I’m heading to Istanbul (again)! Be back in a week.

The weather has been absolutely gorgeous lately. It’s like a switch has been flipped, suddenly I’m acting in a way that one might call “being social”. I’m searching for cafes that have their patios set up (not fast enough!), I’m willingly dragging the stroller outside on my own, and I’m foregoing sleeves. Bishkek is finally acting like Spring and I realize again that Bishkek isn’t just bearable to live in, it can be downright enjoyable.

Now it feels like a shame if I find myself having spent the entire day inside. Before it was a victory; I didn’t have to battle with the cold wind, the drab sky, or the over-protective babushki who scold me for exposing Win to the elements. Now it’s my duty to get him outside nearly every day. Science is figuring out that Vitamin D (which you get from sunlight) is a big help to our overall health and wellness, and why would I want to deprive my young son of that?

Plus, even though I haven’t yet discovered a non-awkward way to take photos while chaperoning Win around town (I either clog up sideway traffic if I have him in the stroller, or risk bumping the camera into his forehead if he’s in the Ergo carrier), going out affords more opportunities to photograph various decorated public transportation vehicles that I’m obsessed with.

The transition from working full-time (er, or sort of full-time as it was when I was pregnant) to taking care of Win full-time (while still sort of doing other stuff while he’s napping if all the chores are done and I’m not dead tired) has been tough. I’m still learning how to best manage my time and reconcile my current role as a (gulp) stay-at-home-mom (ugh), but I have to admit that it is a benefit to be able to just amble outside whenever I want.

In other words, that’s my explanation(/excuse) for having a quiet blog lately, that I’ve been too busy enjoying my life. Life could be worse, right?

Also, the Styers household has big travel plans this week. Farrell and Plov for Two are going to Almaty to play a show, then we’re all heading to Istanbul for a week to meet up with my dad, stepmom and little brother (it’s his first time out of the US!). So in addition to being too busy to blog because of the nice weather, I’ll also be too busy enjoying delicious Turkish food. Don’t be too jealous, I’ll have plenty of photos to post when I return.

(Btw, I haven’t found the giant field of blooming poppies like the one I’ve been dreaming about, but a friend’s yard started sprouting a few sporadic blossoms and I snapped some photos before the wind blew them to pieces. That sort of counts, right?)

Kyrgyz Music Friday is a (sometimes) weekly feature in which I post a pop music video from an artist in Kyrgyzstan. It could be catchy, annoying, funny, insightful, brilliant, awful, or anything in between. It’s what’s playing on the radio, what all the cool kids are listening to these days. Kyrgyz Music Friday is not trying to appeal to your musical taste (which I’m sure is awesome), but simply gives you a glimpse into how pop music is done on this side of the world. Feel free to share your thoughts on this week’s video in the comment section!

This week’s video is by Nena, “Unchukpadyng” (Нэна, “Унчукпадың”), which means “You didn’t say anything”.

The song is much better than the video. It’s upbeat and poppy, and watching Nena sing and bop around in the video makes me feel like I should follow her lead. If only the director had cut out the entire subplot, it would’ve been a perfectly decent video. The subplot involves a random dude looking for a jacket at the mall, a girl with white eyeliner realizing that she has fallen deeply in love with this dude after a few moments of brief, wordless interaction, and her desperate attempt to chase after him. If only she had said something before he left the store! It would’ve saved her 30 seconds of frantic running, because (Spoiler Alert!) she does bump into him in the end. It would’ve been better if perhaps she had been chasing after him because he forgot to pay for his blazer.

What do you think, thumbs up or thumbs down for this week’s selection?

This event was amazing. It’s ranked up there with the cat show for Best Things I Ever Experienced In Kyrgyzstan. This was the Mister Kyrgyzstan 2013 competition.

Thirty-three of Kyrgyzstan’s most strapping young fellows competing for a coveted title and a free trip to Turkey.

(This post is really heavy on the photos, so click through to see more.)

First, to test their public speaking abilities, each contestant had one minute to introduce themselves.

Most of the men were painfully awkward and nervous, spending most of their minute thanking the audience and their parents (especially their mother) for attending. It seemed like some tried to memorize something, which is a good idea until you get up to the microphone and forget what you wanted to say. It happened a few times.

Several mentioned that they didn’t have a girlfriend, sending the audience (99% women, I’d say) into a frenzy.

This contestant thought, “Why speak when I could sing?” and sang his speech while playing the komuz. I recorded video that you can view here.

The audience, from what we could tell, was mostly comprised of direct supporters for a certain contestant. Some of them brought signs to cheer on their dude. My friend who came with me (who speaks far far better Russian than I) spoke to a few people sitting around us. One woman came to see her son compete, telling us that she didn’t really understand what he was doing until earlier that day. A woman sitting behind us was part of a whole group that came to support another guy, but she quickly changed the topic of conversation to ask us if we’d take her to Canada or even just give her some money. She could really use some extra money from some rich foreigners, you know? (Side note: couldn’t we all?) Awkward.

The press was ravenous for a good photo. We sat in the second row, which seemed like an awesome idea during the almost two hours we waited for the show to start (5:30pm start time in Bishkek apparently means around 7:30pm). As soon as the show started though, we were mostly blocked by photographers and videographers (one who had earlier told my friend to tell me that my camera sucked, thanks dude). And, looking for good reactions from the audience, it seemed like there was always a camera pointed directly at us as we squealed with joy at how unexpectedly amazing the show was.

Second, “beach entrance”. This was clearly the best part. The men strutted around the stage in an outfit they would theoretically wear to the beach, which for some of them meant jeans, for some meant shirts that are easy to tear off, and for all of them meant copious amounts of oil rubbed over their bodies. I hadn’t anticipated that some of the contestants would tear off their shirts or pour cans of Red Bull over themselves, but once I caught on, I videoed a solid chunk of this part of the show. (Just to warn you, it’s almost 7 minutes long and takes a while to get going, and yes, that is me yelling in the background.)

Red Bull must have sponsored the show in some part, because everybody carried a can. Some drank it, some poured it on their chests, over their face, down their shorts, on their fellow contestants, or just emptied it right onto the stage. The auditorium reeked of sickeningly sweet Red Bull and all we could think about was how uncomfortably sticky everybody must have been.

Third, the contestants performed a “flashmob”, aka, a synchronized, choreographed dance that wasn’t the least bit spontaneous or unleashed upon an unsuspecting public, but I take it that word has a slightly different meaning here.

It was Michael Jackson-themed. I caught a fedora when they tossed them out into the audience.

The fourth portion of the show was for talent, but it wasn’t quite what I thought it would be. The men had previously chosen a celebrity or other well-known person to imitate on stage. As the host of the event read off the list of figures that would be imitated, it included names like Justin Bieber, Jacob from Twilight, Chuck Bass (from Gossip Girl), Kanykei, Lady Gaga, and Adolf Hitler. Someone actually had the balls to go on stage and pretend to be Hitler, and I am sorry to say that I wasn’t around to see it (a certain small child of mine was having a huge meltdown at home and I needed to rush back just as the talent competition started). From the ones I did see, a short audio clip was played and the contestant either lip-synched or strutted around on stage for about 30 seconds.

Tata Ulan.

Bruno Mars.

Timati.

Beyonce. (oh em gee)

Britney Spears. (also oh em gee)

The winner was number 13, Nurbek Sopuev (pictured at the top). Clearly, he had many things going for him. Along with a confident demeanor, he not only painted “I <3 KG" on his back during the swimsuit portion, but during his interview, he whipped a Kyrgyz flag out (of his pocket? I missed the crucial moment) and wore it proudly like a cape. If that doesn't read "Mister Kyrgyzstan", I don't know what would. I wish I knew who he imitated in the talent portion! I missed his. Congrats to Nurbek!

Speaking of Nurbek, Kyrgyz Music Friday’s favorite pop star, Nurbek Savitahunov was a judge and performed his latest hit song, Bishkek City. Dude has some serious pipes (although I could’ve done without the mic effects at the end).

Even though the night ended early for me, it was definitely a memorable night. For even more photos, check out the whole set on Flickr.

Let’s knock a few points from the Ticket List:

Salvador Dali-themed trolleybus, captured with my Smena 35. (The colors are gorgeous! I think I love this little camera)

And the Gustav Klimt-themed trolleybus, captured with my Nikon FG (with black and white film, oops).

Here’s a better photo of it taken by my friend Miles (of Plov for Two fame).

Here’s an article in Russian about the art-themed trolleys, if you’re interested. I’ve heard there’s now a third one roaming around the city, possibly Picasso? I haven’t seen it yet though. A new mission!

It was another one of those things where in my head, the process was simple and I could get through it with no problems and no misunderstandings despite my continuously depleted Russian vocabulary. In reality, eh, not so much. But in the end, I finally got six rolls of film developed. A few rolls are from 2011, a few from the past few months, and one from the beginning of our time in Bishkek, back in the fall of 2010. In other words, wow, some of these are way overdue.

If I wasn’t sure about my love of film photography before, I am certain that I am obsessed now after seeing the results.

Film is kind of magical. It’s a time capsule. Some of these photos are pretty plain and many are out of focus, but there’s something special about what ends up on the roll. There aren’t hundreds of photos to go through, just a handful of random moments that were lucky enough to make the cut. It’s not just the photos themselves, it’s the camera I took them with, the film, the time period, the flaws, the light leaks, the tears in the film, the order of the photos and how they jump from 2011 to 2013.

In other words, I know they are technically shitty photos, but I love them anyway. Feel free to let your geek flag fly in the comments if you can relate. (No, seriously, get in touch. I feel a bit alone in my love-of-film at the moment.)

Kyrgyz Music Friday is a weekly feature in which I post a pop music video from an artist in Kyrgyzstan. It could be catchy, annoying, funny, insightful, brilliant, awful, or anything in between. It’s what’s playing on the radio, what all the cool kids are listening to these days. Kyrgyz Music Friday is not trying to appeal to your musical taste (which I’m sure is awesome), but simply gives you a glimpse into how pop music is done on this side of the world. Feel free to share your thoughts on this week’s video in the comment section!

There are so many albums being released by Bishkek artists in the next few weeks. Dad Manki just released their debut album, “Fuck Yeah Kombich”, and Oakland is releasing theirs, “Однажды в Бише” (which I think means “Once upon a time in Bishkek”, but someone correct me if I’m wrong) on April 27th. In what seems like something terribly Bishkek-esque, their release party was originally scheduled to take place at Club XS, but it shut down (unexpectedly? Maybe. Thankfully? Yes.) and now the release will be at Pizza House (I know, no comment).

Oakland is a rap duo (you might recognize them from this previous Kyrgyz Music Friday post), that, from what I can tell, raps mostly in Russian about things like clubbing, eating lobster and drinking Hennessy whiskey. You know, just an average day in Bishkek. I’m not much of a rap connoisseur so I can’t tell if there are some finer nuances of this particular song that I’m missing that make it better than any other rap song. There’s a string part sampled that sounds cool (you can hear it best at the very beginning of the song).

I’m not positive that this is the “official” video for this song, but I like it anyway. It seems spontaneous and not overly choreographed, and the duo looks effortless in performing. Very minimal, I appreciate that.

If you’re interested in hearing more from Oakland, you can purchase the album on iTunes.

I went to the Spring/Summer show of Bishkek Fashion Week last year. It was awesome. The agency that organizes it (for some reason) granted me a press pass just for asking for one. (Is that how these things work? I’m inexperienced at being “press”.) I got to creep around backstage and take some of my favorite photos of Kyrgyzstan ever. I missed last year’s Fall/Winter show because I was hugely pregnant and already back in the states, but I swore to myself that I’d go again. So when I started getting email updates about preparations for BFW 2013, I was stoked.

(most of the photos in this post are from last year’s show, fyi)

But then, things went a bit pear-shaped. Some would call it a SNAFU.

Let’s walk through the timeline of my understanding of the week’s events.

Sunday, March 24: Cat show at the Russian Drama Theater! Near the end of the show, it was clear that there is a high ratio of high-heeled, willowy, attractive females in the building, leading me to believe there was a dress rehearsal for BFW going on at the same time. Or, maybe models just love cats.

Tuesday, April 2: Fashion Week kicks off at the Russian Drama Theater with “well-known” fashion designers that I’ve never heard of.

Wednesday, April 3: Supposedly, the recently fired director of the theater, believing his termination to be unfair, steals all of the lighting and sound equipment. The fashion show that night is cancelled. All of this is unknown to me at the time.

Thursday, April 4: Kirstin and a friend show up at the theater. Things that are strange: All of the banners on the outside of the theater are gone, there is no one selling tickets and very few people in the lobby other than vendors selling handicrafts (that was the same as last year, so that seemed like a familiar sign). We were a bit late, so I figured the show had started and we could sneak in. We open the door to the main hall, expecting to run into a scolding, ticket-collecting babushka, and were met with… nothing. Pitch black, no people, no fashion.

This is the part where I have a mini-meltdown. I know there’s a fashion show scheduled for tonight, I know that it’s supposed to be here. If I have the wrong day or the wrong location, then why is the craft fair still in the lobby, like last year? I’m positive. I received emails that said it would be this week, at this location. We spoke to a few vendors in the lobby who had no idea what Fashion Week was. Where did I go wrong!?

We wandered aimlessly outside the theater while I texted Farrell and tried to make sure I hadn’t made a huge error. He called back and said an article he found explained the now ex-director’s plundering exit. Apparently the show for that night had been moved to Atmosphere, a restaurant/bar. Considering how late it already was and our collective fear about trying to weasel our way into a swanky bar with sub-par Russian skills, we cut our losses and spent the night having a much needed girl-talk session at an Italian restaurant.

Friday, April 5: I get an email from the BFW organizers (I must have been stuck on a mailing list at some point) about a newly scheduled “Best of BFW” night in a few days that will happen to feature mostly designers from the cancelled Wednesday night show, at a different restaurant/club that I’ve never heard of. I later found out that the Friday show was also held at Atmosphere.

Saturday, April 6: I’m assuming that the Saturday night show happened, but I haven’t found any news about it. I received another email that the super exclusive black-tie, invite-only gala that typically follows BFW (scheduled for Sunday) has decided to be super inclusive. The email was essentially begging everybody and anybody to attend (at yet another restaurant, a different one) because they could really use the 500 som (~$10) entrance fee from as many people as possible.

Sunday and Monday: I had other plans already, so I skipped the gala and the “best of” show, despite how obvious it was that the organizers needed people to attend.

It’s disappointing that Bishkek Fashion Week became so chaotic and hard to follow just because one guy was upset about getting fired. I think the organizers could have done a much much better job at trying to keep the public up to speed on what was happening; the Fashion Week website wasn’t even updated with any evidence of this Spring’s show until after it had already started, and the emails they sent out for rescheduled events usually did not include information like when the show would start or the address of the place it was being held at. Also, examining some photos from the first night, the absence of a big-name sponsor that was on the main banner last year makes me think that maybe the organizers have lost a vital source of funding. Bad news for Bishkek Fashion Week, but I hope they can pull through.

Some of my friends (especially some in the fashion industry here) have complained about how meaningless they believe BFW is, but these things need to start small, they need to have some bumps, they need to feature shitty designers and eventually (if the event can survive) it’ll become better. Or, at least that’s what this clueless foreigner thinks.

In other Fashion Week news, Kazakhstan Fashion Week was held this past week in Almaty. Yours truly, feeling like any Fashion Week would be happy to have a random American girl poking around backstage with her camera, requested a press pass and was denied. Another Fashion Week Fail for me.

No more cameras. I told Farrell and my friends; don’t let me buy any more cameras (for a little while at least, unless I find a really good deal, or a Sputnik).

Last week, I visited a new-to-me antique shop where I had heard there might be a Sputnik for sale. There wasn’t one, but as I browsed some of the other cameras for sale, I realized that I had no idea what I was looking for in an old Soviet-era film camera. I made it a goal to figure out a brand and model that I wanted, what a fair price would be and how to tell if it was in decent working condition. After a few days of ruthless internet research, I decided I wanted either a Fed 2 or a Zorki 4. I planned to visit several shops this past weekend to get an idea of what cameras Bishkek had to offer, in what conditions and at what prices.

Here are my results.

First I went to Tsum, the big, old department store in town. On the fourth floor, there are many vendors selling mostly the same stock of felt slippers, kalpaks, postcards and other souvenirs. Some of the stalls have a small quantity of cameras, or there’s one or two dedicated antique shops. I knew beforehand that souvenirs here are mostly overpriced, but I was under the impression that while the cameras that were available might be expensive, it was because they were better quality than what I might find elsewhere. I took diligent notes and thoroughly annoyed several vendors by spending 15 minutes carefully pulling apart cameras, testing various shutter speeds, looking for defects, and asking very specific, technical questions.

It turns out, Tsum doesn’t sell pristine cameras, they just sell overpriced ones. Massively overpriced. I found a Fed 2 with serious shutter issues for 3800 som (~$80). As I was busy discovering various flaws with the camera, the woman working there called the store’s owner and told me, “She said it’s in great condition!” Oh, really? I guess we have different definitions of what “great condition” means. Other cameras I checked out were all in questionable working condition and a few were downright busted or absolutely disgusting (covered in blue mold). The cheapest one was 2200 som (~$46), which was way too much in my mind.

The next day, I went with a group of friends to the weekend market at Orto Sai bazaar (which you may remember is where I took my dad in January and bought my Smena 35). I was still planning to just look at what was available, open some cameras, ask some questions, take notes and maybe return the following week if I found a particularly fine specimen.

…and then I bought three cameras.

First, I came upon a guy selling a lone Zorki 6 among some old books and clothes. It worked well and the price was 600 som (~$12). Me, being an expert bargainer, talked him down to 500 som (~$10). My thinking was, maybe I’ll use this camera, or maybe I won’t and then I can easily resell it for at least as much as I bought it for.

About 15 minutes later I came to the same guys I bought my Smena 35 from. They had several Fed 2′s and Zorki 4′s and I found a pretty decent one of each. The Zorki 4 was the nicer of the two, so I thought, “Okay, if I were to purchase one of these, then I guess I’d go with the Zorki 4.” Then I asked the price; 600 som each.

Psssssh. Shut up. How about 500 som each? He agreed. Sold!

He threw in a few rolls of expired film for free. Then I convinced one of my friends to drop 1500 som (~$30) on a medium-format camera. I must have been his favorite customer that day.

So despite trying to be pragmatic about my next camera purchase, I impulsively jumped on a good deal. I feel good about my purchases though; I thoroughly examined each one and feel confident that they will probably work once I clean them up a bit and pop in a test roll (I won’t use the old stock until I’m sure that they work).

So now what? I have nine cameras with me here in Bishkek; a Canon 7D that gets tons of use (obviously, it’s my only digital camera), a Kodak rangefinder from the 50s that I bought on Etsy just before moving to Bishkek (I’m fairly certain it doesn’t work), a Lubitel 166B that I bought soon after moving to Bishkek (from Tsum, paid too much and something’s wrong with the film advance), a Nikon FG (gift from my stepmom), a Smena 35 (I broke the film rewind lever, but I’m assuming it’s still functional), a Smena 6 (from Karakol, I’m 99% sure it won’t work), and now my Fed 2, Zorki 4 and Zorki 6. I guess I should start shooting.

Like a proud parent, I’d just like to gush a bit more about my cameras. The Zorki 6 is, surprisingly to me, the oldest of the bunch, having been produced in 1960 (“before the Beatles!” says Farrell). The Fed 2 is from 1962 and the Zorki 4 from 1967 (they’re both fairly late models of their respective brands). The Zorkis both have the same lens, an Industar 50, while the Fed has an Industar 26m. I’m hoping to find a few different lenses while I’m here, maybe a Jupiter 8 or a Fed lens. If any of this makes sense to you, please feel free to comment and gush about your own Soviet cameras too!

Considering how global Darwin’s short life has been so far, I’ve been drawn to borrowing customs and traditions from other cultures to celebrate various milestones in his life. I dutifully tracked when Darwin would turn 100 days old so that we could commemorate the day. It’s a Korean tradition, called baek-il, so I invited some friends to join us at a Korean restaurant for dinner.

(Or, maybe I just used Darwin as an excuse for us to eat Korean food. It’s a strong possibility.)

It took me too long to realize that none of my friends would see the tie between celebrating Darwin’s 100th day and eating Korean food, because it turns out that I’m the only one that obsessively watches Korean soap operas. When I was sequestered in the US during my third trimester, I watched day-long marathons of Smile, Donghae, and there was a long-running arc about the 100th-day celebration for a set of twins. I guess when I watched those characters talk about it over so many episodes, I got the notion stuck in my head that it’s a thing I should do too.

The evening was marked by Darwin getting passed around to every single waitress in the entire establishment. One waitress, Aigul, remembered Darwin from when my dad was visiting Bishkek in January and was ecstatic that we brought him back. She kept popping into our room, asking to hold him, and then whisking him out of sight.

Our friends kept asking me, “Does it make you nervous? Aren’t you worried that you can’t see him?” and I’d laugh and continue staring at the door, watching him come into view long enough to see him passed to someone else.

In the end, Aigul would bring him back (usually just as he started getting fussy), saying something in Russian about how she wanted to take him home.

It was nice to have several babysitters during the meal, but maybe I won’t bring Win back to this particular Korean restaurant anymore.

(Just kidding, it’s one of my favorites.)

During a bit of preparatory research, I found some sources mentioning that one part of the celebration is to place the child in front of various symbolic objects (some sources said they do this on their first birthday, oh well), and whatever object they pick up will tell something about their future. You better believe that we did this.

I gathered things that I already had around the house, some that seemed more traditional than others. He had a book for knowledge, a pen for wisdom, a piece of string for longevity, a (bright orange, plastic cocktail) sword for strength (or a future in the military, depending on the source), a 200 som note for wealth, (the rest are my own additions) a roll of film for photography skills, a guitar pick for musical skills, and his passport for wanderlust.

Darwin isn’t actually so great at grabbing objects yet, so he swatted a couple times and hit the string (long life!), but we mostly just watched for what caught his attention. He stared at his passport a lot, and maybe the book caught a few glances too.

He tried to eat the roll of film, which pleased me immensely. (He didn’t even get his mouth on it, don’t worry, grandparents.)

He’ll live his long life traveling the world, taking pictures and reading. Not bad.

Eventually he grew tired of being passed around and made to decide his future and had to take a nap.

Sleep tight, little guy, and here’s to many hundreds of more days.