My first day in Bishkek

On my first day in Bishkek yesterday, my friend Sher took me around the city, which was very generous of her. I am starting to get to know some of the streets in the city centre. The city is much as I expected – grey and tired-looking, with most of its buildings in various states of disrepair, except for the new apartment blocks that expats can rent for US $1000/month. Cars and marshrutkas (little vans that are a main form of public transport here) whizz by; the intersections are crazy; and I am not planning on getting a bicycle! (I admired the couple of intrepid riders whom I saw – I am convinced that they're risking their lives.) One similarity to Melbourne city is that almost ev eryone is wearing black. This, in combination with sludgy, icy grey streets and shabby grey buildings is a rather depressing sight and I am thankful that I brought colourful scarves!

While the city itself is not an aesthete's delight, the Tien Shan mountains form a magnificent backdrop to it. Flying over them on my way from Tashkent to here at the break of dawn was a breathtaking experience. Apparently it's been a mild winter, so it hasn't been too cold. The main adjustment I've had to make so far to the weather is purchasing a pair of local boots that can handle the ice and sludge on the footpaths without slipping. There is more ice and sludge than footpath, so this is very important. If you had seen me treading carefully along the footpaths (while Sher, in her local boots, strolled gaily alongside), you would understand why I feel I have had a foretaste of what it might be like to be old, and to have someone take your arm to support you as you walk, because otherwise the possibility of falling is very real. Suffice it to say that until I got my boots, I actively sought out puddles and mud on the footpaths, because this was preferable to the ice! We stopped in several shoe shops but had trouble finding boots that were not either hideous (would you like some boot with your diamontes and fur?), ridiculously high-heeled or too small (my feet are a size 9, or a size 40, which is bigger than most women here).

Clearly, though, a pair of boots for me was meant to be, because at Osh Bazaar (huge, clamorous, sludgy, Vic Market-like, except for the raw chicken sitting in cardboard boxes – unrefrigerated, unpackaged, uncovered), we found a stall with a pair of size 40 boots hanging on the rack. The boots have shoelaces and a zip (which enables one to leave the laces permanently tied), comfy furry stuff on the inside, and soft rubber soles. The stall holder demonstrated the quality of the boots to us by bending a boot in two to demonstrate that the sole was really soft rubber (anything else will slip) and by using his cigarette lighter to attempt to set fire to the boot. I later discovered that this was to prove that the boots were real leather, as vinyl would have caught fire. (I was wondering at the time what circumstances would necessitate my having fire-proof boots, but now I know how to test for genuine leather.) We (read: Sher, who is fluent in Russian) also managed to haggle him down from 1400 som (about A$56) to 1000 som (about A$40). And I was henceforth able to walk relatively normally!

Sher and I also took a trolley bus yesterday, which run along lines like trams. Trolley buses cost 5 som no matter how far you travel and marshrutkas cost 8som. Not only are trolley buses cheaper, they are also bigger and hence less crowded. The marshrutka Sher and I caught was what I would call crowded, but I was informed that in fact marshrutkas were never full – no matter how many people were wedged into each other's necks inside, a marshrutka driver would always stop to pick up more passengers. You need to watch out for pickpockets especially on marshrutkas, understandably.

I also tried some local food – lak man, a noodle dish – which I enjoyed. I discovered that chai here just means normal black tea, not the milky, sweet drink that I expected. I'm really enjoying being in a city where I'm in the minority and am powerless – this is probably some psychological freak that results from having been an Arts student who is brainwashed to resist hegemony and to challenge existing power structures, etc. But I'm enjoying the humility that comes from being the newbie, the one who doesn't speak the language and who doesn't understand – it has already given me a greater respect for the foreign students who go to Australia to study. People have treated me kindly even though I look stupid and baffled all the time (a natural result of being, in fact, totally unaware of what is being said or asked); I wonder if ESL speakers in Melbourne get the same kind treatment? I'm looking forward to starting to learn Russian – so far I can say an informal hello, goodbye, yes, no, thank you and sorry. Sorry is an important one, as I seem to keep walking into or bumping into people on the street – the current problem is that by the time I remember how to say it and get the word out, aforementioned bumped into person has obliviously walked on. Oh well. I'll get there! Day One verdict: Bishkek definitely seems livable and I'm looking forward to learning and discovering more.

p.s. More pictures are coming. I know it's a bit sad to just have text. Haven't had time to upload photos to my laptop yet. =)