The Curse of the Mare’s Milk
It’s a long haul from Bishkek to Osh so I’ve split it up into two legs. I found a shared taxi to Toktogol with a guy that didn’t seem out to rip me off, much to the dismay of the crowd of drivers who were. The best reason to do the Bishkek to Osh run in two days is to appreciate the amazing scenery, especially from the pass over the Tian Shan Mountains to Toktogol, a mix of steep rocky peaks and smooth green rolling hills. The wildflowers are in full bloom now and make the hills shimmer orange and yellow like an irridescent field of felt.
Our trusty Russian machina has seen better days. In Kyrgyzstan’s faltering economy the aging cars usually don’t start without a good shove from whoever’s standing around. We only broke down three times which is a lot better than other travelers I’ve spoken to.
The final descent into Toktogol is impressive, with bright green valley walls that plunge sharply down to the surging water of the Chychkan River which seems to me to be nonstop class 4 and 5 whitewater. Who knows how far the nearest boat is?
At the end of the valley we stop at the driver’s homestead and mom comes out with a big bucket of what is soon to become the culinary horror of the day: kymys (aka fermented mares milk). It’s really a shame that such a beautiful day and memorable scene will forever be tainted by this sour concoction, but it will. Here is am snapping a few photos of the valley and the herds of goat and sheep charging fearlessly down the hills when homeboy calls me over to mom.
Kymys looks good. I think it’s going to be fresh milk so I take a nice long gulp. What hits me is hard to describe. They say it’s fermented but when I leave milk out for three days at room temperature I call what happens “spoiling.” It’s sour and salty and just disgusting and then comes an aftertaste that doesn’t go away. For the next two hours I feel like I’ve fallen asleep with a piece of cheese in my mouth.
Toktogol is of no consequence. They say there are 70,000 people here but it feels sleepy to me. There might be 70,000 crows and garbage eating dogs between the two because at dusk the place is all caws and howling. Just before bed I crack my last beer and the mare’s milk taste comes back strong. Pretty soon I’m convinced that my shirt stinks of it too and I know the soap in the bathroom at the hotel has some kind of horse ingredients in it. I can’t escape it. It is the most overwhelming stuff on Earth and for the next two days I can’t get mare’s milk out of my brain.
Tags: Eurasia: Marco Polo-in' it, Kyrgyzstan
Administrator
I have eaten meat of ass in China.
However, I did not have drank the milk of ass.
Probably it will ferment.
Is it so bad? haha,