Kyrgyzstan - In which I consider infrastructure and licking a silver cosmonaut

It is morning of day 4 in Bishkek and the former Soviet block. I flew in from Moscow on the single friendliest flight of my entire life, which was absolutely in alignment with what I’ve heard about Kyrgyzstan.

By contrast, my flight to Paris via Salt Lake was miserable, as was my flight out of Paris to Moscow. I would like to take a moment to propose that Parisians get the absolute worst of us all, and therefore are forgiven for their poor impressions of tourists. Every obnoxious American and, then subsequently, Russian stereotype were alive and well on those flights. I won’t break down the details, but there was a lot of drinking, a lot of shoving and a lot of entitlement complete with tiny yappy dog and rhinestone accessories. Blech.

But then I boarded my flight to Bishkek, the clouds parted, and my faith in humanity was restored. Loading carry-on luggage was a community effort, seating disputes were handled with flexibility and ease, the woman next to me wanted to be sure I wasn’t cold and the poor doe-eyed Canadian guy en route to Bishkek for a year-long teaching gig had an unofficial ambassador attached to him before the end of the flight.

I landed at sunrise and Bishkek is bordered by a fantastic mountain range, so, you know, that didn’t suck. Walked into the office on no sleep, immediately hopped in a car and drove to a Kyrgyz Kindergarten. Which was both totally adorbs and also probably the best way to be introduced to a new country.  

If you are an avid follower of my blog (Hi Mom) you’ll recall that I propose that the trophy for most adorable children in the world belongs to Zimbabwe. Unfortunately I must write to inform them that Kyrgyzstan might supplant them this year. It’s just, I mean, just look:

Unfortunately, I’m Allie, so I cannot be swept away by cherubic faces for too long before I start deconstructing socio-politics.

I would hazard to guess that 35% of the population of Bishkek are of very clear Russian heritage. They are white, blonde, thin, tall. Then the other 65% are mixed with west Asian/Kurdish. Kyrgyzstan was part of the Soviet Union, but it shares a border with China and not Russia. I am told the population is actually quite diverse: Kurds, Uyghurs, ethnic Kyrgyz, Kazaks, Russians... buuuuuuuut the language classrooms at the kindergarten seemed a tad homogenous. As in, supposedly all the children learn two languages, but all the white Russian descendants were in the Russian class, and not a one in the Kyrgyz language class. Russian is definitely the professional language here, so while we were walking around the school, I was declaring secret shenanigans.

This kid is also not amused by any shenanigans. We had a secret shenanigan bond.

 

 Also, if you wonder what a storage room full of USG food aid looks like - mystery solved!

 The last four days have been almost exclusively work, but occasionally one of the Soviet relics shows up and I can’t help but feel romantic and macabre. I blame Die Hard. Also Rocky, Indiana Jones, James Bond and any movie about a submarine. I grew up on the Russian Villain and the “oppressive nationalism of the failing Soviet Union.” I probably should blame the Cold War, but instead I place the blame squarely on Hollywood.

Regardless, there is an unnaturally silver cosmonaut right outside my hotel that I assume is Yuri Gagarin, although his plaque has been removed, and it elicits a unique emotional response.

My internal dialogue reads thusly:

 

“How unnaturally silver? Clearly you have been painted by some terrible soviet chemical compound that was invented without concern for the health and wellbeing of the proletariat.”

“I’ll bet you’d give me cancer if I licked you.” (Yes, I considered licking Yuri)

“How does it feel, stoic silver Yuri, to be yet another dilapidated bastion of this failed world order?”

“Did whoever commissioned this really buy what the Soviet Union was selling?”

But then I remember the Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, Statue of Liberty and the ridiculous number of Lewis and Clark memorials around the PNW and consider that, in reality, I’m lucky the US has enjoyed a single constitution thus far . . . and I’ve probably been just a wee bit brainwashed.

The Soviet infrastructure is insane though. And was truly built to last. For example, there is a complex urban irrigation system that runs water through open gutters to serve home gardens even in the informal housing areas. All the time. All through summer. Drinking it would probably kill you, (although I think this dog and her pups are) but it’ll grow a mean tomato. Seriously magical.

The unfortunate truth though is that infrastructure a la the Soviet-era is decaying with a quickness. This stuff was built to last, sure, but only until about 2009 which leaves an entire quarter of the world with a massive and acute issue to deal with.

There is also this super interesting exchange going on between my generation and everyone else at work. We conducted a training the last 3 days, and there were a handful of people in the room that did not grow up in the Soviet Union. They wanted to talk about LGBT issues, climate change, advanced tech-ed opportunities for young women and they can do it in English. It’s not that there is an overt friction between the age groups, but my contemporaries certainly had to cede the floor to the older caste. Favorite topics for that group included cultural implications of beard growth and the hesitation to prioritize women’s employment in rural areas because (I kid you not) they have enough to do at home and what would the men do?! Gasp.

I’m not trying to paint the picture of an old-order caste creating obstacles to progress, because that absolutely isn’t the case. But keep an eye on the former Soviet block in the next 5 – 10 years. There are a crap load of problems looming and an incredibly impressive group of young people that are going to get a shot at solving them. 

Queue cliché heroic montage before Hollywood show down with Soviet menace set to Eye of the Tiger.