Kyzyl-Tuu, Kyrgyzstan, on Tuesday, October 14, 2014.
Home-cooked meal: a stew of mutton, potatoes, veg and barley.
Our homestay for the night is the flowery home of Rüstyp, his wife Gula, and three kids. Rüstyp, who speaks English, is tending to the little farm they have: fruit trees, chickens, and some cattle. A Russian infomercial for a hand blender is on TV when I arrive.
Host mom Gula welcomes us with chai and snacks. There is a sugary treat similar to polvoron in Latin American/Filipino culture. “Kyrgyz Snickers,” she jokes.
Horses gotta eat too.
Rustom’s niece Amira wakes up and wonders what to do with herself while the other kids haven’t woken yet.
Breakfast with the Abdekaparulus. Not shown: the four kids of the house, running around, yelling and screaming while playing, as kids do. Host mom Gula shakes her head and tells me something. I can tell by her body language, she is jokingly telling me, “Take these kids to America!” (Rustom confirms this.)
“Chong rakmat,” I say to host Rustom, thanking him in Kyrgyz.
“You’re welcome,” he answers.
Baha and I mount our horses and leave as Rustom gives us two thumbs up.
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