I took a cab to the Bishkek bus station and attempted to locate the marshrutka going to Karakol. I went to the ticket office and was motioned to the outside of the building, where there were dozens of marshrutkas. I walked around shouting Karakol, and would be pointed in one direction and then back in the other direction. After about 20 minutes, I found the bus.
I had timed this perfectly, only 3 seats remained. With marshrutkas, the bus will always wait until it is full. If you're the first person on board, you're guaranteed a long wait. I found a seat with ample leg room and made camp for the six hour journey to Karakol. The bus was full of local Kyrgyz people, I was the only traveller.
It was only a matter of minutes until the kid next to me had fallen asleep and started using my shoulder as a pillow. I gave him a gentle shoulder in the skull to wake him up, he looked annoyed. We repeated this game for a few cycles until he turned the other way.
Important contextual point for later; I had left my big bag in Bishkek as I would be travelling back the same way. Therefore, I had just the shorts i was wearing and a couple of t shirts - in the 40 degree Bishkek weather, you need little else.
After many hours driving along side Issyk-Kul, the second highest lake in the world behind Lake Titicaca (I've also been there!), passing settlement after settlement of abandoned Soviet holidays camps, we finally pulled into Karakol. Some six hours later. The weather had been getting greyer and wetter the closer we got.
I jumped out of the bus and instantly realised that I had made a grave mistake. It was freezing.
But that didn't matter too much, I would just head to the hostel and consider my options. Oh. The hostel was less of a hostel and was in fact scattered yurts in the open. The common area was akin to a garage, with no protection from the elements. I was cold and wet and had no way of heating up.
In urgent need to heating up, I head to a cafe called Lighthouse Coffee and Tea, and it was sublime. Warm and Dry. The food was limited so I ordered an extra hot Ramen. I'm not a huge fan of Ramen, but this was a game changer.
After warming up, I found out that the Karakol market was open until 17:00. It was currently 16:45, so I made a mad dash in the hope of finding warmer clothing. Nearly every store was closed apart from one Kyrgyz men's fashion stall. I was in no position to barter and must have looked desperate. I ended up buying a grey, plastic feel, tracksuit which was apparently an Adidas x Supreme special.
It was probably the best £20 I had ever spent. I was now warm and water proof. As it has been such an ordeal, I head to the nearest pub and have a well deserved pint on a table with a German couple. We didn't speak much, but they could tellI earned that beer.
I headed back the garage at the hostel to survey my yurt for the night. As a night cap, I met up with the Belgian chap whom I shared a five day car journey with. We discussed our different routes post-Tajik and agreed to meet up in Almaty, Kazakshtan.
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