There’s No Word for Vegetarian!

“No Vegetarians today! You eat this!” shouted Ayesha, our Kyrgyz chef, as she beamed with pride, carrying her freshly barbecued Shashlik. I’d been vegetarian since I was 18, the past 23 years of my life, but I’d told myself that this was a trip of a lifetime, and if I had to eat meat, I’d eat meat.

We’d arrived in our basecamp at the head of the Kyulu Valley, deep in the Tien Shan mountains of Kyrgyzstan, 3 days earlier. It had taken 7 hours to travel from the nearest town in our Gaz 66, a soviet era overland truck. The final hurdle in getting into our chosen camp spot was to cross a dilapidated bridge across a raging river of glacial melt water. Only one of our 2 drivers was willing to attempt to take his truck across the bridge. After getting all of us and our kit over the bridge by foot, we spent the next 2 hours trying to add as much strength and stability to the bridge as we could by wedging rocks between the 2 steel girders and the planks of wood that formed the tracks for the truck’s wheels. Once our driver, Ura was happy, he went for it. Everyone stood in silence, too scared to breathe as he made his way across the raging torrent. With a final burst of adrenaline and cigarette smoke, Ura put his foot down and roared across the end of the bridge and onto solid land. To a huge cheer from his audience, he jumped out of his truck screaming and smiling and immediately embraced everyone, clearly elated to have made it across the river. This wasn’t the time to tell him that he had to do it all again in the morning!

The valley we were in had no roads, just a rough track suitable for horses, massive overland trucks and 1980’s Lada’s (apparently!!). Dotted along the valley were several small homes belonging to shepherds and their families. Our camp was situated close to a home owned by a shepherd called Rizpik and his wife and 2 young children. Rizpik managed a large heard of horses and sheep and it would be one of these sheep that was destined to become the team Shashlik!

I’ve always admired people who can hunt, kill, butcher, prepare, cook and eat animals. I know that might sound weird coming from a vegetarian, but I genuinely believe that this is a healthy and natural way to eat. The problem is, I just find animals so cute I can’t bring myself to eat them. I’d been warned by my team mates that there was a rumour we were going to ask Rizpik if we could have one of his sheep to feed the team. I had mentally prepared myself for it. I told myself that it was all part of the adventure and I should just embrace it. But when I heard that he’d picked one and strapped it to the back of his horse to bring into camp and slaughter, I couldn’t bring myself to go and watch.

After a few minutes, someone shouted over to me that the sheep was dead. It surprised me how relieved I felt that it was over and how intrigued I then felt about watching the process of skinning and butchering the animal. I wondered across in the warm morning sun and joined the small crowd that had gathered around Rizpik to watch a master of his craft at work. As well as our team of mountaineers, Rizpik’s 2 girls, aged 7 and 4, had also ridden over on their donkey to have a look. Occasionally, Rizpik would give them instructions and they would diligently assist, no doubt excited in the knowledge that they were also going to get some delicious fresh meat.

A few days passed and despite warm temperatures and a lack of any form of refrigeration, our team was surprised to still be receiving mutton for our evening meal. The perfectly marinated Shashlik had gone down well but the sheep’s stomach less so. I watched Ayesha and her son washing what to me looked like a towel in the river a few days earlier. When I asked what it was, they informed me that it was the sheep’s stomach and there was nothing better for our own gut health than to eat this. I smiled sceptically and wandered back to camp to tell the rest of the team what they would be eating later.

Over the course of the week, Ayesha had started to understand that eating meat wasn’t something I wanted to do and gradually she began taking pride in producing something delicious, and huge, for me to eat. As the rest of the team grimaced their way through the stomach, I smugly enjoyed my plate of 6 fried eggs, chips and salad. I had so much on my plate in fact, that I was happy to share out a few chips to those in the team who couldn’t stomach the stomach.

The following evening, we were served a bowl of delicious noodles. I was told it was vegetarian but I doubted that Ayesha had any vegetable stock and decided that although I wouldn’t normally eat lamb stock at home, I was happy to just get on with it here if there wasn’t actual meat pieces in it. I’d eaten most of the noodle soup and had to admit that it was one of the tastiest meals I’d had in Kyrgyzstan, when I reached the bottom of the bowl and 2 small pieces of meat floated up. Looking down at it, a little bit horrified, the person sat next to me leaned across and with a wry smile said “Ah, stomach! Yum!”

That night I lay in my tent unable to sleep. Initially I couldn’t work out if I was just being paranoid or if there genuinely was something wrong. I decided to get up and have a walk over to the toilet tent just in case. The sky was clear, the moon was full and the stars were incredible. I was feeling better for a little walk and felt grateful that a little bit of paranoia had gotten me out of my sleeping bag and allowed me to take in the beautiful night sky. I slowly made my way back to my tent and got back into bed with a sense of relief.

I must have drifted off to sleep because about an hour later I was suddenly sat upright with a sense of dread and urgency. I desperately tried to unzip my sleeping bag and the tent door, something that becomes impossibly hard when you’re in a panic. Without time to grab a down jacket or put shoes on, I crawled out of my tent and immediately discharged my noodle soup! It was in this spot, just outside my tent, that I would spend the next 3 hours in extreme discomfort, gradually becoming dangerously cold.

At around 5:30am I watched with relief as the first signs of sunrise appeared over the mountains. A few moments later, Ayesha rose from her tent to begin preparing breakfast for the team. It took her a little while to spot me sat crumpled on the ground, somewhere between my tent and the toilet tent. She came over, and in broken English, and utilising her wonderful aptitude for charades, she worked out what was wrong with me and helped me to my feet, insisting that she had a cure for me. I followed her over to our mess tent where she sat me down and placed a mug of vodka and a tablespoon of salt in front of me.

“No, I can’t, seriously” I protested as she encouraged me to “Drink Wodka.”

As I sat there staring at the mug in horror, Ayesha poured herself a double shot of vodka and with a big smile shouted drink, before throwing the vodka into her mouth, screwing her face up and sucking on a piece of melon. Laughing, she picked up my mug, placed it into my hands and poured herself another double. I could tell I wasn’t going to win this battle.

With a sense of utter dread I began to drink the vodka. Ayesha cheered and quickly dispatched her shot. As soon as I placed the empty mug down it, was refilled with a chuckle. I knew I didn’t have long before the last one would make a return. I stared at this fresh mug of vodka and the thought of it was enough. I raced outside and immediately brought the vodka back up. Ayesha followed me out and in a very maternal way she rubbed my back and offered me some water for a wash. Once the vomiting had stopped, she calmly said to me “You see. It is working. More wodka now”

Just at that moment the rest of camp began to get up. This was the distraction I needed and as others began to chat to Ayesha, I made my escape. I went to lie down in my tent, and to my surprise I was feeling much better. As the rest of the team began to pack up and head off to our advanced base camp, I said I’d get some more rest and follow them up in the afternoon. However, once everyone had departed and I was lying in my sleeping bag, a familiar voice could be heard outside my tent. To my surprise, Ayesha entered the tent and said “I get you wodka.”

“No, no.” I protested. “I’m feeling much better thanks!”

“I go to Rizpik house and get more wodka. I won’t be long.”

This was my chance to escape. I couldn’t face the idea of more vodka. With Ayesha gone I quickly packed my rucksack and headed off up the valley to catch up with my team in ABC. When I arrived in camp I slept for 14 hours and woke up a new person.

After 2 nights at ABC and the first ascent of a 4180 metre summit, we packed up and headed back to basecamp. I was a little nervous as we walked over the small hill outside camp and the tents came into view. What if Ayesha was angry with me?

As we walked into camp, Ayesha began waving and smiling. I walked over to her and she embraced me and said she was glad I was feeling better. 2 days later some new team members arrived, bringing with them snacks and alcohol. Beers for the team and vodka for Ayesha and Rizpik. That night we drank the beers and celebrated a successful trip. Ayesha caught my eye and called me over to the kitchen tent.

“You drink wodka with me!” She commanded, grinning wildly.

“Come on then” I said with a smile.

SIDE NOTE: I’m not really sure what made me ill. No one else on the trip got ill like I did so I doubt it was the food. It could have been my body rejecting the bits of meat that I accidentally ate but it also could have been that I didn’t properly filter my water or wash my hands enough. Whatever it was, I’ve learnt that vodka is a fantastic form of medicine for stomach issues!!

It was actually fine being vegetarian in Kyrgyzstan. The restaurants all served something without meat, often pizza, and whilst our chef didn’t totally understand it, she managed to provide me with some fantastic vegetarian meals.