On our last trip to Kyrgyzstan we stayed at 5 yurt camps, each one was slightly different but one thing never changed, there was always at least one yurt for tourists to stay in, known as a ‘guest yurt’. So when we arrived at our yurt camp for the evening (which was a one hour drive along dirt tracks, pastures and river crossings from where the family said they were based) we were a little surprised to see only one yurt. Next to the yurt was a kitchen tent which was rectangle shaped with a classic slanted roof, kind of like a little plastic house. We were confused as to where we’d be sleeping so we tried having a broken conversation with Isa, the nephew who’s been driving us around all day to suss out the situation and he confirmed that the main yurt was indeed the family yurt and apparently the guest yurt was packed away a week ago and all that remained was a circle mud patch on the floor, so it was still a mystery as to where we’d sleep.

The whole family and some neighbours welcomed us on our arrival, asking for a group photo before some of them headed off in a truck used to transport the livestock. We were invited into the family yurt for tea so we took our shoes off and stepped inside. It had a very colourful interior with floral patterned fabric on the walls and up to the ceiling. There was a log-burning stove with an attached box where they baked bread, a counter where a stove sat atop along with some cooking utensils and the the floor was covered in rugs, blankets and a central low-lying table.

On the table was a selection of fancy dishes filled with homemade mountain berry jam, butter and thick double cream. There was also a basket with torn pieces of bread and dishes of biscuits and chocolates….tea time is more than just tea in Kyrgyzstan. We’d been hoping to see cream on the table, it’s one of our fondest memories from our last trip to Kyrgyzstan, the cream was fresh from the cows and rivalled only by Cornwall and Devon’s clotted cream.

The water for the tea was boiled in a ‘Samovar’ an interesting metal urn shaped unit where a small fire was lit within it to boil the water. Once it was boiled they brought it inside and hot water was released out a little tap. We were offered milk in the tea and I instinctively said yes but immediately regretted it when I saw it being scooped out a jug. It was fresh cows milk and it was just a little too real for me. I had to add a couple spoonfuls of sugar to hide the dairy smell but it was unavoidable and hard for me to stomach. Isa managed to knock the dish of jam on the table and proceeded to scoop it off the table and back into the dish by using a piece of torn bread. Luckily there was another dish of jam that we could eat from so we piled cream and jam onto our bread and were in heaven.

It was already past 6pm so after eating the tea-time goodies we realised there was no chance we’d want any actual dinner. We normally go to bed at 9pm and they struggled to understand me being a vegetarian, showing us cans of meat as options for me so we said we didn’t need dinner.

Near the cooking area they had a tall wooden sort of butter churning looking device but it was in fact the Kumis-maker. Fresh mares milk is added into the barrel and then they pump a wooden pole into it repeatedly. I’m not quite sure what it does or how it ferments but the pumping definitely makes the drink bubbly.

Once we’d finished with our tea it was time to head outside and watch Gulmera (the aunty of Isa) milk the animals. They had 6 cows, 6 calves and around 15 horse and foals. She started with milking the cows and in my opinion she did it in such a great way, first the calf got some milk from mum (I think this is to get the milk flowing) then the calf was taken off the mum and Gulmera put a bucket underneath to start milking. Once she’d got enough milk she lets the calf feed on the udder again. It just seemed to be a very fair and humane way of taking the cows milk, the calf gets milk, the humans get milk and they all live in harmony.

They told us that they milk the cows twice a day, getting 20 litres from each cow. The mares are milked 4 times a day and provide 4 litres per mare. The excess produce that they don’t use is driven down to the town where it’s sold at the market. Isa said for 1 litre of Kumis they charge 100 som (£1) and 1kg of butter is 1000 som (£10).

Isa asked us if we wanted to have a little ride on the horse, we weren’t sure if it was a paid extra suggestion so we opted for a very quick trot for 5 minutes of laughter. Then it was time to watch the horses being milked, they seemed to be a lot more skittish than the cows and we were told not to get close so we didn’t distract them. It looked like much harder work to get milk from the mares but I’m sure they see it as time well spent if it means they can make Kumis with it.

As the sun dipped behind the hills we watched as the surrounding yurt owners all began corralling their animals for the evening. Sheep were herded by dogs who had them moving so fast that a video I took almost looked like it had been sped up. Before heading back to the yurt we checked out the toilet which was in a handmade wooden cubicle about 100m away from the yurt. The stench hit me before I even opened the door and inside was a wooden floor with a huge panel missing from the middle. It was a very deep pit-loo which gave me anxiety as I’m not only scared that I’ll miss-step and fall through the gap but I’m also worried that the floor is just poorly made and will collapse. It wasn’t a very hygienic loo and there were multiple large splatters of shit across the back where it appears someone decided to just bend forward and project shit everywhere. I guess it’s about time we find out where we’ll be sleeping tonight…