A guide through teaching and living
Is Teaching a Difficult Job?Yes, it is. Is it the most difficult job? No. But is it one of the most important? Absolutely. Teaching is the foundation of society, shaping the next generation of citizens. These future decision-makers will influence the trajectory of our societies, for better or worse. Have we done a good job in this field so far? I doubt it. But if there’s one thing all teachers agree on, it’s this: we can always strive to do better. And I couldn’t agree more.
As an international teacher, I’ve always been fascinated by the stories my colleagues share, and I often pass them on, alongside my own, to my students. The excitement I feel when students ask thought-provoking questions is revitalizing. It has taught me that the more glimpses and perspectives of the world you offer your students, the broader their understanding of this shared planet becomes.
Teaching in a country that isn’t your own offers an incredible advantage: the opportunity to immerse yourself in the local culture and truly experience life as the people there do. To embrace this fully, you need to be adaptable and open to different perspectives.
In this spirit, I’d like to share some of the places I’ve lived in and traveled to so far. Each has contributed to my journey as both a teacher and a lifelong learner. And I hope this journey doesn’t end anytime soon.
Kyrgystan
I loved Kyrgyzstan. Maybe it was because of the incredible people I met there, or perhaps because it was my first real international experience outside Europe. Either way, this country holds a special place in my heart. Kyrgyzstan is predominantly Muslim, but not in a rigid or extreme way. People are welcoming, hospitable, and incredibly friendly. And yes, while they drink and enjoy life, they still embody the warmth and generosity often associated with Islamic culture.
Bishkek, the capital, is considered the greenest city in Central Asia, and it’s no accident. The city is dotted with vast parks where you can relax comfortably, even stringing up a hammock to enjoy the shade. A peculiar yet amusing fact: if you’re caught smoking by a cop, you might pay a small “fine” of around three euros. It’s part of the corruption, but it’s an odd little quirk to note.
However, Bishkek isn’t perfect. The sidewalks in many areas are broken, and you might stumble into an uncovered hole left unrepaired for years. This happens because the harsh winters aren’t kind to infrastructure. Snow isn’t cleared or salted, so roads become packed with snow, elevating them to the same height as the sidewalks. As temperatures change, sidewalks crack, and with limited funds for repairs, the streets stay this way. If you hurt yourself, it’s considered your fault—lesson learned: watch your step.
Transportation, on the other hand, is fantastic. The city is served by marshrutkas, small vans converted into buses, with a vast network of over 300 routes covering every corner of the city. They’re cheap, too, costing less than 10 euro cents (10 som). Taxis are equally affordable, with numerous local equivalents to Uber making getting around easy and inexpensive.
The food in Kyrgyzstan is a revelation. The flavors are rich and diverse, from the delicious lagman (noodles with vegetables) and plov (rice with beef) to the smoky shashliks (grilled meat skewers). Everything is both tasty and affordable. Alcohol here is equally outstanding. Kyrgyzstan boasts the best cognac in the former Soviet Union and excellent vodkas, including the local Kyrgyz Aragi, which is closer in taste to vodka than to raki.
The people are another highlight. Kyrgyzstan boasts some of the most beautiful and unique individuals I’ve ever encountered—a fascinating mix of Russian and Asian features. The women are especially striking: beautiful, smart, and incredibly kind. Their friendliness and willingness to help reflect the warmth of the local culture, which blends tradition and modernity seamlessly. Despite the Islamic influence, people here enjoy life with a relaxed attitude—they drink, laugh, and embrace the joys of life, coining a term I found amusing: "Pislam."
Nature is where Kyrgyzstan truly shines. With 87% of its terrain covered by mountains, the landscapes are breathtakingly diverse. You’ll find everything from traditional yurts to charming Uzbek villages, like those near the Uzbekistan border in Arslanbob, a stunning destination. The Uzbek community here offers a glimpse into a timeless way of life, with elderly men in boots, black hats, and berets gathering around tables to sip tea, share meals, and discuss their joys and struggles.
Kyrgyzstan is a country of contrasts—rich in culture, full of natural beauty, and home to a wonderfully vibrant people. It’s a place that forever left an imprint on my soul, and I hope to return someday to relive its magic.
Hike to Ala Kul lake
Ala Kul lake
Tajikistan
The only seated golden statue of Lenin can be found in Tajikistan, in the city of Kulob. Tajikistan is divided into two regions: the autonomous region of Pamir and the main part of Tajikistan. The Pamir Highlands are a region in the center of Tajikistan, bordering China, Kyrgyzstan, and Afghanistan.
In the 1970s, the Soviets built a road to connect Afghanistan with the Soviet Union. Another road coming from China joins this one in the town of Murghab. This route is famously known as the "Devil's Road" due to its extreme conditions, which frequently cause damage. The road winds around the mountains, often blocked by rocks. Drivers usually stop and work together to quickly clear a path to continue—bam, bam, and they're on their way again.
To cross from Kyrgyzstan into Pamir, you pass through the highest customs checkpoint in the world, located at an altitude of 4,600 meters. I lit a cigarette there and felt incredibly dizzy.
From the Kyrgyzstan border (in Osh), we took a taxi to Murghab. Along the way, it was snowing heavily—an absolute blizzard.
In front of us, there were other cars as well, since many Kyrgyz travel to Tajikistan to sell goods. For example, mandarins are a very important fruit for the Tajik people. They serve them during baptisms, weddings, or any joyful celebration.
On our journey, just before starting the ascent, we stopped in a small village for some tea and a quick breakfast. It was a proper, authentic shop—just the way it should be.
As we ascended, the snow grew heavier, and the road began to resemble something I had never seen before. The border at 4,600 meters—was it really a border? Simple, unadorned, and almost punk in its essence.
The road beyond the Kyrgyzstan border runs close to and parallel with the Chinese border. Towering mountains and vast plains define the journey, creating a breathtaking landscape.
The transitions were sudden and immediate.
From winds and dust storms to sunny skies and deep blue horizons, the transitions were abrupt and striking. After a seven-hour journey, we finally arrived in Murghab, the first town you encounter after an incredible trip through plains, rugged dirt roads, and sunlit slopes. The town reminded me of documentaries I had seen about cities in Afghanistan.
We then went to Iskanderkul, where we stayed with an amazing guy and his family in their home. Every day was the same delightful routine: plov... then beer... then sauna... then a splash! He would say it every single day.
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