other Central Asian Republics.

The amount of personal freedom in Kyrgyzstan is Substantially greater than you will find in Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, or Kazakhstan. I don't have a frame of reference for Russia, China, Iran, Afghanistan or Pakistan (the other relevant regional players).

This is a good thing - No, it's great! But it's not democracy, and calling it democracy has a corrosive effect.

When Barak Obama (sorry buddy) congratulates President Bakiev on his Democratic credentials, this takes the wind out of any opposition movement that could try to proclaim otherwise (Bakiev: "If America say's I'm democracy, then I am democracy!"), and it undermines domestic democratic education. Central Asians (if they could be spoken of as a group) are still learning what "democracy" means. If the West points to Bakiev's system of Oligarchical Kleptocracy and says, "look, this is what we mean by democracy," then why would anyone want more democracy?

I will color this post one step further: I don't believe "democracy" in any institutional sense is a universal goal. It may not be the best for all countries because of civic, economic, or other reasons. In fact, a strong dose of non-democracy (lobbyists, extreme wealth bias, etc) is at play in America, and we seem pretty happy with it - or at least not so upset that we do anything about it (other than write long, sarcastic blog posts).

I think as a general principle, all people should live under a system of government which they are willing to accept (or at least tolerate) - that is, no one should be oppressed by their state. Under this rubrik, Kyrgyzstan (and America) are both within my "fine so long as they're happy" qualifier.

But let's not put an Apple in a Dos Equis and call it a Lime.

I didn't make any strong predictions before the US election because, to be honest, I had no idea how it was going to go. I didn't initially think Obama had a snowball's chance in hell, and as the day got closer, I kept expecting my cynicism to be vindicated. I'm glad it wasn't, by the way.

But I will go "out on a limb" in Kyrgyz politics.

Presidential Election Prediction: Kurmanbek Bakiev Wins in Landslide. Probably not a ridiculous, international-guffaw 90%, but maybe... 73% Bakiev?

And for those of you who think all this talk of politics is "risky" under such a regime, I assure you it is not.

One of the great results of being in total control of a state's political system is that you don't even need to bother with oppressing the opposition - so firm and absolute is your hold on power that they are simply not a threat.

Engaging them in debate, or attempting to silence them, on the otherhand, generates the kind of attention and international sympathy that you don't want (see Iran).

Let them make all the noise they want; you can't out-scream a hurricane (to apply a totally ill-suited analogy to Kyrgyz politics).

But don't point to the Eye and tell me it's clear skies, either.

Weber (on the lamb)

V is for Visa

Getting in or out of a country, especially given the supposedly strident War on Terror and operations to disrupt the cross-border narcotics trade, would seem to present greater difficulties than what would be required merely to Not cross a border - that is, to stay in a country.

But not so!

The issue of Kyrgyzstan's odd border situation - with multiple "kyrgyz islands" embedded in neighboring Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, and reciprocal "tajik/uzbek islands" within Kyrgyz territory - will have to wait for another post. It's a topic of some interest, and admittedly has spring-boarded to local headlines over this summer as long-quiet disputes are flaring up and small pockets of actual terrorists (as opposed to the peaceful protestors usually assigned the title) have been caught traversing the largely-permeable border areas.

Instead, this is a post about one simple man's effort to stay right where he's at.

Upon arrival at Bishkek's Manas International Airport (another item of considerable international news recently with the dramatic (though not unexpected) reversal of the Kyrgyz threat to expel US military forces operating there since 2001), I initially purchased a 30-day tourist visa. Airport cost: $70.

The downside of the airport visa, which can be purchased "on arrival" with no prior planning, is that it can only be for single entry, and it cannot be extended. Once it expires, you must either be out of the country, or have gotten a brand new visa. Or so I later learned.

Originally, the plan was to get a 3-month business visa as an official intern with RFE/RL (known locally as Radio Azattyk). In the months prior to my US departure, this was proceeding along well until someone put 2 and 2 together. I was a US citizen coming to Kyrgyzstan for "Journalism" exactly during the period of the Kyrgyz Presidential Election.

Request: Denied.

So instead, as far as the Kyrgyz Republic is concerned, I am here as a Tourist. Thus far it's been more accurate than any ostentatious "journalist" credential would suggest. But it does require getting a second visa to stay for the duration of my internship.

How this went from being a simple formality into a week-long affair can be attributed mostly to language breakdowns and the legacy of Soviet bureacracry.

Friday, June 19 (Visa expiration in 10 days).

Having been abandoned by my intern advisor, who had to make a trip to Tajikistan at the beginning of the week, I made inquiries to some other Radio Azattyk staff. "So... what do I need to do about my visa?"

The response: "Um... we'll look into that."

One of the other tidbits of advice I had upon arrival was that the Manas airport visa was by far the easiest to acquire. It was recommended that when my first visa ran out, I should just take a weekend trip to Almaty (Kazakhstan, 5 hours by car) or Dushanbe (Tajikistan, airport). I could then get a new Kyrgyz visa upon re-entry at Manas.

I spent the weekend looking into this option, but it wasn't promising. Dushanbe was expensive, but viable - visa on entry at the airport and again on return to Manas. However, the airlines don't book on-line, so pricing out this option was a problem, and so was searching for flights/open seats on 1-week notice.

Kazakhstan was iffy about visas-on-arrival - they may/may not have required a letter of invitation, which I didn't have. Further, Kazakh visas took 3 days to get, and because it was "so close," there was only a few flights from Almaty to Bishkek every day, usually around 3 am. Ground transport return wasn't an option since they check visas at the border, and I wouldn't have one. Unless I got a Kyrgyz visa while in Kazakhstan, which was possible, but also took 3 business days - so much for the weekend - out of my planned 5-day Kazakh "transit" visa stay.

Confused yet? So the weekend went.

Monday, June 22 (V-minus 7 days)

It was decided that I would extend my current visa (see above), and that since my intern advisor was abroad, two other Azattyk staff would assist me (ok, to be honest, do it for me).

I insisted that this wouldn't be necessary. I haven't traveled widely, but thus far the most reliable truism I knew was that any country that wanted tourism (and who doesn't?) at least has a visa program that can be navigated by tourists.

Nonetheless, it was insisted that an Azattyk reporter, Eleanora, would accompany me to the Kygyz Ministry of Foreign Affairs, just in case.

Tuesday, June 23 (V-minus 6 days)

After much waiting and no small amount of josteling ("lines" are a totally inaccurate referrant for Kyrgyz-style ques), Eleanora was able to confirm that we would need an official letter of invitation from Radio Azattyk as well as 5 additional documents (verifying Azattyk's credentials), my passport, a passport-sized photo, and formal approval from the Kyrgyz government for my internship - approval that required a minimum of 10 days to process, and which, based on our earlier experience, I was pretty sure we would be denied.

This didn't seem to distract my Azattyk co-workers. They spent the day assembling the proper forms & letters.

I called the US Embassy (another full post if you're desperately curious. The US Embassy in Kyrgyzstan is not known as the most efficient/competent of America's various bureacracies abroad. From a journalistic stance, it is Extremely tight-lipped, even by Central Asian standards, and from the local perspective, it is not very involved with anything except official Presidential correspondence. On the up side, the ambassador is supposedly (finally) learning to speak Kyrgyz).

The Embassy told me that I needed to go to the Office of Visas & Registration (OVIR), that it would cost about $15, should be ready the same day, and that I wouldn't need any additional letters. I was given the address - 58 Kievska, very close to my flat.

I was also informed that I would need a new visa; it was only at this time that it was revealed that Manas airport visas were not extendable. On the plus side, my new visa would be multiple-entry (allowing for trips to neighboring Kazakhstan and Tajikistan later in the summer).

Wednesday, June 24 (V-minus 5 days)

Upon arrival at OVIR offices (58 Kievska, as US Embassy directed), we were told that we were in the wrong place. I say "we," but honestly it was all Eleanora. As in the Kyrgyz Ministry of Foreign Affairs, not only was there not a sinlge English-speaking visa officer, there weren't even any signs, forms, or directions in any language except Russian & Kyrgyz; the ominous exception being the letters outside the building, "Office of Visas and Registration."

A short walk later (and it must be said, 2 blocks closer to my flat), we arrived at the "Bishkek" bureau of OVIR - or so I was told. The building had no markings in English to denote it as such, and my scant knowledge of Cyrillic couldn't find any allusion to OVIR, visa, etc.

Here we were told that I needed to fill out 3 identical forms and attach 3 photographs to them. There was a copy machine in the corner - we were not to use it. In addition to the 3 forms, I had to have a letter of invitation from Radio Azattyk, my passport, a photocopy of my passport (which could be purchased), and $25.

When we got up to pay, I noticed the (Russian) sign said that 1-entry visas were (equivalent) $25, while multiple-entries were more. I asked if I could pay more for the multiple entry. It was at this time that we were informed that no, I was not allowed to have a multiple-entry visa (apparently under any circumstances). My Azattyk colleagues suggested I could visit Almaty at the end of July and just not come back to Bishkek - too bad my flight leaves from Manas, and cannot just be "switched" to Almaty.

On the plus side, I should have my visa (and be allowed to stay in Kyrgyzstan) by the next afternoon.

Downside - they hold your passport at OVIR while the visa is being prepared. In theory, I could tell any curious police officer that my passport was at OVIR, and if they were patient and dilligent enough, they could verify this... somehow. Needless to say, I felt very vulnerable for the next 36 hours without it.

Thursday, June 25 (V-minus 4 days - notably, only 1 more business day)

We arrived back at "Bishkek-OVIR" at 4 pm as we were told to. In theory, all I had to do was walk up, say my name, and get my passport. I again tried to dissuade Eleanora from coming along - Surely I can pickup a passport by myself!

Apparently, OVIR collects passports all day, then takes them to the back office at the end of the day. They then spend the entire day checking, verifying, and filling out new visas all the next day, and send the entire pile to the front desk at 4:30. The offices close (mercilessly) at 5, and any unclaimed visas are held until the next afternoon. You can see what sort of feeding frenzy this *might* cause.

We entered a small office packed with travel agents, local Kyrgyz (and their sons), and only a few other tourists. Most people who travel in CA do use tourist agencies, which take care of all the hassel of visas, etc. without the traveler present. This does make the room less crowded, but it also means that one person in line might take 6-12 times as long to collect and sign all the relevant measures to pickup a passport in abstentia.

After even more josteling, by 4:48 pm, I had a passport in my hand, and a decent assurance that it was mine. We checked outside, and indeed:

Richard Ryan Weber

Single Entry Tourist Visa

Expires July 28, 2009

(this was a major point - my flight out of country was for 27 July, and I was very worried that they would issue a visa for 30 days from issuance (expire 25 July) rather than from the expiration of my first visa (28 June). That would have been a big problem).

Eleanor and I stumbled out into the street. Checked the visa again, and took a deep breath.

It wasn't the type of visa I wanted. It wasn't the process I was told would work. But it was a visa.

I felt like celebrating - Victory! - but Eleanor had to get back to the station, and I was only 2 blocks from home. So I cooked myself some pasta (my staple), and stayed up late to watch another international football game (tough loss in the 88th minute by S. Africa to Brazil).

I don't know if I'll end up seeing Almaty or Dushabe - it is still possible, I suppose, with the purchase of a 3rd visa at Manas - but I do plan to get more distance out of Visa #2 than I have with Visa #1. Kyrgyzstan isn't a huge place, but there's much more to see than Bishkek, and it is perhaps time I started seeing it.

Especially if my "internship" has no other plans for me.

Weber (on the lamb)

Tourista pt. 2 - Bazaar!

As part of the continuing effort not to leave Bishkek without seeing the relatively few "touristic" sites it actually has, I set out on Sunday for the Osh Bazaar, the largest open-air market in Bishkek.

The bazaar itself is about 3 km West of the city center, and as I live about 3 km East of the city center, it was going to be a good hike. Sure, there are buses and trolleys that run that exact route, but I brought hiking shoes to Bishkek for a reason.

It has finally gotten warm in Kyrgyzstan, so for a day of hiking, I decided to go with my "tech" cargo pants - thin material that stays cool and dries fast. It also has zip-off legs, but I've noticed that only Germans and children wear shorts (so far) in Bishkek - and I'm neither.

So in a t-shirt (who do I need to impress?), cargo "tech" pants, hiking shoes, and my trusty backpack (thanks Mary Tev, circa 1999), I set out for a "tourist" day.

The big danger in looking like a Tourist in Bishkek is not from pick-pockets or assault, but from the kind of low-level graft associated with the local police. They aren't out to hurt anyone or make a scene, they just want to see if they can scam or slip a few som (cash) off you through "inspections" or unusual "fines."

These are the tactics I had been told about, and was theoretically prepared to deal with.

For example, when a police officer asks to see your passport, simply hand over a photocopy. You can claim your passport is at the American Embassy, and they can't really follow-up because all they wanted was to shake you for some quick cash.

Further, you should never let police see, much less hold, your cash. Some of it will certainly wind up missing.

Finally, don't let police go through your bags. Ostensibly, this is a "narcotics" search, but in reality it is looking for more cash (to swipe), or in the worst-case scenario, the planting of narcotics in your bag, which is then results in threats of arrest and demands of payment (bribes) for you to go free.

Don't let this get you too freaked out.

First of all, these are commons schemes not only in Central Asia, but in much of Eastern Europe where I traveled last summer, and are frankly quite tame by virtually any international standard (I'm looking at you, Canada). I dare say anyone who has spent time traveling would laugh at this being the most nefarious threat.

Let it be known - after living in Bishkek for 3 weeks and frequenting several tourist hot spots, I've not experienced any of these annoyances.

Until Sunday. Apparently my "disguise," unintentional as it was, turned out to be a little too good.

Shockingly, my (first) run in was Not at the Osh Bazaar, but instead en route, as I was crossing through Ala-Too square, the epicenter of downtown Bishkek.

There I was, minding my own business, when Suddenly(!), a police officer signaled me over to his cruiser. I was, to be honest, surprised. One look at the officer (to my right), one look at the sidewalk straight ahead of me. Ignoring him and continuing on my way seemed viable, I could probably pretend I hadn't heard him, though the look had hurt those chances.

As I approached the car, I noticed there was another officer in the back seat, and a third sauntered up behind me to join them.

"Passport_" Hhonestly, not sure if this was followed by a "." or a "?"; the difference being more important than you might imagine.

Dammit. Sure, why not.

Hence proceeded a 10 minute episode of the absurd.

"Amerikanski?" "da."

After a quick passport parousal:

"Tejas?" "da."

The man in back looked through my passport over and over. The man in front tried to make small talk. It was generally polite, discussing how nice Bishkek is, etc. I kept looking around, impatiently until they found the business card for Parliamentary Vice-Speaker Isabekov (I snagged one on my visit to his office earlier and made a point of keeping it tucked into my passport).

I was hoping, smugly, this "ace" would resolve all my problems.

Not so, but it did seem to help a little.

"Isabekov friend?" "da."

There was a short pause, then my passport was handed back, and the police officers asked me if I wanted to buy them some cigarettes.

I declined, and proceeded on my way. No harm, no foul.

But it didn't bode well for later.

At the Osh bazaar, I made a point of keeping my eyes out for police officers. I managed to casually circumnavigate one officer, but was sighted by another as I paroused the impressive stalls of the spice merchants. The officer, and his assistant patrolman, approached me very politely.

"Hello, Hello. American?"

here we go again. - "Da."

"You are here with friends?"

"No, alone." (not the smartest solution. Alt= "No, my friend Bektash is somewhere.")

"Narcotics?" "Nyet."

Seriously. Why would an American be walking around in the most likely place in all of Kyrgyzstan to get searched while in possession of narcotics?

"tourist?"

"Da - tourist. Student."

Here I tried to play my Ace of Clubs - "Practicum (intern) with Radio Azattyk."

I had been told that police would not mess with Azattyk people. As an organization it is well known in Bishkek, generally aligned with the US, and not to be touched.

"Narcotics?" Like a Zombie Stallion, this was a dead horse they weren't going to quit beating (thank you, Colbert).

"Nyet."

"Please; you come with us to Police Station?"

Hm. tough call. I have no reason to go to the station, but how much more trouble am I going to go through by refusing? It's this kind of low level polite intimidation that I fell for.

"sure."

We had a nice talk on the way to the station (conveniently located within the Bazaar, but around no less than 3 corners. It was pretty isolated, but I felt a little more comfortable in that I never went through any doors (in other words, nothing locked me in).

At the station, they asked to see my passport. Sure.

Ace of Spades - "Isabekov?"

"Da" (no immediate effect - strike 2).

Then it was time to search my bag. Bummer.

I made a point of opening my bag one pocket at a time, taking out all the items (myself), and replacing all the items immediately back in the pocket they came from.

When they realized I didn't have any money in my bag (I don't carry more than small cash with me), they seemed less interested, but still insisted on me emptying my pockets. Bummer again.

Cell phone. House keys. Pen.

Reluctantly I pulled out my "wallet" - basically a plastic card holder with business cards in it. I slip cash into its fold, which can then be easily slipped out of the "wallet" when necessary.

"Azattyk" he asks again, seeing the card on top. "da." Maybe that ace wasn't a deuce afterall.

Then they proceeded to pat me down.

Not as much of a violation as you might imagine, but certainly annoying, and it did nothing to dispel the sense of authority. Being that I was wearing cargo pants, it took a little while.

They did find my cash (still in my pocket where I removed it before pulling out my wallet), and asked me to remove it.

I pulled it out one bill at a time and set it on the table in sequence, not in a stack. I wasn't playing this game very well, but James T. BumbleF*ck I am not.

"Ok, very good." It looked like I cleared this hurdle.

Then something surprising.

"Do you have any questions for me?"

Having just been physically searched, and I must admit feeling a bit intimidated despite the very low-key nature and abundant witnesses in the "station" (there were at least 6 people in the room). I was 95% sure they hadn't gotten anything of mine, so aside from another 10 minutes, and a sliver of privacy that honestly I wouldn't miss, I hadn't lost anything yet. The downside was, I wasn't thinking as clearly as I should have been. All I wanted was to leave.

"No, no questions. Can I go?"

"Yes, have a nice day."

I kid you not - "Have a nice day."

I was 20 yards away from the station when my brain kicked back into full gear. First thing I did was find a corner to re-count my money. all there. Then I did a quick inventory of my belongings in the bag - everything accounted for.

Then I thought of a question: "Can I take your picture?"

OPPORTUNITY MISSED! That would have been so Bold!

First, it would have given me a point of reference (I forgot to get the officers name/rank, another good way to limit casual abuses); Second it would have substantially reduced the likelihood of the officer getting testy, and finally, it would have been a great (very touristy) memento for this blog, among other things.

Plus it would have been Badass.

And I could have played it off along with either a) my Super-Touristic "I take pictures of everything" regalia, or b) my Azattyk "I'm a journalist" bluff.

So why did you just read an enormous post about a commonplace shakedown and the amazing thing I didn't do?

Because I accomplished 3 things on that Sunday, which are relevant to me personally, and hopefully of use/interest to the rest of you.

1) I finally went and saw the Osh Bazaar, a necessary tourist stop, but not really worth revisiting, regardless of police scrutiny.

2) Having been "through the process," I now feel considerably more confident in my ability to deal with it in the future. When the Isabekov card needs to be played, I will play it more forcefully. When that fails, I will use Azattyk more actively - "My Internship said to call their office before I go with any officer."

3) It put into perspective for me what intimidation is all about. I've lead a sheltered life. I've never faced repression, menace, or physical violence. I'm not one to confront authority openly - preferring to circumvent it in meaningless, petty, clansdesinely ways: I hoisted a "borrowed" french flag up the flag pole as a Senior prank in High School; I ran an underground satire newspaper in college; I registered as a Democrat but vote independently. Not exactly shaking the pillars of power.

Nor do I want to.

Many of my family and friends worry that I'm putting myself in danger by being in Bishkek, let alone discussing issues that are politically sensative.

I am, frankly, embarrassed by their concern. While I certainly appreciate where it comes from, I know only enough to say that I am far too cowardly to actually perpetrate the kind of actions that would attract hostile attention. Despite my principles and convictions, I have not - and will not - pursue them anywhere near the realm of that which could even possibly get me into trouble.

And the real journalists, especially the Central Asians in Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan - the people who do pursue information at great personal risk - can't possibly look upon my situation with anything less than derision. Not only am I doing nothing risky, I'm doing nothing risky under the umbrella of US citizenship.

So the "disguise" was really more of a mirror. I am just a tourist here in Bishkek, and I am susceptible to the same stupid tricks and intimidations as every other naive traveler.

On the other hand - let's check the scoreboard:

2 police inspections.

0 money lost.

0 bad experiences.

I guess that means I'm "winning" ?

Weber (on the lamb)

Tourista pt. 1 - "State" History

Having now been in Bishkek for more than 3 weeks, I thought it was about time for me to go and "see" some of the "sights." As a city without an ancient history, or a sizeable national budget, Bishkek is rather lacking in the above-named "sights," and those with an appeal to an English-language traveler are even fewer. As all the travel literature on Kyrgyzstan reiterates, this is a country for "eco-tourism."

subtext - not a very good place for standard, urban, photo&museum tourism.

But it has a few to recommend, and I certainly couldn't claim to have spent time in Bishkek without giving them a fair shake.

Stop #1 was the State Historical Museum. In addition to being housed in a magnificent edifice of Soviet archetecture, the interior is even more mind-blowing. While a 150 som ($4) admittance price is a little high by Kyrgyz standards, the additional 200 som ($5) "camera ticket" was more than I was willing to part with for the honor of Kyrgyz history. As a result, the description will be limited to textual - sorry, MTV generation.

The Museum is essentially 2 floors, one focusing on the Soviet revolution, and the other featuring archaeological information from within the currently-defined Kyrgyz state borders.

The interior is dimmly-lit, with only focus-lights highlighting some of the main exhibits. The top floor, and thus the most distant, is for "local" history, which interestingly only includes Pre-History, and one display about Ghengis Khan. This is probably the most telling detail of what this Museum is all about. It says, de facto, "the History of Kyrgyzstan includes only Primitives, Mongols, and Soviets." This is not a minority opinion, despite its ridiculous reductionism.

It's also informative that the Museum repeats the Soviet-era "ethnology" studies. One display was especially informative: It shows the evolution of humans from our ape-like ancestors to the modern specimens. While in true soviet-style, it does not list the Kyrgyz as less-evolved than their Russian counterparts, it does establish a rule of difference. The "Mongoloid" family is shown as branching off from the "European" (presumably including Slavs), about the same time as the "Negroids."

Thus there are 3 types of people in the world: Europeans, "Mongoloids" (of which the Kyrgyz & most other non-Russian soviets, qualify), and African/"Negroids."

The chart doesn't demonstrate that these three operate in a cultural heiarchy, but it is implied. The European is dressed in medieval costume, the "Mongoloid" as a traditional nomad, and the African is almost naked. It's not hard to draw the conclusion.

Interestingly, the floor displays found objects of considerably craftsmanship and beauty contemporary with many similar objects I've seen in the museums of Turkey, Britain, and even the American West. In fact, in 2007 archaeologists discovered well-preserved ruins of a massive urban city at the bottom of Kyrgyzstan's largest lake: Issyk Kul. Their findings are still preliminary, but they believe the metropolis, which matches the size of ancient Athens, may well have been its near-contemporary.

What does it say then, that a country which has a potential civilized legacy tantamount to Greece, has only a few arrow-heads, vases, and horse-bridles, to account for its thousands of years of pre-Soviet existence?

Only that the history is not important to the modern imagined identity.

The Soviet floor is by-far the more impressive, containing numerous (more than a dozen) more-than-life-size facades which narrate the story of the revolution and an illustrated guide (to fill in the gaps) painted onto its ceiling. From the intellectual curiosity of Marx & Engels to the arrival of Lenin and the various types of proletariats (steel workers, farmers, mothers, etc.) that rose up against their oppressors/aristocrats/nazis/reagan.

The facades, which dominate the majority of the walls, are uniformly a rough-sculpted copper(?) painted gold. While they are wall-mounted, some elements are in high relief, and some are even free-standing scultures placed or connected to the piece.

Not only are they amazing for their incredible collage-ness (the crowds, the implied actions, the WEALTH of symbolic items they're holding), but also their size. They're not real-sized, but they are close. Everything about them is just a little bigger, a little bolder, a little... better, than the rest of us. "These were the Men & Women of the Revolution - peasants and paupers who, through collective imagination and careful manipulation, have litterally become larger-than-life. They are the everyman that today's everyman can only admire. Their revolution could never be repeated, all we can do is meakly carry on their proud tradition."

Sprinkled between the giant (full-wall) freizes are collections of documents, letters, maps & photographs. If you read Russian, I'll bet it's actually a pretty good collection. Being unable to appreciate the content of the works, I focused on the context.

the photos - every single one a straight-on black/white mug-shot of a revolutionary leader or participant - were absolutely terrifying. They weren't meant to be so, and perhaps that's not how others saw them, but I found each one haunting. It was a mixed assortment - mostly Russian, but with healthy representation from other pre-Soviet ethnicities, whether Georgian, Ukranian, Central Asian or even non-Russian europeans. Some were clearly of blue-collar stock, the thick necks and weary eyes were a giveaway, while others had the thin jaws and square spectacles of an avowed leftist intellectual.

What kept creeping me out was what they all had in common - not that they fervently believed that Marxism/Socialism/Communism was the inevitable next step in social evolution, and not that, some 90 years later they're all dead, but that only with a few very rare exceptions did they die of natural causes. These Revolutionaries were destroyed - ideologically and mortally - by the Revolution they championed.

It's not a new story, or sadly, all that rare. If the French Revolution was the archetype, and it was certainly the origin of the term "revolution" as a break with, rather than continuation, of gradual social change, then the maxim about revolutions eating their children seems both true and horrifying.

Just to be clear, I'm talking about Revolutions. Not separatist movements (US Revolution, for example), reformations (Russian Revolution of 1905), or power-shuffles (Kyrgyz Revolution, 2005). A true Revolution, in which social factors within society convulse in a massive-scale rejection of the pre-existing social order and/or leadership.

With few exceptions, such revolutions (big 4: French, Soviet, Chinese, Iranian) have required a considerable amount of bloodshed & destruction. Perhaps in the end they achieve a better social contract; I'm not interested in arguing for or against Revolution as an instrument of change. But I am engrossed by its monstrosity.

Looking at the faces of Revolutionaries, in what may well have been their police arrest photos, did nothing to diminish the beast. It was odd, though - clearly the purpose of the Museum (more so at a former time, but lingering now) was to instill pride, or at least respect, for the sacrifices these people made. I found myself looking at them and asking, "is this really what you wanted?"

We all fool ourselves into thinking that we are the arbiters of our own fate. Despite religious beliefs that would logically require predestination, or historical/social familiarity that demonstrates time and again that individuals are prisoners of their context, we as humans insist on believing that we determine our own path.

And for the rare revolutionary, I think this was actually more true than for the rest of us. They did play a role in determining their own fate; it just didn't happen to be the fate they planned on.

I guess the most salient point from the Soviet floor was that I was embedded in materials that were latently propagandistic, but in the context of post-soviet Bishkek, and the known brutality of this still-celebrated revolution, I was left at a loss.

What is one to do when you help create a world built equally upon your high ideals, and the base cruelty you were willing to employ, and was ultimately self-consuming?

It's a question I would have liked to ask a few of the individuals pictured, though I doubt I would have had to courage to face their answers. On a social level, it's easier to think in the abstract.

Given the the US track record (from the genocide of indigenous North America to the extravagant destruction of Iraq), I think it's a question we need not only pose to once-proud Soviets.

Weber (on the lamb)

Weak End Review

Well friends, after a week of more text than you probably cared to even consider, the past 5 days have been... uneventful.

At least, they've been uneventful in the Weber World of Bishkek. The same cannot be said for Tehran, which if you haven't been following it on an hour-by-hour basis as I have, let me assure you is an important event you should at least be familiar with.

Interestingly, my lack of blogs have been tied intimately to my Iran news-hounding. I have been able to keep abreast of the Iran election situation through about a dozen news sites (NYTimes, CNN, EurasiaNet, RFE/RL, al-Jazeera, PressTV, UK Telegraph, UK Guardian, BBC, & NPR) only because I haven't had a single RFE assignment all week, and consequently don't have anything particularly interesting to write a blog about.

This week my intern co-ordinator was out of town working with some other visiting professors, and apparently forgot to give me any assignments before departing. Since she's the only person in Kyrgyzstan who is responsible for my internship, in her absence the rest of the staff has been very polite, generally busy, and had no suggestions for what I could be doing.

I am desperately hopeful that she will return to the office by Monday. If not, I may just get on a bus for Osh and spend the week as a tourist.

In fact, in the past 5 days I can point to exactly five items of interest, though at first glance none really seem worthy of even their own uncharacteristically-short blog post. They are presented here, in serial summation:

On wednesday I had dinner with a small cadre of other Americans in Bishkek - a fulbright scholar I met last week who's studying US-Russian relations in Kyrgyzstan while she hones her Russian and Kyrgyz, and some friends she invited along - another Fulbrighter (who's Russian is awesome) who is investigating perceptions of ethnicity in Central Asia (it's a big field), and an English language instructor trainer who's been in-country for several years.

It's a good crew, and I got along with them great. Very smart, very casual, and very interesting. We had a giant plate of Shashlyk (Kyrzy version of Shishkebab, but instead of veggies, the meat is separated by grilled gristle - which you are expected to eat... a post devoted to Kyrgyz Cuisine is long overdue...), and admittedly more vodka than was necessary.

How much vodka is ever, "necessary" you ask? Good question. I have no answer, but I'm sure that whatever amount it is, would be measured in grams, rather than "shots," as the glasses here are all a little less than double US-size.

Thursday the Kyrgyz Presidential election campaign officially opened. And nothing happened. A few opposition leaders were arrested, almost as an afterthought, and nothing else. No slogans, no posters, no demonstrations. Nothing. Tehran this is not.

Apparently, when the press refer to the lead candidates as "incumbent Bakiev and his strongest opponent, Atambaev," they leave out that even the "strongest" opponent has zero chance of victory. In fact, the pervading thought in Bishkek, when considering the Iran case, is how their government could have been so lazy as to let people think they had a choice in the first place.

Prof. Lincoln Mitchell said something interesting when I interviewed him last week. He said that the first 1-2 elections of a new state are a chance for Democracy to become more or less strong. But after a few more, say by election #5, the semi-democratic government in power has had enough time to consolidate its position and figure out how to control elections. The result is that elections, rather than becoming a tool of democracy, become a tool of the state - they are actively used to Prevent democracy by giving it a false-forum with a controlled outcome.

Interesting stuff.

Thursday night I watched the US futbol team get destroyed by Brazil - luckily I opted to go home and watch by myself rather than a bar, which would have been even more depresssing.

Friday I was invited out by the daughter of a co-worker and a friend of hers from the American University of Central Asia. I think it was part hospitality, part English practice. The fulbright Americans, who are here largely to improve their Russian, expressed their frustration with college-age Kyrgyz who insisted on speaking with them in English - as good practice - since in fact the Fullbrighters wanted to converse in Russian or Kygyz for the same reason.

I have no such reservations. Since I don't speak anything but English, and when traveling I am -oddly- very talkative, I'm quite happy to trade my services as an English talk-buddy for a little social time. If that social time involves German beer (and more Shashlyk), all the better.

Today (Saturday) I forced myself to do something worthwhile, so I did laundry and visited the "National Historical Museum" which is, honestly, pretty cool. I'll try to think it over a little more and get a post up in the next few days.

Wow - I guess it hasn't been that much of a lunar-landscape of a week. Sitting at an office desk with nothing to do but read news, facebook, and twiddle my thumbs for 8 hours every day made it seem pretty rough. I don't do "unbusy" very well.

Funny how last week, in the face of not-so-much to do, I wrote a ton, and this week - when I apparently do have a few things to write about - I wrote nothing.

What can I say - the Lamb is not a creature of habit.

Of course, the Holy Order of Nuns for Jesus would disagree.

Weber (on the lamb)

Football? Soccer? Futbol?

Last summer as I traveled around (mostly Eastern) Europe, the backdrop of the entire experience was the concurrent Euro Cup championship. I watched Greeks boo the Turks in Athens, Turks cheer the Turks in Istanbul, and a variety of nationalities (Sweden, France, Holland, Poland) patriotically shout their various anthems at the television in our shared flat in Estonia. I watched Russia lose in an Estonian bar, and the Germans get slaughtered in a Polish beer garden. Not only was football (hereafter referred to as "futbol" to avoid any confusion with the fully-padded American homonym) ever-present, it was also a good lot of fun.

I started my summer 2008 trip watching the Champion's League final between Manchester United & Chelsea, broadcast from Moscow. Apologies to Duff and Larissa for that tough loss, still felt the next year when Barcelona knocked off Chelsea in the semi-finals before destroying Mann-U (a game which, again, started my summer travels in 2009).

In short, my experiences outside the United States have thus far been seriously intertwined in futbol. It is surprising then, and a little depressing, that despite this international intimacy, I had yet to actually watch an international game live (there is one exception, for which I will be eternally greatful to my friend Sam Chapa, who took me to a Mexico league game when I was on spring break in Monterrey - a welcome home team defeat of the hated Jaguares).

Further emasculating me, in my own eyes if not necessarily those of my inquisitors, has been my absence of familiarity with the MLS. For those of you who don't know what the MLS is, don't worry, you're in the majority. While it was initiated with some fanfare many years ago - "Finally, a professional US Soccer League!" - and it does retain some notable players of both domestic and international pedigree, MLS is not in America was even Rugby or Crickett is overseas. In short, most Kyrgyz children know more about the LA Galaxy than I do - and that's one of about 3 teams I could even name.

Luckily, this horrid course of events was, if not reversed, at least temporarily suspended yesterday, when I finally attended my first live match. Sadly, it was not the sell-out England-Kazakh match (for which one English fan was shot even before the artful 4 goals were scored), but for a locally-important Asian Cup group C game between Kyrgyz national champs FC Dordoi-Dynamo and the Kanbawza FC of Myanmar.

Full match report here, for those of you Really That Interested.

In Kyrgyzstan, futbol is by far the most popular professional sport, but it's necessary to add that this small country of rather limited means does not compare especially well on the international circuit. When you're based in Central Asia, travel is prohibitively expensive, and the ability to lure all-stars from the dynamo-factories like Brazil, Spain, England, etc. is diminished by the lack of secondary benefits for moving to Bishkek. It's just not the Riviera.

As a result, the games outside the spring inter-Kyrgyz league, are somewhat rare, and victories all the more precious.

The brightest hope for optimistic Kyrgyz is Dordoi, a league team based in mountainous Naryn (pop. 52,000 and incidentally the home town of a co-worker). Dordoi has won the Kyrgyz league since 2004, and the Asia Federation President's Cup in '06 and '07, while playing in the finals in '05 and '08. Yesterday's match was an opening step toward an '09 AFC cup.

The only football stadium in Bishkek is Spartak stadium, and truthfully it may be the only (or at least one of the few) stadiums anywhere in the Kyrgyz republic. Certainly it is the home stadium for the non-Bishkek Dordoi. Total capacity: 23,000.

Those familiar with futbol stadiums, or professional sports in general, will note this is not especially large. Compare with UT's Darrel K. Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium and its 94,000 seats, for example.

Still, as with most things in Kyrgyzstan, it is cherished and well-used. The pitch on Sunday, for example, was a forum of closely-matched, well-played, second-tier futbol (apologies, but it's true - perhaps even generous).

One result of the difficult financial situation is that almost every player is an actual Kyrgyz citizen (meaning ethnic Kyrgyz, Russian, Uzbek or Kazakh living legally in Kyrgyzstan) - again, those familiar with league play elsewhere will find this more shocking than others. The lone exception is striker D. Tetteh, originally of Ghana.

The match itself was just at one would hope for. A few players with especially clever footwork, good overall team play, a few spectacular shots, and generally good defenses. The steam let out a bit in the second half, and things got a bit rowdier in the last ten minutes as players started getting desperate, but for the most part it was clean, smart ball.

I won't deny that a team like Chelsea, or lets be honest, even Tottenham, might have made the Dordoi look less suaze, but for my money they looked good - and more to the point, I was flabergasted at how I had ever played the same sport as these athletes.

And that's because I didn't.

I realized the answer to a question which, to that point, I had believed to be merely nonsensical. Several Kyrgyz, and many other Europeans, have queried me as to why Americans refer to the beautiful game as "Soccer." My answer, being technically uninformed, was to assume that "American Football" got the name first (even though it's a terrible name, the sport having virtually nothing to do with feet), and thus "Soccer" was the poor consolation prize by which Americans could easily write-off not paying attention to the most important sport on the planet.

It turns out that "soccer" is the later invention, itself an Englsih slang from the longer "association football," that emerged in the mid-1860s, and was meant to differentiate it from "Rugby Football" and "American Football."

Anyway, what I realized yesterday is that, as a youth and all the way through High School, I didn't play futbol: the game of precise ball control, dynamic team movement, and complex body coordination; I played soccer: an arena for a few skilled athletes to outmaneuver a force of irregulars (many off-season football/basketball players), even the best of whom would have what by any international standard would be considered no proper familiarity with the sport.

And mind you, I didn't even play soccer well.

This is no excuse for my performance. As one of two seniors on the JV squad, I can attest that I'm not an authority on the skills invovled, but what struck me yesterday was how natural, comfortable, and... fluid these players were with the sport in which they engaged.

It was like watching seals hunt.

(not necessarily as pictured - I couldn't help myself).

My soccer games were more like watching a pack of walruses mark territory.

So what?

American Soccer is not - generally speaking - up to international Futbol standards? No big surprise there.

But consider, those few of you who've stuck with me this long, the enormous, perhaps even unbridgable gap between doing a thing, and being a thing-doer. Or to allow those of prurient minds less to hold onto, playing Futbol vs. being a Footballer.

My father once spoke to me about the unsettling propensity of oil-and-gas attorneys (his chosen profession) in Oklahoma who could boast of extensive experience, but no appreciable expertise. To (mis)quote him (in)directly, "You can practice law for 20 years, but if your title opinions are incorrect, and no one ever questions them, how does that make you qualified to teach Law?"

So I'll stop talking about Soccer and Futbol both, being horribly unqualified to lecture (further) on either subject.

Point of fact, I'm not sure what area I could lay claim to any semblance of "expertise." Perhaps the composition of ridiculously long blogs?

Well, that's something, I guess.

Weber (on the lamb)

Columbia Conspiracy

In the past 2 days, I have conducted 2 interviews, attended 1 lecture, 1 court hearing, and spent 2 hours at a bar. In the process, I have met a total of 11 Americans, of which 5 are in some way affiliated with Columbia University.

That's just weird.

I'm still trying to determine if I'm meeting them because of a Columbia connection, or if it is indeed as coincidental as it seems. Certainly, there are some linkages, though there's also enough randomness and other affiliations to problematize the theory of CU magnetism.

For example, my two interviews (bios below) are both Columbia profs. They didn't come over to Bishkek as part of a Columbia-affiliated program, but certainly one of the reasons I knew they were in town, and thus setup the interview, was because of common Columbia contacts.

Further afield are the long-term non-locals. Americans (even Columbians) who are living in Bishkek, usually on short assignments. It's not rare for 20- and early 30-somethings to take 1 year jobs abroad, but again, the prevalence of Columbians in these positions in shocking. For example, I met 3 reporters and 2 research scholars, of which 2 were Columbia Alum. Add the (CU) international investment advisor, and it's quite a squad.

Apparently, Bishkek is a small world. You go to one or two newsworthy events, and suddenly you're bumping into the same people - at least, it's true for western journalists and scholars.

Better yet, the journalists I did meet are the very same people who's reports I've been reading manically in an attempt to get caught up on current events in Kyrgyzstan & Central Asia.

see especially: Eurasianet.org

Unfortunately, I'm barely making sense with this blog as it is, and I don't presently have any wonderful images with which to illustrate it (and it's 7 pm on a Friday and I'm fried), I'm going to leave it at this:

I'm meeting a lot of Columbia people. It's nice to know people I can relate to, but frankly it's getting a little creepy. Like, I almost don't want to admit that I got to Columbia, just to feel less cultish.

Still not sure if CU just happens to have a stronger focus on Central Asia than other institutions (this does happen, certain colleges are really strong in SE Asia, Congo, etc.), or again, if it's all a tired story of who you know knows.

Either way, I need to tone down the "lion pride."

Then again, they've all been excellent contacts, not just for my work this summer, but really for any future questions/research/work I do on C.A.

I've never considered myself to be very good at the game of making connections, so swapping business cards with this many good contacts in this short a period is sort of staggering.

Anyway, I promised to keep this one brief, so I'll log it and call it a day.

sorry it isn't funnier. Blame Canada.

Weber (on the lamb)

Journalism 101: the Bishkek Ho-Tep

After more than a week in which to "get settled," which has essentially meant move into a permanent apartment, get sunburned, write way too many blogs, and still not learn any functional Kyrgyz or Russian, I now finally have some actual assignments for my RFE/RL internship.

Specifically, I have three interviews coming up that deal with some of the more contentious international issues in Central Asia: Manas Air Base, the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO), "democracy promotion" in Post-Soviet states, and child labor in the cotton industry.

While these are all exciting issues for me to research further (having already some basic reference from my studies at Columbia), I want to emphasize for all my family and friends "back home" who have expressed concern, that I am neither dealing with people important enough, or revealing information sensative enough, to generate any difficulties or danger for myself while in Kyrgyzstan. Media freedom here is not, perhaps, what it is in America, but even the worst-case examples of repression involve local journalists doing intense expose's, usually on local politicians.

So in addition to my US citizenship and my Radio Azattyk ID badge, I have the added protection of speaking mostly with people of limited, if any, local importance or influence. As an English-language correspondent in Bishkek, these are probably going to be my standard fare for the summer. An odd trait that may not continue - 2 of my 3 current interviews are with Columbia-affiliated personnel. That's just weird.

Upcoming interviews include:

Dr. Alex Cooley

Prof. of Political Science

Barnard College (Columbia), New York

A specialist in such theoretical concepts as the structural forms of power in post-colonial and post-soviet governments, he has more recently focused on the specific policy of small US "Lily Pad" military bases rather than the conventional Cold War mega-bases, including the contentious Manas Air Base - the primary resupply depot for the US war in Afghanistan, and currently the only US military presence in Central Asia. He is currently working in Kyrgyzstan on a fellowship regarding the SCO and its growth as an alternative international affiliation to organizations like NATO, the EU, IMF, etc.

I will be asking him about Manas, the SCO, and US Relations in the region.

Dr. Lincoln Mitchell

Prof. of International Politics

School of International & Public Affairs (SIPA), Columbia, New York

In addition to being a professor, Dr. Mithcell is a regular contributor to the opinion section of the Huffington Post, where he comments on domestic US affairs. His professional leanings deal with "democracy promotion" in the Caucasus, former-Soviet states, and to some degree the Middle East. He was most engaged last summer, when his area of closest specialization, Georgia, became a flashpoint of international affairs. He wrote articles or made appearances on NPR, BBC, the New York Times, and many other formal and informal (blog) news organizations. He is currently working on a book about the many so-called "colored revolutions" in which non-violent popular protests lead to the initiation of democratic reform in many post-Soviet countries.

I will be speaking to him about the parallels of the Georgia-Kyrgyz situations, and more generally trying to clear up the divide between rhetoric and action on the issue of US foreign relations vis-a-vis "democracy promotion."

Senator Tom Harkin (D-Iowa)

Chair, Committee on Agriculture, Nutrition & Forestry

Member, Committee on Health, Education, Labor & Pensions

In addition to having the kind of ridiculous super-American personal backstory that you mostly find in Tom Clancy novels (see wiki), Sen. Harkin is currently proposing a Senate Resolution to formally call out Uzbekistan for its well-documented, but formally denied, wide-scale practice of using seasonal child labor to harvest its cotton crop. As the 3rd largest cotton producer in the world, Uzbek has a lot to lose by foregoing this cheap labor source, though pressure from some US retailers (most famously Wal-Mart, who boycotted Uzbek cotton for ethical reasons!) may be shifting this a little. It should also be noted, Harkin's voting record / political stance is rather impressively liberal (with a few exceptions). Check out this tool: Govtrack.us

I'll ask him about the practicality of asking an economically unstable country with a repressive authoritarian regime to reduce the profits of its only viable export industry, and the confusion of implementing "Rights of the Child" in a country that generally neglects all standard "Human Rights" conventions.

As you can see from the above, I'm fortunate to have interesting topics to research, and informed, intelligent people with which to discuss them. They should allow me to learn more about the particular topics, and to use that information to better inform international listeners about items of interest in Central Asia.

But I'm certainly not turning over any applecarts, or digging up any hidden audio tape. I'm discussing issues which are either academic, or US-internal, and thus not likely to stir up any consternation in Bishkek. I mean, if in response to a question on theories of democracy structure, someone accidentally confesses to a huge conspiracy of graft involving the upper echelons of the Kyrgyz government, I might have to run with that, but... I think that's about as likely as finding Elvis battling mummies in a small Texas nursing home.

Perhaps even less dangerous.

But just in case, I'll watch my back side.

Weber (on the lamb)

Neo-Con(crete) Palace

There is something very _____ about the new apartment I just moved into, and in which I will reside for the remainder of my time in Bishkek.

So very ______.

I'm just searching for what "_____" is.

By training I want to employ "ironic," but as I think Alanis Morisette has shown us, the improper application of this literary device just makes the speaker seem less intelligent.

It's like Rain on your wedding day? Isn't that just inconvenient? bad luck? At most an ill-omen?

Anyway, the point is that describing my new apartment involves several, not directly contradictory, but certainly unusually-allied, concepts. I will attempt to explain through photography, and barring success, will resort to textual communication of expressionistic dance.

The big point is that the interior is so radically different from what the exterior suggests. In a less crass way, the "curtains don't match the drapes." It's just any other concrete slab soviet-style apartment building, built into a quadrangle like basically any other soviet apartment building in Bishkek (or anywhere else that I've seen). The exterior is dirty, the concrete is chipping away, and the paint is peeling. Inside the front door, there is no lobby, just tired concrete stairs, a busted iron railing, and the kind of dimy-lit Soviet elevator that is more likely to take you to meet Maimon or on a bizarre Hogwarts field trip than to deposit you at your place of residence.

But somehow beneath this (rugged seems inadequately kind) exterior exists a small palace of comforts - past the wooden door with #21 on it, everything is remarkably... soft? The colors, the textures... it's all warm, friendly, not extravagant or luxurious per se, but... kind?

The apartment consists of a front hall (pictured at top) way which connects one bedroom, a living room, a kitch, and no less than two bathrooms (one for showering, one for the less-clean business). It is built into the center of a narrow building such that both sides (east and west) have windows, and my back-wall-mate is only accessible from a separate stairwell.

The living room is the centerpiece of the flat, and contains not only a beautiful mirrored hutch, but also a sofa and two matching plush chairs - covered in a loose, white faux-fur something. I'm not saying it rivals Buckingham on class or style, but it is comfy.

The entire West wall is windows, and the room even allows for a dining table + 6 chairs, with room to spare for a flatscreen TV (not pictured) in the corner. To reiterate: I have a flatscreen TV in my apartment. That has never been true before in my life.

Sure, it only gets Russian & Kyrgyz channels, but sometimes they just over-over-dub (leaving the English original beneath and shouting Russian louder), so I can still sort of follow-along.

The next room of note is the kitchen - and what a note! Easily 3x the size of my NYC kitchen, it practically rivals the great cooking station I had when living with Davey in San Anonio. Oven, stovetop, microwave, fridge, freezer. I've even got a waterpot. Better yet, it came fully equipped with eating ware, pots & pans, etc. It even has a dishwasher (though I was told it probably doesn't work, and I shouldn't experiment).

The breakfast nook is adorable, but isn't likely to do me much good. Breakfast is a chunk of cheese and some biscuits (my excuse for eating cookies for breakfast) on the way out the door. Then again, I do need someplace to sip my juice (I love juice - especially Cherry).

For the sake of argument, we'll proceed next to the Bedroom - oh yeah, where it all happens. Understand by "it" that I mean sleeping. Here's what's weird - I've been there 2 days now, and I'm still not 100% sure if the walls are actually tinted pink, or if it's just the reflection of those CRAZY PINK window shades that make it appear such. At first I assumed, no, of course they wouldn't go with a subtle pastel pink wall color, but now... I'm not so sure. The bed is very cozy (and large), and the room even comes equipped with its own (fabulous) dresser and armoir.

It's a silly thing to obsess over, but the ability to not live out of a suitcase/backpack is something I will take with no hesitation. I love to unpack the relatively small number of things I brought with me and just spread out. This became practically necessary on my first night there, but we'll get to that in a minute.

The final room is the bathroom, and while it doesn't seem like there's too much to mention here, it doesn't go without saying that I have abundant hot water, clear facilities, a sturdy tub, AND a washing machine. No, those are all special-bonus-extras, and I'm quite happy for them. One downside of the washing machine was Not learning how to operate it (it's one of the fancy modern ones, what my dad calls Semi-sentient, but the manual is only in Chinese, Russian & Korean), but more practical. I was in bad need of some laundry-time when I moved in, so I promptly stripped down (sorry for the visual) and threw basically everything I own into the washing machine.

Now I didn't have any soap, so this was already an exercise in near-futility, but even some cycles in a wet bath would have eased the encroaching odor.

It took a long time - some 2+ hours? - for the cycle to complete, and only about 1/2 that long for me to realize this wasn't a Genie wash-and-dry mechanism; it was wash only.

So it's 9 pm at night, the sun is down, and I'm (not quite) naked with a pile of wet clothes. It was at this moment that I was very thankful for three things.

1. A pair of pants I hadn't yet worn, thus not in need of washing.
2. Flip flops, alleviating the need for clean/dry socks.
3. The electric iron that (also!!!) came with the apartment.

I won't lie - there was no magical solution achieved that night, but in the time it took me to watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (in real Russian over-dub), and admittedly a little bit of The Rundown (in over-over-dub), I at least had clothes that were dry enough to proceed further on their own.

so now I'm all moved in, still stocking up the fridge and trying to get comfortable with the neighborhood. Not sure where the closest full grocery store is yet, and I still get lost by one or two streets on the way home. But "home" it is, in so far as I will have one during my stay in Bishkek: a generic grey concrete tower with a plush, expansive interior tucked inside.

I believe my first apartment was a good look at what "home" was like during the high-Soviet period of the 1960s-70s, and this new place may represent what the all-beautifying forces of capitalism can accomplish with such a place since the 1990s. I'm not sure. This could just be a better pad to begin with.

Time to get back home. My next adventure will be using the (non-self-lighting) gas stove.

Don't worry, I'll open a window. Tyler Durden will have to work much harder to send my (new) flaming shit out into the night. I don't even own condiments.

Then thousand spoons, and all I need is Life.

Weber (on the lamb)