KOSH-AGACH

Now it’s barely 2C outside, puddles are frozen. Our hotel rather reminds an anthill: the walls are cardboard pieces knocked together and we hear just every sound in the neighbors’ room: coins jingling, water flushing, dishes clattering, TV broadcaster speaking, and Sergey’s wife non-stop nagging. Sergey is the hotel owner and one of the most respected businessmen in the town: one day he divided a wooden house into twelve rooms and it’s seldom when it’s empty since no other hotel is available in this town which is the transit on the way to Mongolia. In the future projects Sergey pictures sauna and swimming pool in the yard and he hopes he won’t be disturbed by an earthquake like it has already happened before. Until 2PM we sit at the only internet place available and send the information. Places where one gets something to eat here, in “Dowson”, how we call Kosh-Agach from now on, are called “stolovaya” (canteen) and it’s not quite a large choice there since most of the dishes are always the same: plov, lagman, goulash and belyashi (greasy meat pies boiled in oil). In the afternoon, on our way back to the hotel, we meet two Swedish bikers waiting for their mates with eleven more engines. They are on their way from South Korea to Scandinavia through Siberia and Mongolia. Funny guys, one of them is frequentative world champion in speedway. We spend the entire evening with them discussing common themes.