shalkar

About an hour and a half away from my village, steppeward, there is a huge salt lake, Shalkar. It used to be part of an inland sea, some time before human memory. It’s quite crowded in July. In June, fewer people go. There are yurts for rent along the shore, so you can be in the shade, and often people rent one and spend the night there.

I went to Lake Shalkar on Saturday. It happened like this: my host family asked me if I would be free to go to Shalkar with them on Saturday or Sunday, and I told my teachers my host family might take me. “Oh, let’s go to Shalkar!” said one of the teachers. “No, I can’t go with you, I’m going with my host family,” I said, but this was completely ignored. As it turned out, my host family decided on Friday night not to go, so I walked over to Zhopar’s house and we made arrangements. Her son, Aslan (26) was repairing the car, and her daughter, Camila (23) came home as we were looking at the watermelon plants in the garden. So, on Saturday morning, we went.

Aslan was loading the car with my backpack, as usual, containing way too many clothes and first aid products, and Zhopar Aizhan’s stuff, as usual, carrying tons of dairy products. Finally, we females came out in a line, empty handed (Aslan can’t stand to see anyone female carrying anything). Aslan, shoving things into the trunk, asked us if there wasn’t furniture, too. The dog, Druzhog, followed us and put his head on Camila’s lap as she sat in the car. “Oh, Aslan, can I take my dog?” “Yes, of course,” he said. “And I’ll get the chickens.” But it did all fit, as much as there was for a day trip.

After I’d eaten a good bit of khaimakh (like sweet cream/ sour cream, but soooo much better.) and something like cottage cheese, enjoying it very much, Zhopar Aizhan said, “I used to boil it, [i.e. pasteurize] but I like the flavor better when I don’t.” And, as I have so many times, I prayed that I wouldn’t get violently ill, at least not on the beach. And I didn’t. But it will be very hard not to eat Zhupar’s khaimakh.