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.
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.
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.
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Photo credit: Robert Henschel
Common sight: sidewalk along
Sovietskaya, one of Bishkek's main roads.
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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.
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