Sary-Tash, a village scattered between the ridges on the Pamir Highway. At this point, four roads converge: to the warm lowland Osh, to the high-mountainous Murghab, to the Tajik Jirgatal and the Chinese Kashgar. We came from the latter, crossed the border, smiled at the border guard, and placed our feet on the ground of Kyrgyzstan. They don’t speak Russian yet, but it doesn’t matter, I am sitting in the house, there is a hot stove, hot green tea and dinner and thick felt carpets. Tomorrow we will walk along the hills, and after tomorrow we will head to Osh.
