Bishkek – Lost Passport

I am, maybe as well as the readers of this blog are, tired of my own carelessness. I lost count already of how many problems I faced in this trip due to my stupidity. And now it happened something that almost destroyed my entire traveling dream.

I went with Maksat to the city center. I stayed with Moken family in a complex outskirt of Bishkek. From Ala Too complex to Bishkek city center we need to take mashrutkoe (lit. fixed line, means minibus) for 30 minutes. There was no internet café around so the only choice was to go to the city to get a web access. After about 1 week in the villages between Bishkek and Osh, now I desperately needed and internet connection.

We want to Tsum. Tsum, center department store, is always available in all ex-Soviet big cities. In Bishkek, it is 3 storey building at the city’s commercial center. The internet access is fast, but expensive. I noticed many Internet cafes in Kyrgyzstan try to scam the clients by so-called ‘traffic fee’ system. They charge the Internet time usage as well as how many bytes are transferred during the session. You will be surprised by the expensive bill then. They will excuse, you have used so-and-so bytes of data traffic. The ridiculous traffic fee is usually not written explicitly at the entrance door, so I often feel being cheated.

Maksat helped me to call to Uzbekistan embassy. There is a telephone booth near the main post office. To use the public phone, one has to pay first at the cashier to buy ‘talon’ (token). It means we buy from the locket enough credit to cover the time we want to talk on the phone. A receipt is then given and we can dial to the number. If we haven’t used up all of the credits in the talon, the remaining balance will be refunded. This system is also a memory of the Soviet times.

Uzbekistan embassy is among the trickiest to handle. To apply for visa one must speak Russian and make a phone call to book an appointment. Maksat did it for me. Then it would be an interview session there and one should speak Russian or bring a translation for this (because the application form is only in Russian and Uzbek).

Today is very busy day. After arriving from Toktogul I am still tired. At the Internet I found that my Kazakhstan visa application was delayed. And now facing the hard-to-connect Uzbek embassy. OK. Never mind. Now I have finished my business. Maksat asked for a lunch. But Bishkek is indeed not as good as Osh in term of good food. The food at the canteen rows in front of the main post office is not delicious, and expensive.

We cross the road through an underground way. I go to a photocopy kiosk (in Russian, photocopy is called as ‘kserokopia’, a branded term from the probably most famous photocopy machine brand: Xerox) to photocopy my passport information for those visa applications. The photocopy machine doesn’t work properly and it suddenly breaks. Maksat rushes me as he has appointment at the afternoon. After waiting for about ten minutes, the machine works again, and we run immediately to catch bus to go back to Moken’s house.

Moken house is very busy. Many people come. Most of them are Moken’s countrymen from Toktogul. Moken is busy preparing the wedding of his son, Temur, 21 years old. Moken’s big house is very crowded of relatives from Toktogul, decorating the house, and give blessing to the young couple.

I am talking with Bakyt, a 20 y o boy from Toktogul who is studying in Turkish University in Bishkek. He asks to see my passport.

I grab my pocket, where the passport was. But hey…. My passport is not there…. I lost my passport!!!

Bishkek is not a good place to lose an Indonesian passport

I suddenly lost my mood. It is about 8 p.m and I wish I didn’t need to pass the night. Losing passport, especially in Kyrgyzstan, is serious problem. I can’t get any rescue because we don’t have embassy here. And it’s simply…. Simply nightmare.

I try to remember hard where I lost it. The last time I remember I was with my passport was in the photocopy shop. There are two possibilities: I left my passport in the shop, or I lost it in the bus. The first option was more possible. I was not dare if thinking the second one to be true. Losing in bus means I am completely hopeless… but I don’t think I am that careless to throw passport in a bus.

That night I can’t sleep at all. I sleep on floor in Moken’s sons’ room. Three of us sleep like packed sardine on floor. I didn’t sleep. Moken tries hard to relieve me.
“Don’t worry, if you don’t have passport and cannot leave this country, just stay here. I am your father already and this is your home,” said Moken, the taxi driver.
Ergetse, Moken’s wife, whom I used to call as ‘Soolo Apam (My beautiful mother)’ also says it was OK to live together with the Kyrgyz family.

Is this the end of my journey?
Why it comes so sudden?
And how can I be so foolish to lose passport?

That night is an unforgettable torture for me. Second by second passes very slowly. And I can’t do anything but waiting for the sun rises. A night is as long as a week for a frightened soul.