Discomfort and digestive issues, all part of the adventure and recounted for your entertainment. Enjoy…
Cramming myself into the cramped furnace of a marshrutka (beefy minibus), my obnoxiously heavy backpack lay slovenly across my lap like an ungrateful child. The bargain price for the journey west was at least a comfort of sorts. As my leg extended into the ever narrowing, limb-claiming aisle I chanced a prim smile of ‘I’m genuinely very sorry that my presence is making you uncomfortable, no - I’m not being sarcastic’ to the equally apologetic face on my left. All attempts not to longingly pine after a meagre crack in the window three rows ahead of me were rendered entirely fruitless by my gluttony for comfort. The roaring heat outside was just as angry as inside the vehicle but at least it would have offered some respite from the aroma of body odour and lethargy. I couldn’t blame anybody though, this was the height of Central Asian summer after all. I allowed myself a moment to gather my thoughts and look meditative to anyone onlooking in our shared impatience… It’ll be around sunset when we arrive and I haven’t a clue where I’m staying, I don’t speak the language and hunger is approaching like a banshee in the night… I was going to have to recoup some valuable energy and await patient and resourceful Liv to greet me at the end of the drive.
Once the driver had completed his meticulous roadside faffing routine we were on the move from Karakol to Bokonbaevo. Our journey west would snake around the southern shore of the tauntingly chilled waters of Issyk Kul. Once we had picked up some decent speed a true treat of a cooling breeze wafted through the length of the minivan and into my desperate face, in those moments all was forgiven. The road was far too bumpy to allow any diary scribbling so I instead indulged in travel talk with my companion for the next few days. The rest of the drive passed by without drama, uncharacteristic of the Silk Road of you ask me, so I let myself simply marvel at the mood swinging landscapes. Grassy plains morphed into dry terracotta crags then rugged mountain foothills, back to the desert scape before yet more glorious rolling greens. The regions encompassing southeastern Kazakhstan and northeastern Kyrgyzstan are truly a smorgasbord to be feasted on - which is fortunate as when we stopped to pick up yet more people I reminded myself of that bargain price and let the scenery hypnotise me further.
To my relief, patient and resourceful Liv had received the memo and was ready to take the reigns over from frazzled, cranky Liv as we rolled into town although it wouldn’t have been to any consequence if she hadn’t. Mercifully instead of traipsing the streets for a hostel the guest house my new friend was pitching their tent in had a spare room and chilled glass of apple juice awaiting me. Smiling and chatting with the local family who took me in was just the tonic I needed, I even let myself forget I'm not a fan of apple juice. Before heading off to find dinner I embarked on a sunset wander of the new locale I found myself in. The dusty streets marked the border of the edge of town and the final frontier before the mountains. Their Pamir-esque peaks were smattered with a glow of low evening sunshine, I wanted what they were having. By this time I started to realise that despite the peace I wasn't alone on my walk. About twenty of the local children had started gathering around me eager to practice their English with adorable enthusiasm. The clan of us wandered as a pack as I answered their questions, mostly to do with my lack of a husband - everyone will ask this in Kyrgyzstan, even children! I spared them the long story of how I accidentally got married just a couple of weeks before but you, being an esteemed reader of mine can of course enjoy that juicy tale here. Once the best of the light dissipated the kids peeled away from the group in twos and threes to find their dinners. I took their cue and did the same - I had been right about the banshee-like hunger.
The town had already started to turn in for the night and I was all too ready to start contemplating hitting the hay myself so dining decisions were made promptly. This was fortunate since our options were few at best regardless. On the main street in town was a small restaurant up some rickety stairs. Inside, flies assumed the role as confetti as they swarmed around the blinking wall lamps. The empty spaces and bottomless seats loomed at me. Whilst it was unsettling pondering the distinct lack of other diners it did make it easier to bag a spot at the least sticky looking lino topped table. When presented with the laminated, finger print embellished menu I began to decipher the cyrillic characters as best as I could. I skimmed for the word that was integral to my dignity and survival: Lyk (luk-onion). Of all the inconvenient food intolerances to have, allium has to be one of the most awkward and gutterally punishing. For years I thought that I simply hated these layered demons, that their putrid aromas and despicable layers turned my stomach just because I’d developed a phobia to them but no - I eventually learned that the feeling is in fact mutual and they dislike me just as much.
Fun fact: The smell alone is enough to trigger a reaction in some people who have this unusual intolerance.
The truth is: Anything in the onion family has the power to turn me inside out from the get go. Hooray
Travelling with any kind of allergy can be tricky, especially in places where they aren't widely understood. I usually cook for myself when I travel as it saves money and cuts the need for worrying about mischievous ingredients when eating out. Nevertheless, for times like this I’d prepared myself a nifty google translate screenshot explaining the intolerance in Kyrgyz and Russian to show in eateries. I presented my cracked phone screen to the proprietor and she looked at it as if I’d presented her with a sketch of a missing sock. Confused, pitying and then challenged, ‘I know, I'm sorry…’ whined my internal monologue. A few moments of awkward silence followed and I began to despair at my cursed digestive system, then to my relief she released a semi-understanding smile and gestured that she’d bring me “meat and potatoes” plain and simple. What kind of meat? Well, I never did find out but you really can’t go far wrong with potatoes.
Like the fool I am, I let myself relax whilst awaiting my dinner only to find when it arrived that the contents of the bowl made my stomach lurch before even lifting them to my mouth. I kept my cool, but amongst the glistening chunks of (mysterious/ ominous) meat, slithers of my silvery nemesis among other unidentifiable unfortunates wallowed in a gravy that had not been included in the “no onion included” meal. Not wanting to be a rude guest and being painfully aware that not everyone is lucky to have enough food to eat I told myself to hunker down and make the best of it, even if it meant anticipating the worst. I salvaged what I could and got enough down my neck as possible to look polite but there was no avoiding the inevitable. I managed to maintain a convincing composure for the rest of the time in the restaurant, paid and pep-talked my way back to my guesthouse safely. However, no amount of wishful thinking and pranayama could hold back the vomit and toilet yodelling that followed. A fate that all adventurers must accept one way or another. The likelihood of my allium intolerance killing me is mercifully low but as are its chances of making me stronger. Ho hum, I suppose.
After the hectic day I gladly surrendered to the respite of a deep slumber. My bed was the most comfortable I’d slept in since departing London and after three eventful weeks on the road I was ready for it. I let the mattress eat me until the next morning dawned, boldly and with the promise of more novel experiences. By way of apology for the Oniongate 2019 meal the universe sent a sumptuous Kyrgyzstani breakfast of honey cake, sweet black tea and butter glazed porridge my way. My host flashed her gold teeth at me in a generous grin as she enticed me to empty my cup as quickly as possible for the refills. It was simply divine and uncomplicated, just what I needed.
So what did we learn from this misadventure? Mostly that allium (onion) intolerance is a real thing and that google translate cannot always be trusted. If you have a food allergy/ intolerance then you’ll know how difficult it can be when eating out but you shouldn’t let it deter you from travelling and living the dream. Here are some tips that you may find useful - and if you don’t have any dietary restrictions then... Good for you I suppose.
If you have an epipen or urgent rescue remedy then make sure you have a spare when you travel - and remember to always carry it!
Carry a card explaining your restriction in simple easy to understand language - ideally in the local dialect where you’re travelling as well as your own.
Including some pictures can be helpful too. In my case, the word “onion” alone in any translation isn’t enough as there are so many different types so pictures might just have saved me. Allium is a beast that assumes many forms.
Know the word for what you can’t have in the local language and remember to scan labels and packets when shopping. If you’re not certain if something is safe then it may be better not to chance it.
Self catering can be a little boring and repetitive but by preparing your own food you can save a lot of money, still eat locally sourced ingredients and ultimately have peace of mind about what has made it onto your plate.
Despite all your best efforts, if the uninvited turns up on the table and eating it really will unleash hell then politely decline as sensitively as possible. The way I see it is that actually gagging - or worse - at the table is somewhat ruder than simply saying “no thank you, but I appreciate it”.
This is the bit where I say a hearty "thanks!" and "рахмат!" for making it to the bottom of the page, I have plenty more Central Asia content in store for you - as well as other adventure tales from the likes of India, Japan, Peru and many many more! Stay tuned for updates on Instagram or subscribe to get the latest on here the moment I post something new.
For more on Kyrgyzstan: Karakol Animal Market
Coming Soon: The Free Lunch Fracas of Bokonbaevo
I’m loving this latest instalment 🤗👏🏻 Even the onion related content 😛