The Purple Culture Guide to Kyrgyzstan

Chapter 1: First Impressions

You land in Bishkek and the first thing that hits you is not what you expected. It's not the mountains, though they are there, huge and close enough to seem like they're about to roll over the city itself. It's not the architecture, which is a strange mix of Soviet-era apartment blocks, glassy new shopping centers, and buildings that look like they're held together by habit. No, the first thing that hits you is the sense that you have arrived in a place that doesn't care much about your expectations. It has its own rhythm, and it assumes you'll pick it up eventually.

The airport is small. Not charming-small, just small. You walk across the tarmac, and inside, the immigration officials are bureaucratic but not hostile. The queue moves slowly, but no one seems particularly stressed about it. You collect your bags and step outside, and the first thing you notice is that it's quieter than you expected. Even in the capital city of nearly a million people, there's a calmness that feels almost unnerving to someone who's just come from a Western airport. Cars honk, but not aggressively. People walk slowly. The air smells like dust and diesel and, if it's spring or autumn, burnt leaves. You get in a taxi, one of the many old Mercedes and Priuses that seem to have been imported from a different decade, and you drive into town past rows of poplar trees, and you think: okay. This is