We were kidnapped on the way to Osh.   It all started when they gave us a choc-ice in the taxi.  Jamie and I had both had a severe dose of ‘Andijan-belly’. We had not eaten solids in days and the icy chocolate cream hit our stomachs with a bump... but worse was to come.   “So you’re from the UK?!” Said the guy in the front passenger seat of the taxi. “Do you have watermelons in the UK?”  “ Yes, I said, but Uzbek ones are much sweeter... oh and those yellow melons you have are delicious....” I stopped myself.  Jamie was kicking me in the shin.  The car slowed down. The man in the passenger seat got out of the car and bought two giant melons. “God, I hope they’re not for us” i whispered to Jamie.  They were.  “Have you had lunch?” The Guy in the Front Seat continued. “er...” I didn’t want to say that the only thing I’d eaten in the last 3 days had been plain biscuits and that choc-ice. “no” I said, “but we had a huge breakfast” “OK, then we should stop for lunch” “ No no, really that’s fine”  “No, I insist. You are guests here”. “Oh, OK, thanks” “I know a great place that sells plov”  The car slowed down again. I could feel the choc-ice disagreeing with my intestines. I wobbled out of the car and was sat at a table under a tree at a roadside cafe. “the plov is great here”  “Er...” “Two portions of plov please waitress, and bread, and cheese, and salad”  “em...”  We were resigned to our fate.  The taxi driver and the Man in the Front Seat proceeded to cut up the two giant melons handing us huge slices... “eat! eat!” they said in chorus.  There was no escape.

 

We ate as much as we could, smiled a lot and dealt with questions such as “do you have flies in the UK?” Two hours later we were finally able to get back in the taxi. As we pulled onto the road again we thought it was over and smelt the sweet air of freedom and Kyrgyzstan.  But we were not out of their grip yet. “You’ll need some fruit for the journey - the fruit over the border in Kyrgyzstan is no good... have you tried Uzbek figs??”  “erm....”  We we’re taken to the Guy in the Front Seat’s house where he picked grapes from his own vine and handed them to us. We were then frog-marched to a fruit market where he paraded us around buying us figs, pears, and yet more grapes. When he offered to buy some peaches I begged him to stop  “please, thank you so much, but no more.... “ He relented and bid us farewell.  We were free.  The taxi continued on it’s way and after a few diversions we made it to the border.

 

In Osh we gave everyone we met fruit and then slept for 14 hours. The giant melons, dozen or so figs and countless grapes actually did our bellies some good. The next day we went round the town’s bustling market, had a look at a large Yak40 passenger plane parked in a park and then got in a taxi for the 12 hour overnight journey to Bishkek....

HA