This is the fourth part of a five-part series under Coronavirus Travels. Bishkek
For all my previous complaints about how we were handled by authorities during the coronavirus paranoia, this one is on me. Kazakhstan reported its first case on 13 March, but I still went ahead to Bishkek on the 15th, knowing full well the chances of the border suddenly closing without advance notice to contain an outbreak. If you are wondering why I was so intent on going to Bishkek, it was because the last time we visited for an overnight layover, the only things I saw were the highway and airport. A friend egged me on by saying that if I did not go that weekend, I probably could not go again soon as border closure became more certain. Also, I met someone at the hostel back in Bishkek who offered to show me around, and I’m a sucker for local guides.
Sayran Bus Station
On Saturday morning I left for Sayran Bus Station in Almaty to take a marshrutka to Bishkek. Marshrutka is Russian for minibus, a form of public transportation which originated in the Soviet Union and is still prevalent in its former territories today. Under normal circumstances, I heard that foreigners were able to make this journey by themselves without much trouble with the language barrier. However these circumstances were unusual, and I was beyond grateful that I had my Kyrgyz roommate accompany me throughout the trip. People were rushing to return to their hometowns to continue online learning/ work from there, but stupid tourists like me were deliberately leaving for a holiday.
First off, when we reached Sayran, we were swarmed with drivers speaking in Russian, asking us to take their private cars instead of the marshrutka. I had read from other online blog posts to ignore them and proceed straight into the bus station, as private cars could cost twice or more than that of the marshrutka. However my roommate seemed to be convinced by one of them, and told me the driver said that the marshrutkas would not take us all the way to Western Bus Station in Bishkek, but only drop us off at the border. So we agreed to take his car, and waited for him to find two more passengers to fill up the car before we left. We paid 3000 tenge each (a tenth of my USD75 air ticket).
En route: Almaty - Bishkek
Usually the private cars and marshrutkas would go to the Kordai border crossing. But for whatever reason, coronavirus or something, this border was closed to foreigners like me. I liked how my roommate only suddenly remembered I was a foreigner when we were on the road, and told the driver to use another border crossing, called Chernaya Rechka. I do not know the present situation of the border crossings, it seems like a lot of this information is only known locally, and cannot even be found on Caravanistan. I was quietly panicking about my trip back, which would be by myself, and how I would tell them that I could not cross the usual Kordai border. Side note, I did not have a Kyrgyz SIM card, so no Google translate. Public Wi-fi in Bishkek is pretty rare too.
The car ride towards the border was probably one of the most anxiety-inducing trips I have experienced. Every inch forward I was deliberating if all this was even worth the trouble and my sanity. The road was congested and in quite poor condition too; the car was swerving potholes and bouncing on gravel. The driver dropped one of the passengers off at Kordai border, while the rest of us proceeded to the other one. On the way there he was making detours and driving slowly to look for florist shops to buy flowers for his wife. Perhaps under different circumstances I might have found it endearing but at that moment I was just eager for him to not prolong the journey.
Crossing the border
Then came the moment I had been dreading- the immigration. The passengers got off the car and walked to the immigration building, while the driver crossed it in his car. The centre was pretty crowded, and I stuck out like a sore thumb because it was obvious I was the only foreigner there. It was also filled with local middle-aged women who had no concept of queuing (which I was prepared for also from reading other blog posts), so just act like a local and stand your ground.
I got to the counter before my roommate, but left after she did. I completely expected this, I just didn’t think that it would take this long for the officer to stamp me out of the country. Usually the issue is entering a country, not leaving one. But what can I say, apart from coronavirus. In a way this was foreboding my entry into Kyrgyzstan later. I heard from my fellow countrymen that they had been held up at immigration even before coronavirus, as the Singaporean passport is quite rare so the officers take their time to flip and look through it.
Finally, I was stamped out of Kazakhstan; here came the real obstacle. We walked to the Kyrgyz immigration centre several meters down. If someone scanned my forehead then it might show that I had a temperature because I felt myself burning from the previous immigration troubles surfacing into memory. I got to the counter, and upon seeing my passport the officer asked me something in Russian. Of course I did not understand him, and my roommate queuing behind me started answering them for me, while standing a meter away. Eventually the questions just kept flowing and it was obvious I was never going to answer them, so he just asked her to come forward and directly asked her instead. She, being my roommate, knew everything about what I had done for the past three months, including my travel history of not having been to infected countries recently.
The officer didn’t seem convinced, so he told me to go to another counter, presumably with a higher-ranking officer, to make the decision of whether or not to admit me. It followed with another round of questioning with similar questions. He looked at me and asked if I spoke any Russian, to which I said no, and he just sighed. He then told my roommate that Singapore was on the list of countries which if someone had visited in the past 14 days, Kyrgyzstan would not admit, either at all or with some sort of quarantine condition. Once again, the argument of me not having been to Singapore since three months ago was treated with a pinch of salt, all that mattered to them was the nationality of the passport.
I do not know what convinced them to grant me entry. I think it was because I looked petrified. And maybe because they saw that Bishkek admitted me a mere six days ago. After they took a photo of every page of my passport, I was transferred to yet another counter.
The officer at this counter was hands down, the friendliest border personnel I have ever come across, period. He asked my roommate why I looked so scared. Well, I was. If they turned me around, my roommate leaves me for Kyrgyzstan and I would be stranded alone at this border crossing without any mode of transportation, miles away from any town and not being able to converse in Russian. He also asked my roommate to tell me that Kyrgyz people are nice. In an attempt to comfort me, he showed me the camera capture of me at the airport in Bishkek. He stamped me into Kyrgyzstan, and gave me and my roommate chocolates. I could cry just thinking about his kindness.
Moral of the story is, just be nice to people? It could mean the world to them at that moment, and I will remember him for as long as I live.
We were held up at immigration for a full hour. Our driver and the other passenger were waiting impatiently, the former nagging at us that the marshrutkas would have just left us there and driven off to Bishkek already. It was another 40 minute drive to the Western Bus Station in Bishkek, during which I made up my mind to take a plane back to Almaty the next day, as there was no chance of me navigating the marshrutkas and overland border crossings that locals use by myself. We reached the bus station, where I bid goodbye to my roommate and met up with my friend.
Things to do in Bishkek
If you came to this post wanting to find out about places to see in Bishkek, I could not apologise more because this section will only take up a tenth of the content. Coronavirus misadventures have, and always will, precede anything else, hurhur. There isn’t a lot to do in Bishkek. However, the city is small, well-kept and not very crowded, which makes for a laid-back weekend getaway.
The first stop was Panfilov Park, a small theme park with a Ferris Wheel and many other rides. Should be fun for kids I guess, I felt a little overaged there. Bishkek’s version of the White House, the presidential office building, was surprisingly close by. A skip away was Ala Too square, which had a statue of Manas, the national hero. The Epic of Manas, a poem recounting his fight against the Oirats, is the longest epic in the world.
Somewhere between Ala Too Square and Oak Park was an alley filled with artworks, which I still cannot find on Google. Most of them were oil paintings depicting the mountainous Kyrgyz countryside, plus a lot of horses. Art lovers further rejoice- next door at Oak Park is home to many open-air sculptures. For fans of Korean fried chicken, the restaurant chain Chicken Star, which originated in Bishkek, is a short walk away. I tried the branch in Almaty, ‘twas alright. But then again I am not the best judge of food.
Trying to get back
The moment I connected to Wi-fi at my accommodation, I went online to book the only airline and flight time left back to Almaty the next evening. Before the whole pandemic there were easily several airlines running flights at least five times a day from Bishkek-Almaty. To my relief the booking was successful. All there was left to do was hope that nothing happens to this flight, which amidst this period, could be a lot to ask for.
An hour later I received a text from my friend in Almaty that Kazakhstan was going into lockdown two days later. If I did not make the flight, I would be stranded outside of the country. Ahh when will I ever grow out of my risk-loving youth.
En route: Bishkek - Almaty
There was something very peculiar about taxis in Kyrgyzstan. Out of the three times I have taken them, all three were on the brink of an empty fuel tank. And all three of the drivers would ask for payment before arrival at the destination, and visit a petrol station midway to pump up. It seemed like a very precarious hand-to-mouth situation.
I reached the airport and waited nervously for check-in. Went through immigration in a breeze. The flight was only half filled, and I had been anxious about not getting a seat when I booked it the day before. Again, when we landed in Almaty, the people in Hazmat suits came up to take our temperatures before we could get off the plane. Once again, crossing immigration in Kazakhstan had never been a problem for me. I called for a Yandex (local version of Uber) back to my dorm, and messaged my friends for a celebratory drink.
Epilogue
I got back to Almaty at 9.30pm on Sunday night, and at 8.30am the next morning, Kazakhstan went into lockdown. I never got to see my roommate again, which was a possibility that both of us had in the back of our heads but never really expected to happen. The original end date of Kazakhstan’s lockdown was extended, but above all, in view of the pandemic, the Singapore government recalled all of its students who were at the time overseas for whatever school program, to come back home.
With that, the length of my exchange was cut short by a quarter, but I count myself lucky to be able to go on one at all. Our plans for Nur-Sultan, Uzbekistan, possibly Turkmenistan, the Caucasus region, and more were cancelled. However, I still would not have picked another semester for exchange because it would not have been the same crazy experience with a different group of people. And that folks, is all the cheese you can get out of me. In the next post, find out how I was in a limbo for 9 days trying to return home.
Hi! I am Joey, a University student from Singapore, attempting to show my appreciation for the world’s most powerful passport by literally milking its visa-free benefits one country at a time. I describe my travel budget as shoestring and travel style as audacious.
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