“Come, join us!” my host’s friend beckoned, pointing to the colorful cushion across from his 3 year old grandson.
I sat where he’d indicated, next to my host. Both men had grey hair frosted with white, just about their only similar feature. My host wore a taqiyah, while his friend sported an old-fashioned fedora.
“We are old school friends. We had 10 years of school together,” the friend informed me. “What is your name?”
“Nathan,” I replied, leaning across the table to clasp his hand.
“I am Ibrahim,” he replied, touching his jacket with his other hand.
“…and what’s your name?” I asked my host, embarrassed I hadn’t asked already.
“His name is Abdullajan, but you can call him Abdul.” Ibrahim answered for his friend, who nodded and grinned as he gripped my hand. “Vodka?”
Abdul held aloft a partially consumed bottle of vodka and an empty teacup.
“Sure,” I answered. After all, it was 1:30. Why not?
Abdul poured me a cup and set it in front of me. I let it sit for a few minutes, electing to nibble on some apples and flat bread first.
“Have some fish. It’s special fish, for vodka,” Ibrahim gestured towards a pile of dried fish on a plate. “It’s from Uzbekistan.”
I thanked them both and started eating, immediately choking on some tiny bones. Not wanting to spit out the meat, I forced myself to swallow the prickly bite. I could feel my eyes watering. I took a small sip of vodka to help it go down, only to have Abdul whisk the cup away as soon as I set it down.
He topped it off and set it in front of Ibrahim. The two men talked for a minute in Uzbek, then Ibrahim took a break to translate.
“To your health,” he said solemnly, raising the glass in my direction. Abdul nodded in agreement as Ibrahim threw back the contents of the cup. Abdul took the teacup and poured himself a few fingers.
Again, they talked for a few minutes before Abdul lifted his cup and said something very eloquent sounding in Uzbek. He gestured to Ibrahim–whose eyes sparkled with memory as he inclined his head gracefully–then to me. I followed Ibrahim’s example and nodded my thanks. After he drank the alcohol, I again found myself with the cup.
Realizing I’d erred in sipping without toasting before, I tried to think of suitable toast. “To your families,” I gestured to both the men, and they nodded solemnly. I drained the cup and handed it back to Abdul.
We talked for a bit more, Abdul speaking almost entirely in Uzbek and me speaking almost entirely in English; Ibrahim walked the line between both languages with ease. Both men’s toasts grew more eloquent before I again found myself with the cup. This time, I was ready.
“May your lives be full of happiness, and your homes full of laughter,” I said, looking at each man as I did so. Ibrahim translated and Abdul grinned, giving me a hearty slap on the shoulder.
“Are you married?” Ibrahim asked.
“No,” I chuckled, back on familiar ground from spending two years living in Korea.
“Do you like Kyrgyzstan?” he continued.
“Yes, very much,” I replied, a bit thrown off by the seemingly sudden transition. Ibrahim, though, was a craftier conversationalist than I gave him credit for.
“You must move to Arlsanbob. We will find you a beautiful girl, the best girl for a wife. And I will build you a house!”
I was a bit confounded, and said the first thing that came to mind. “That sounds really nice.”
Ibrahim burst out laughing and relayed the exchange to Abdul, who did the same.
I was surprised by how much I liked the idea.
The cup went ’round the table a few more times, the fish disappeared, and the delicious meal of potatoes, meat, and onions set in front of us by Abdul’s ever-patient wife and daughter was consumed.
“My friend,” Ibrahim reached for my hand, “if it is God’s will, I hope we will meet again. If not, I wish you the best life.”
“Thank you,” I replied lamely, “I wish the same for you. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
With that, the two men stood up and walked to the steps, leaning on each other for support. They laughed and joked with each other all the way down the driveway, Abdul’s wife and I looked on and shared a smile. I had a feeling she had watched this scene unfold countless times over the years.
I gestured at the two of them, then made a motion for friendship.
She nodded and smiled, mimicking them leaning on each other as they walked.
“Good friends,” I said, giving a thumbs-up sign.
She nodded in agreement and we fell silent, watching the two walk out of sight to where Ibrahim had parked his car.
Maybe it was due to seeing the time-tested friendship of Ibrahim and Abdul. Maybe it was due to the time that’s elapsed since I’ve been home. Maybe it was just the vodka. But, whatever the reason, I was suddenly, acutely aware of just how much I miss my friends.
- Hiking to Refugio Frey and Beyond - January 20, 2020
- Christmas Letter 2019 - December 18, 2019
- My Walk Out of the Woods - June 30, 2019
The Natural Beauty of Arslanbob
Great story to tell! I’ve had a similar experience about 3 years ago when I first arrived in Korea. Where I sat with the men of the family around the table drinking and eating (also some raw bony fish). So this reminded me so much of that. Cool post.
I really enjoyed reading this story. It read less like a memoir than it was a carefully crafted scene out of a beautifully-told adventure novel. I mean that, too. So then, do you plan to live in Arslanbob? It seems you have a wife waiting for you, huh? In the mean time, I can’t wait to read more about your adventures there.
Thanks so much! This is one of my favorite stories from my trip. Actually, right after Ibrahim and Abdul walked off, I ran into my room and wrote it all down. I wanted to preserve the memory as best I could.
As far as moving there, it was a tempting offer! I really liked that town… throw in a house AND a wife? Tempting offer 😛
I would have loved to have seen photos of your new friends. Not sure if their culture allows that. I always ask for permission when I photographs someone who will be recognizable in the photos.
Being single is fine, but I guess the next step would be to find a bride. The fact the toast was about family may have opened up that conversation. Elders always feel like they have someone nice for you to meet.
Are you still teaching English? Hope you have a great time traveling the world!
I know, I wish I’d gotten a picture with them! I’m horrible about taking pictures of people; I usually won’t even do it unless they come up and ask me to.
The marriage thing caught me so off guard. Haha. I’ve had that happen a lot in other countries, but just wasn’t prepared for it at that time.
I’m not teaching at the moment, but plan to start again in 2016. I miss it! Thanks so much for reading 🙂
Awesome story as usual. They sound like some great people. These are definitely the best travel experiences-where you learn you don’t have to be afraid of people who are different just because we’ve always been taught that by the media.
How did they come to be your hosts?
The organization I went through, CBT (Community Based Tourism), just placed me with them. They gave me a choice of two places, and I picked theirs because they were right next to the river a little outside of town. I got lucky, I think!
What a great story! No matter how many countries we’ve been to, we are always struck with the kindness and hospitality of others. We’ve had complete strangers give up their afternoon to help push our broken down motorbike to the next town, invites for tea from monks, and all sorts offers of “come, drink!” These experiences are some of my favorite memories from travelling.
Agreed! It’s such a reassurance that there a good people everywhere 🙂
Nathan, you painted the story so well with your descriptions and observations. Thank you for taking the time to observe and record such a bond between these two men. I’m so happy that you got to spend time in their company and find new appreciation for your own mates. Moments like that remind me of the friendships that I hold dear. A well-told story. Thank you ^^
Thank you Nadia! This is one of my favorite memories from my last trip. Ibrahim and Abdul were such an inspiration!
Hi! I really enjoyed reading this story and actually could imagine the scene before me-it was very well-written. I’m (of course) missing my friends now, but also empowered to keep moving, keep traveling and keep having rewarding experiences like this too. Thanks very much for sharing!
There are so many ups and downs when living away from home. It’s part of what makes it so exciting! Glad you’re feeling empowered to keep moving, that’s the best state of being 😉
I really liked reading this narrative, your words helped create a very vivid picture in my mind of these two men and yourself passing a teacup around the table. You really captured the scene nicely, and I am curious to find out more about the lives of these two guys. I very much understand missing friends while being away for so long and seeing a friendship like this that has stood the test of time definitely floods you with feelings!
Thanks, Katie! Agreed, I would have loved to have spent a couple weeks there… 4 nights was not nearly enough.
Ahhh! I love it! What a great scene, and a great story, well told. Those kind of experiences are the most memorable while traveling, but I am totally with you in that it always makes me miss my friends back home.
I’ve found it’s things like this that really make me appreciate my friends and family. I think I take mine for granted too often, so this was a healthy reality check for me.
We miss you too, mate. Looking forward to more than a few doses in the coming months. Perhaps some vodka, too 🙂
What a great story Nathan! I must admit, it is that ease and familiarity with my old friends that I miss most about home.
And yeah I also understand the feeling of missing out.. I feel the same when I travel. And when I am back at home, I miss being on my travels! Funny much!
I find the “we’ll get you a beautiful bride/groom” comment very funny! Every solo traveller I guess, has experience it atleast once in his journey 🙂
I know, right? It happens so much. I even had a shamaness in Mongolia eerily predict a failed relationship in Korea. Hahaha
Gosh! That’s scary!