June 28, 2014
Do I really look that bad?: Drive on the right side of the road won't you please?
Hopes of an improvement in fortunes were dashed as my day started with a nasty incident on a steep climb. As I was going around a long right-hand curve a car came around the bend on the wrong side of the road straight towards me. There was a concrete barrier to my right and I had no escape route. Fortunately the car saw me and took the usual course of action one would expect of a Kyrgyz driver in this situation, and blared his horn at me full blast. From my experience that was the way Kyrgyz drivers reacted to every situation. Even if a child ran out in the road they would just beep their horns and not worry about the brake pedal. You think I'm exaggerating, but I actually saw this happen. In the present situation, presumably more by luck than skill, he also managed to avoid killing me by a few inches. I, with some justification I feel, instinctively let out a few expletives.
I guessed the driver must have heard me because his window was open, and because I saw him hit the brakes and come to a halt a little way down the hill before putting the car in reverse and heading back up towards me. I prepared for a confrontation. If this crazy driver was looking for a fight he was sure going to get one. The car was a sleek, black, expensive-looking one, but the driver was just a young guy in his early twenties, with expensive stylish clothes and presumably more money than sense. He pulled up to me and looked out of his window. He had an attractive girl giggling next to him, and another friend leaning forward from the backseat. If they were expecting a show they were about to get one.
I started by shaking the smirking driver's hand. I introduced myself. Then I told him, in a gentle, friendly, human voice that; "I have a family. I have a mother. I have a father." The smirk faded. I pushed home my advantage. "I am a human and I am alive. You could have killed me." The young driver now looked terribly sad. He looked up at me and said a soft and genuine "I'm sorry." I shook his hand again and said goodbye and watched him drive off much more slowly and on the right side of the road. And that ladies and gentlemen, is the way to tell them.
| Heart | 1 | Comment | 0 | Link |
I reached the sprawling town of Jalal-Abad and got quite lost but finally found my way out of town to the north in the direction of Kazarman. I essentially had two options with regards getting to Bishkek and the other involved the main road which I had seen quite enough of on the section between Osh and Jalal-Abad to know that I wanted nothing more to do with it. The Kazarman route would take me off on gravel roads through the mountains, a more scenic but more challenging alternative that I was all for. It was rather frustrating then, to find the road continued to be very busy for the first 20 kilometres of this route, until I reached another town.
Here the road split and, unsure of which direction to take, I stopped and asked a man who rather wonderfully spoke good English. During my long stay in Dushanbe I had taken the sensible liberty of learning a few Russian phrases, and this had greatly improved my roadside interactions since the horrors of Uzbekistan, but it was always a tremendous thing when I found someone who could speak English because it did mean that I was able to have a proper conversation.
He was a cinematographer working in Bishkek and told me that he had got married just two days earlier. Ana had told me that it was traditional in Kyrgyzstan for the mother of a man to kidnap whatever woman the man wanted to marry. I asked him if that still happened. "Traditionally yes. But these days, if it happens, the woman's family will usually go to the police." I resisted asking him whether the family of his wife needed to go to the police.
We went over to the nearby shop and the man bought me some water and an ice cream, which was nice because it was still hideously hot. Then the middle-aged man that owned the shop came out and gave me more water, bread and apples to take with me as a present. It really was very kind of them both. I crammed the things into my already overloaded bike. Then the shop owner, whose name was Alik, came out with a huge watermelon for me. 'Now where in hell does he think I'm going to put that?' was what I thought, although "Thank you very much!" was what I said. The only thing to do was to eat as much of it as possible so I asked Alik to find a knife and we shared half the watermelon out.
Alik, who couldn't speak English of course, said something to my new friend to translate, which he did: "Alik would like to give you some money to go to the banya and take a shower, and to go the barber for a haircut, and for a shave." Hmm... a more sensitive man than myself might have been offended at this point. "No, really I'm okay, please thank Alik, but I like being sweaty and smelly and hairy," I said, and Alik disappeared back into his shop.
A few minutes later he came back outside with yet another big bag of gifts for me. I took it from him and looked inside where I found some soap, two disposable razors, toilet paper and a big box of cotton buds (what the hell, had he been looking in my ears too?!) A more senistive man than myself might have been offended at this point, but I took it all in good cheer and laughed at the sight of it all. Seeing my smile Alik snatched back the bag and disappeared back inside the shop, returning it to me a short while later with the addition of a toothbrush and some 'gentle-whitening toothpaste.' 'Bloody hell Alik, my teeth aren't that bad!'
| Heart | 2 | Comment | 0 | Link |
Beyond this town the road thankfully became much quieter traffic-wise, but yet another kid threw a stone at me. In four years of touring prior to Kyrgyzstan I had only had stones thrown at me twice, (in the equally impoverished locations of Guatemala and Gateshead,) but here it had happened four times in as many days. Again I stopped and looked at him menacingly and again he ran away across a field. This time I pointed him out to an elder woman who was nearby and she looked at him and nodded in a way that suggested that she knew exactly who he was and that he was going to be severely reprimanded later. I love being a grass!
Today's ride: 76 km (47 miles)
Total: 21,641 km (13,439 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 4 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |