Das Süße am Leben

       Wenn man es sich vornehmen würde, mal rein hypothetisch gesehen, verschiedene Kulturen durch ihre Süßigkeiten zu analysieren, könnte man schon zu einigen interessanten Ergebnissen kommen. Amerikanische Chocolate Bars, sind, zum Beispiel, oft übertrieben süß und zuckerig. Deutsche Schokolade ist fein und schmackhaft, die Torten fest und füllend. Französisches Gebäck, dagegen, ist sehr leicht und oft inhaltsarm, der Eleganz nachstrebend; griechische Baklava ist außerordentlich kompliziert und trieft von Honig; unserer kanadische Ahornsirup wurde von den Indianern übernommen und hat sich seither als äußerst nützliches Mittel eingebürgert, Touristen in Souvenirladen das Geld aus der Tasche zu ziehen. Was es hier in Kirgisien an Süßigkeiten zu kaufen gibt, heute mal auf vorverpackte Schokoladen und Riegel begrenzt, sagt bestimmt auch etwas aus, aber die Psychoanalyse überlasse ich gerne anderen. Was mich wirklich interessiert ist die Schokolade selbst, und davon gibt es hier mehr als genug.

Das Alpen Gold. Vielleicht nicht ganz
echte schweitzrische Schokolade, aber
ganz annehmbar.
Photo credit: Robert Henschel

       Eine Marke die man hier überall sieht ist Alpen Gold, eine deutsche Schokolade die allerdings Kraft Foods gehört. In Geschmack und Qualität ist diese Schokolade durchaus der gewohnten deutschen Schokolade zu vergleichen, obwohl sie manchmal meinem Geschmack nach etwas zu süßlich wirkt. Übertriebene Süßlichkeit kann man auch den zahlreichen amerikanischen Schokoladen vorwerfen, die es hier haufenweise (und zu ganz günstigen Preisen) gibt. Es finden sich hier manche amerikanische Marken, die ich in Kanada noch nie gesehen habe!                                          

Победа вкуса. Eine der weitaus besseren
der hier erhältlichen Schokoladen.
Photo credit: Robert Henschel

     
       Die russischen Schokoladen, hingegen, kann man des ausschweifenden Gebrauches von Zucker nicht anklagen. Eine russische Schokolade, Marke Россия (Rossia), mit nur 52% Kakaoinhalt, war so bitter, dass sie beinahe ungenießbar war. Diese Enttäuschung wurde aber durch eine andere russische Marke, Победа вкуса (Pobeda Vkusa), ausgeglichen. Sie stellt eine dunkle Schokolade mit 72% Kakaoinhalt her an der wirklich nichts auszusetzen ist. Und, wie gesagt, billig: eine Tafel 30 bis 40 som, oder um die 70 kanadische Zent.
       Eines der weitaus besten Funde im Bereich Süßigkeiten ist Той Талкан (Toi Talkan). Diese Riegel sind gesund, sehr billig (17 som, ungefähr $0.36), und schmecken ausgezeichnet. Talkan bezieht sich im Kirgisischen auf Mehl, welches, der Tradition entsprechend, aus Weizen, Gerste oder Mais gemahlen wird. Sonstige Zutaten sind nur Honig, Erdnüsse und etwas Sirup. Wenn ich nach Hause komme, nehme ich ganz bestimmt hiervon was mit.

Zwei der vier Sorten Той Талкан, oder
Toi Talkan. Eine wunderbare Einrichtung.
Photo credit: Robert Henschel

       Letztlich noch eine Art Schokoriegel, diese aus Russland: Гематоген (Hematogen). Diese Riegel, entweder schokoladenüberzogen mit Kokos, Nüssen oder Apfelsinenextrakt, oder ohne Schokolade mit Honig versüßt, bestehen eigentlich hauptsächlich aus verarbeitetem Kuhblut. Diese Schokoladen sollen alles mögliche können, hauptsächlich indem sie dem Körper Eisen und Vitamine A zuführt. Zuviel davon will man vielleicht nicht essen, aber es schmeckt ganz gut und ist im Preis mit dem Toi Talkan zu vergleichen, da beide Produkte hiesig sind: Hematogen aus Russland, Toi Talkan hier aus Kirgisien.
       Andere Sorten Süßigkeiten, besonders Gebäck (hiesiges, russisches, türkisches) gibt es hier in rauhen Mengen; das wird bestimmt noch ein Artikel. Natürlich sieht man sich genötigt, auch noch für den Artikel viel  zu recherchieren...

Getting Around in the City

       Last week's topic was walking in the city, and for the first few days, that was enough. In a city of 900,000, however, walking won't take you too far. To really get around within Bishkek, there are four options: an own car, bus, taxi, or marshrutka. As I have neither means nor need for a car, the first option is out. Buses seem to be unreliable, and run only certain routes; for the large part, then, also out. Taxis are plentiful but expensive, ranging from 100 som (for a few block's trip) to 300 som (to drive across the city). Although that only comes to 2 - 6 CAD, 300 som will buy you supper for a week if you're not too picky, so it's still quite pricey, especially when compared to the final option: marshrutki. 

A marshrutka driving along Sovietskaya. Anyone
wishing to get on needs only to hold out their arm.
Photo credit: Robert Henschel

       The term маршрутка (English: marshrutka; German: Marschrutka) comes from the German word Marschroute (lit. "marching route"), which can translate simply to "route" or, in military terms, "line of approach" (dict.leo.org). Name aside, no one marches. In fact, it's actually quite comfortable: a modified minivan with a dozen or so plushy, high-backed seats. The roof is high enough for passengers up to 6' to travel comfortably standing up, and, as you often do end up standing, that's important. The question of why anyone would be willing to lurch across the city in stop-and-go traffic while standing up is simply answered: money. The fare is virtually unbeatable: for a fixed rate of 10 som (or, between 9 pm and midnight, 12 som) you can get from one end of the city to the other in about 30 minutes. That's 20 cents a ride! By comparison, a cross-city tour in a taxi will cost 30 times that, at 300 som ($6) and take maybe 5 minutes less. The routes the marshrutki take are indicated by signs in the window, listing landmarks the marshrutka will pass by. I, for example, live near the Vefa Centre, a mall on the intersection of Soviestkaya and Gorki. As a result, when I'm trying to get home, I stand along the roadside and wait for a marshrutka with the letters ВЕФА (VEFA) in the window to pass by. As it pulls alongside, I hold out my arm to indicate that I would like to get on, do so when it stops and, if I have the money ready, drop it in the driver's hand on my way in. If not, I sit down (or, if the seats are all full, stand as far back as possible), count out my fare and pass it to the driver by way of the people standing or sitting in front of me. If there is any change to be given, the same people will take it from the driver to pass back to me. When I want to get off, I make my way to the door and, as soon as the marshrutka stops (e.g. at a red light), I jump out and make my way to the sidewalk. As marshrutki tend to drive on the far right of the road anyways, passengers can be picked up and dropped off at almost any point along the route. This gives marshrutki a huge advantage over buses, since they are bound only to route, and not to specific stops.

A close-up of this particular marshrutka's
route. The first stop, ВЕФА (VEFA), is mine.
Photo credit: Robert Henschel

       I deliberately stated that the marshrutki drive on the right of the road (rather than in the right lane) as lanes simply do not exist here. On larger roads, there might be a line dividing opposing traffic, but even that is not a given. Here, there is a road that is, say, 50' wide, and you can drive wherever you want along these 50' as long as there isn't a car (driving or parked) in the way. Practically speaking, this means that what would be a four land road, 2 lanes in each direction, in Canada, will usually be just that here as well. But if someone stops along the side somewhere, whether it's a taxi or marshrutka or someone dropping Grandma off at the market, traffic will shift to get around these obstacles, often at full speed and with only inches to spare, and that four-lane road will briefly become a five-lane one. Twenty feet down the road, a bystander would again only see four lanes. Alternatively, if there is not much opposing traffic, you might, on the same four-lane road, see cars heading in one direction three abreast, trying to pass the slowpoke, while what there is of traffic heading the other direction makes do with the space of only one lane for a bit. What the laws regarding road-space actually are I don't know, but the principle behind the local driving habits is this: the road is there, and if there's no one else currently occupying a given space on it, I might as well be using it.

       One point I already touched on last week concerns marshrutki etiquette. It's also the reason I usually end up standing, in spite of all those nice, comfortably-padded seats: the (extremely strict) seating hierarchy. First come pregnant women and the elderly, then mothers with young children. As soon as they open the door, the front seats are cleared for them, and that in a completely matter-of-fact way. The unemotional, impersonal detachment of normal interpersonal relations remains, no particular eye contact is made. You simply get up and stand, and that's it. Next come the middle-aged. The women are guaranteed a seat (unless, I suppose, the local seniors home, should one exist, were to make an outing) and the men will usually get one, depending on how many younger people there are. Next in rank are young women, whose rank seems to occupy a fuzzy area between that of middle-aged men and young ones. For example, I've seen young women give up their seat to middle-aged men, but never the other way around. On the other hand, young men seem to give up their seats to young ladies and middle-aged men around 80 percent of the time, but no one ever gives up his or her seat to a young man. So I often end up standing. It's a good forearm and shoulder workout.

       While I don't mind standing in and of itself, it makes it impossible to look out the window, and so, especially if you're not familiar with the route, it's easy to miss a stop. I once, as a result of missing stops, ended up in a village (I think it was Novapavlovka) and another time at the Dordoy market, which I hadn't yet gone to since it was too far away. The market was a pleasant surprise, far fewer police than at the Osh market (I´ll cover markets some other time), but the village roads were terrible. If you think that Edmonton's roads are bad, you would have few words to describe these; even weaving around the deepest holes, the van bounced so much that I repeatedly almost bounced out of my seat. They don't believe in gravel roads here; it's either asphalt or dust, and there doesn't seem to be anyone in charge of maintaining the dirt roads. And if no one is specifically put in charge, it won´t happen. But again, that's a topic for itself. That said, the paved roads here are generally in better condition than Edmonton's, but certain side roads have holes 6 or 7 inches deep. Sure, we claim we've got those in Edmonton too, but these holes cover the entire width of the road. So there. 

Walking in the City

       Bishkek, the capital of the Kyrgyz Republic, is located far in the north of Kyrgyzstan, near the border with Kazakhstan. Covering 170 square kilometres  it has a total population of around 875.000, and houses both national and regional governments. It is also home to a number of educational institutions, primarily universities and private language schools (concentrating on English, Russian, and Kyrgyz); I am studying Russian at The London School in Bishkek for four months. 
       In the week that I've been here now, I have walked a lot and discovered that in many ways, Bishkek is not so different from any other large city. There are stores and shopping centres and houses and apartment buildings. There are cars and buses and taxis on the road, and cars parked along the roadside. There are plenty of pedestrians, some in a rush, others out for a stroll, and yet others just passing the time with their friends. However, there certainly are differences between Edmonton and Bishkek.

Photo credit: Robert Henschel

Common sight: sidewalk along 

Sovietskaya, one of Bishkek's main roads.

       One of the first I noticed, unlikely as it might be, was the sidewalk. Coming from Edmonton and having travelled a bit in Europe, I know that the sidewalk can sometimes be broken or uneven. If it is broken, and sticks up an inch or two, there is a good chance that someone will spraypaint the edge, or the city will put up a little flag alongside. In Bishkek, anything over a foot gets a little ramp to help carts and the elderly over, and the rest is cemented together as well as possible or simply ignored. The sidewalk's height may vary significantly from house to house, such as in the picture on the right. You need to start watching your feet, or risk falling on your face or twisting your ankle. Or both.
       This mentality of watching your own feet and ignoring problems or anything not directly related to yourself seemingly extends to almost all areas of life. It would be very strange here to start a conversation with a stranger for any reason but to ask them for money. 
       That said, people in general are friendly and helpful. On my first day here, I bought a cell phone, a SIM card, and some time for the same, all without any English. Although my Russian is limited, the shopkeepers were helpful and fairly patient. 
       These two traits, of keeping to oneself while being friendly and helpful might seem paradoxical, but I quickly realized they are not. The rules are just a bit different: you don't smile too much or try to start up a conversation with a stranger, and you certainly do not ask that nice police officer for the time or directions.
       However, there is a deep respect here as well: without fail, someone will immediately offer an older person (or anyone young a woman past 40) their seat on a bus; pedestrian traffic, no matter how much in a hurry, will part for an elderly man or woman (often accompanied and supported by a grandchild); and no one will honk at the grandma slowly crossing the road. Mind you, drivers will swerve around behind her with less than a foot to spare, but that's simply how you drive here, and neither driver nor babushka give it a second thought. In the end, as the Russian expression goes, люди как люди. People are people, wherever you go.