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almostfancywombat · 5 years ago

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Amias Story Modern AU

(college au for my bastard children)

The end of class is all Amias needs to be spurred into thunder; tossing his bag over his shoulder, he catapults over the desk, clearing its length before landing with a flourish. Worn sneakers scrape against carpet as he launches into the hall, hearing his classmates and professor’s disgruntled exclamations.

Cheerfully humming, he weaves through his peers. Half-hearted greetings spill from his lips, the bare minimum to appease the hordes before he tears himself free from the surging throng, skirting along the hall’s edge, face nearly skimming the windows. Approaching the lobby, he soars out the doors and into the quad, dancing between the students milling about. Ever eccentric, Amias doesn’t draw much attention. If anything, it would be odder not to see him making a fool of himself.

Instead of returning to his car, he migrates to the library. Tucked into a study room, Amias spends the next hour editing next week’s video and ends up taking a nap on the beanbags strewn about, stealing half a dozen to hide beneath. Accompanied by a steady shuffle of papers and clicking keys, he weight on his chest and arctic air lulls him into a fitful nap.

Amias sleeps through his first two alarms and the student librarian wakes him when his 20th alarm blares. Thanking the girl, he tosses his belongings into his bag and rushes to the parking lot. Across the school, in the business department, Wren sits waiting for him to pick her up for lunch.

Shuffling along, he exits the building, squinting. He snags a scooter from a passing student and zips away. A cobbled path connects every department, and

Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he abandons the scooter on the stairs outside. He shoots Wren a message, sitting down as he awaits a response. Meanwhile, he studies the students dotting the yard.

The business sector is filled with point-dexters and wanna-be Finance Bros, everything Wren is not. Despite her hobbies, she’s majoring in International Commerce, minoring in Mandarin, and taking additional classes in Arabic. She must enjoy abusing her mind. Today, her final class ends at 1:00, and since he ferries her from place to place, Amias will treat her to lunch-dinner.

ME Where are you?? 😣 ❤️ Wren ❤️ otusdie bc 👍 Sorry talking with sb rn Stupid empjis

His head snaps around, scanning every nook and cranny. When he finally spots her, he’s surprised to find her sitting at a bench, sandwiched between a hijab-clad lady, and young man. Too youthful to be a college student, he has a fresh and startling visage, shocking Amias with traits atypical of his apparent race.

Though, it is difficult to be certain. As a world traveler, Amias has met people from all backgrounds, witnessed the pinnacle of beauty and fashion, yet none are as astounding as this boy.

An odd mix of characteristics. Tan skin, milky blue eyes and a nest of cinnamon sugar hair. He has a thousand-mile stare, deep, dark circles beneath his eyes. Despite this, his features are soft, not yet fully formed. He and the lady share the same eye shape, but they are otherwise incomparable.

Waving, Amias’ lips quirk upwards in the ghost of a smile. But when he realizes Wren is helping set up a laptop with high contrast mode and a million-point font, he cringes. His hand slips back to his side. The boy is visually impaired and not looking his way, but staring into space.

Wren huffs, still fiddling with the settings. “Sorry it’s taking so long. We should’ve done this during summer camp when we had the translators, but I didn’t have access to the school’s laptops.”

“It’s alright, you’ve done enough,” the lady says. To his linguistically untrained ears, her accent mistakenly registers as Turkish, but Amias is certain he’s incorrect.

The boy mumbles incoherently. Wren somehow understands.

“Yeah, it’s silly. I get that they’re busy, but the very least–” Wren accidentally hits text-to-speech, and the computer spews a Turkic-sounding language. She and the boy jolt, scrambling to turn down the volume.

Slinking over, Amias clears his throat, so as not to startle them. Keeping a safe distance between the other pair, he instead hovers over Wren, feeling her head on his chest. Fortunately, she recognizes the scent of his shampoo and relaxes.

“Amias! What are you doing here?”

He feels her head turn, cheek now pressing onto him.

“Surprise, surprise.” He grumbles. His hands glide over the screen, desperately accessing the toolbar. Despite the undecipherable language, he knows this model’s general layout well enough to disable the function. “I fell asleep in the library and woke up in time to treat you to Lunchner.”

“Oh shit. Can’t believe I almost missed Lunch-Dinner,” she whispers. She slams a few more keys, and the computer finishes its set-up procedures. The text is in what appears to be some Arabic script. “Great. Bye, Sieon, Sieon’s mom. I’ll see you next Thursday. Text or email me if you have any issues until then. I gave y’all my information, right?”

“Yes,” the lady answers, waving around a sticky note. “Thank you again, Wren.”

“S’no problem. Just glad to be of help.”

The boy mumbles and nods, leaning in toward the computer screen as he types a password. His other hand lifts a neon sticky note into the air. Wren’s number is imprinted with a thick permanent marker.

Unperturbed by his sudden appearance, the boy stares and murmurs in a foreign language. When she doesn’t respond, he repeats in the same quiet, steady tone.

Engrossed in packing her bag, it takes a seventh attempt until Wren notices. She takes a moment to process and cuts him off. She responds in Mandarin, which Amias mostly comprehends.

“Eh? Yeah, that’s my friend. 自从我哥哥最近找到工作以来，他就开车送我。I like going with him. 他总是给我送零食。” Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Wren practically throws out her hip to avoid hitting another table. She resumes on her way as if nothing happened and calls over her shoulder, waving. “Anyway, see ya.”

Amias waits until Wren occupies his side to move. Once they’re a safe distance away from the pair, he interrogates her.

“Who were you talking to?”

Wren inhales, prepping for a rant. “Sieon-Fletch Alimjan, a high-school junior. He’s taking English and dual-enrollment classes here.”

“And do you happen to know where he’s from?”

“Said he and his mom just moved from Urumqi, but his dad was already working in the States. They barely immigrated this past summer due to visa issues, and we actually met during June, at a camp I volunteered at. Apparently, the twin’s parents are their co-sponsors, and his dad is working for the same place my mom does, so we’re destined to be in each other’s lives in some way or another.” She scratches her cheek. “Even if he’s younger, I don’t mind. He reminds me of my brother.”

“It’s nice that you’re able to help,” notes Amias with a twinge of pride. She’s come a long way from refusing to even talk to teachers. “Look at you! You’ve developed such a talent for talking with people.”

Wren shrugs. “Not really. He speaks Uyghur, but more Mandarin than English, and I won that study abroad contest, so I’m pretty good at it. I’m only good with him because the admins sorta offered me extra credit for something to tour his family. We get along fine, but he has another aid to help him around when I can’t. Oh, guess what? He's going to Berlian, our old high school. Coincidence, isn’t it?” Then, in a quieter voice, she adds, “You know, I don’t think we would be friends if we hadn’t met so early.”

“How could you say that?” It stings, but he plays it off as a joke. While Amias knows his abrasive personality is off-putting, he’s always restrained it for her, just as she dilutes some aspects of hers. That’s how their relationship works, at least; they have clear boundaries that are hardly crossed, so there’s no reason to enforce arbitrary rules. “We were both weird kids, so I knew we’d get along. Who else had a family member who spoke French?”

“Roman,” she answers, balancing on a curb stop.

He winces. That weird band dictator who insists on auditioning despite having no time? Amias never wishes to make his acquaintance. “He doesn’t count because he’s Quebecois, and his accent is bad.”

Wren stares long and hard. She blinks slowly, like a cat. “I always knew French people were rude, but you’re like, unnecessarily evil sometimes.” Then, before he can act offended, she expertly switches topics. “Anyway, what’s so important that we gotta leave school early?”

“Nothing much,” says Amias, unlocking his car. Sliding behind the steering wheel, he tosses his bag into the backseat and toggles with the radio. Expectant, he eyes Wren. “I’m taking you to Dos-i-Deux to celebrate surviving our first day back.”

Clenching her jaw, Wren remains resolute. A homebody by nature, she prefers drinking instant coffee at home. He’s testing her, playing right into her weakness. But a glance at him sends her resolution tumbling.

“Fine,” she concedes, tossing her bag through the window. It hits him in the face and he carelessly chucks it, a small act of revenge. “Why do the coffee shops in town have the wackest names?” She ponders aloud and runs through a mental list before stopping abruptly. “Turn on the AC.”

“Do you pay for my gas?”

“Turn on the AC,” demands Wren, grabbing and flapping her collar.

He grabs her hand, stopping her from flashing passersby. They enter a staring contest, a death match between an immovable object and an unstoppable force. But relenting to Wren’s will is inevitable. She doesn’t have to say anything before he’s sighing and reaching for the dial.

Whatever. Whatever Wren wants, Wren will seize. It doesn’t help that, when it comes to her, Amias has a backbone like a chocolate eclair.

On full blast, a cold breeze knocks his hair into disarray. “Can I just lower it?”

“No.” Wren nods, then proceeds to steal his phone and monopolize the radio. Her taste in music is strange; she blares music from eras bygone in languages Amias has never heard.

Nevertheless, they mumble along, and when they reach Dos-i-Deux’s, he has already acquired a taste for Bad Bunny and indigenous Siberian rock. The latter is somewhat expected of her completely random tastes, but Amias picks up Morales influence; Lucinda has raved about the previous, but he hadn’t taken her word on the singer until now.

“The usual?”

Feet on the seat, she holds her knees to her chest. The blue light of her phone illuminates her face. “Yup. I’ll Venmo you the $6.50 later.”

Amias pauses to ruffle her hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just deduct from your snack allowance when you come over to study.”

“Ugh.” She slides back in the seat, slamming a palm into her forehead. “Don’t remind me. Can we invite Pan? She’s the only reason we got into this school and she’ll be the only reason we stay in it.”

Laughing, Amias retrieves his wallet and crosses the parking lot. Head swiveling around, he takes in the city, hears its bustle. It’s near the local college campus and a well-placed suburb in a quieter part of town. What he wouldn’t do to leave this place.

Greeting the lady at the counter, he intends to ask about her paid internship. They’ve developed a repertoire, with him helping to introduce her to one of his many contacts while she offers free drinks and company whenever he doesn’t want to work at home. Much to his complete and utter dismay, an entirely different yet still familiar girl turns around to greet him.

Suddenly, the bright decor fades like watercolors left in the rain. The once cozy place, small with heaps of decorative pillows on benches, feels stifling. Is it getting hotter? Is he on the verge of fainting?

“Oh shit,” Amias mutters. Too late to exit, he steels himself and undergoes incredible mental gymnastics in the few seconds it takes to cross the threshold. To emotionally devastate her, or not? He better play it safe. He reciprocates Molly’s wave but lacks the enthusiasm, limp-wristed as his lips curl into a thin line. Leave, he must.

Attempting to place the order and bolt, Amias tries ignoring her, but that ghastly smile remains plastered across her face. After stating Wren’s simple order and requesting a substitution for regular milk, he divulges his diabetes-inducing concoction of syrup, coconut milk, and double whipped cream. Molly is excruciatingly slow to input it. With a heavy heart, he realizes he must participate in the treacherous thing called Small Talk.

Idle banter is not his style; it saps his very soul from his body.

“So, you work here now?”

Hilarious, coincidental, even, that it happens to be the cafe he frequents. He’s starred in a few local, cringe-worthy ads for the place, but perhaps it’s time to cut ties and move on to greater vistas, like their competitors who’ve offered to scoop him up once his contract ends.

The girl twirls a strand of dyed hair, a similar shade to his peroxide locks. “Yeah, today’s my first day. I just got hired.”

“Can’t believe you got another so soon,” grumbles Amias, jamming his card into the slot. “Don’t make my order, then. I’ll take my business elsewhere. I don’t want it to look like shit.”

“Why��re you being so mean?” Molly pouts, leaning in.

Amias grimaces. He forgot she’s into strange, strange things, influenced by the female version of those Alpha Male podcasts and mistakes his Molly-oriented misogyny for attraction.

Sighing, he tugs a chair free and plops onto it, slouching over the table. Amias scrolls through his messages, finding them mostly filled with alerts to redundant comments posted by his younger fanbase. Still, he responds to a fellow creator and a few subscribers in the time it takes Molly to prepare his order.

Scrutinizing it, he deems her training as effective. “Who trained you?”

She beams, relishing in him initiating the conversation. “Some exchange student. Aline something? Has a funny accent?”

He scoops up the drinks, making a mental reminder to inform the manager of Aline’s miraculous teaching abilities.

“M’kay, bye, thanks!” He says, voice sing-song. The second drink rests in his hand while his copiously sweet concoction rests in the crook of his elbow. He bolts before he can feel guilty about not leaving a tip.

Shuffling back to the car, Amias spots Wren staring at her phone, mouth moving. Puzzled, he observes her for a moment, knocking on the door to signal her to unlock it.

He steals a sip from both beverages before setting them in the cup holders. “Who were you talking to? Did Sieon call for something?”

Instead of her bumbling voice, a deeper register responds. “Me.”

Amias jolts, eyes darting to the rearview mirror. A pair of sharp, cat-like eyes stare back. Practically tossing himself into Wren’s lap, he peers between the seats. The boy looks to be seventeen or eighteen, likely his age. Entirely unbothered, dark brown eyes crinkle as the only hint at the smile he flashes beneath his mask. A hand rises to tousle long, wavy hair.

Gorgeous, gorgeous young man. Instantly, Amias decides to despise him with every fiber of his being as he unbuckles and turns around.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you in my car?”

“Language!” With a hand gripping his hair, Wren shoves Amias back into his seat. “Let me explain.”

“You better! He’s even wearing a mask.”

“Allergies,” the stranger justifies.

Utterly perplexed, Amias throws open the door. Turning back to Wren, he shoots her a look that demands she follow his example. With her complying, he grabs his keys and locks car, consequently trapping the boy inside.

The boy presses his face against the glass, miming sorrow. Wren laughs, and Amias snaps to reign in her attention, but he also drifts. From inside the shop, he spots Molly peeking out. When they make eye contact, he sends a withering glare her way. For good measure, he flips her off.

The intruder rolls down the window, studying them.

“Roll it back up,” Amias demands.

“Nah, leave him,” Wren says with a shrug.

“You’re fine with this?”

“Sure, why not? Let’s go inside. It’s not a complicated story, but I want him to tell you, too, and your car isn’t exactly the best place. He’s freaked out about how expensive it is.”

Inside? In Molly’s domain? Amias thinks the fuck not.

“Get back in. We’re going where there aren’t so many witnesses.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

Impossibly, the boy finds no issue with the statement. His compliance makes Amias feel like the worst person in the world as he slides back behind the wheel, intent on driving far, far from the establishment. To dissipate the stifling air, he flips through radio stations before connecting his phone. He scrolls through dozens of playlists, attempting to find one that would suit his assumption of the boy’s taste. He feels like it will be something entirely unexpected. Tedious, Amias deigns to ask.

“Do you have a favorite singer or band?”

“Lady Gaga,” comes his candid response.

And so, the listening party begins with Poker Face. Amias is too mentally exhausted to care when he realizes he accidentally looped the song and it repeats for the ride’s duration. Even more disturbing, the boy doesn’t seem to mind. Amias feels a spark of respect for the boy; he has no room to judge someone who demands to hear Lady Gaga after agreeing to be driven away by a stranger.

He speaks fluently, yet in short, choppy sentences, almost reserved. “I was chased by a dog. Wren allowed me inside, so I came.”

That’s one thing explained; she’s terrified of dogs and would gladly aid anyone suffering similarly. “But that doesn’t explain why you let him in my car.”

“I wouldn’t have if it was something smaller, but it was a labrador.” Leaning in, she tugs Amais down to her height, whispering in his ear. “Also, he was running super fast. It intrigued me.”

Oh. My. God. She has the mental process of a kindgartener when it comes to choosing people to become infatuated with.

Amias indignantly huffs. “So?”

Wren punches his arm, hard. “The kid I was helping set up the computer,” she begins, “is his host family’s son. They just moved to the area from across town because Yanan’s participating in some sports competition thing, and the best training center in the nation just so happens to belong to some local university. Right?”

Nodding, the newly-annointed Yanan beams. He seems eager to share every detail, but Amias lacks the patience for rants and cuts to the chase.

“Great. Nice meeting you, Yanan. Just tell me where you live. I’ll drop you off, but you owe me gas.”

“Money for gas,” adds Wren, clarifying.

Yanan tilts his head and huffs. “Sorry. All my money is still in yuan because I get better rates here - the rate is terrible when you do the exchange at home. I could give it later. Do you have WeChat?”

Amias scoffs; he’ll pass on trusting a stranger’s word. He supposes he must relent his incessant rudeness and be nice for once. Already, he plans for damage control and bribery in the likely case Yanan takes to the internet to share what a major jerk he is.

“Oh, never mind,” he piques. “My host family lives around this area. Thank you, but I’ll walk.”

“Problem solved, then,” Amias says, already dragging Wren to the car. But she halts when she hears her name, Yanan thwarting their escape.

“Wren, right?” Yanan tilts his head. “Let’s get coffee sometime. My treat.” He suggests, offering his phone. The case is obscenely cutesy, an animal with a transparent pocket containing a holographic photo. Stickers decorate the heap of metal and plastic.

“Sure,” says Wren. Weighing the device in her hands, she smiles. “What’d you give me this for? I believe you about the RMB to USD exchange rate being trash, but I think it’s currently seven to one.”

Yanan blanks. “What?”

“Huh?”

Amias releases a delirious laugh and praises the heavens for the first time in his life. Wren is too embarrassed to assume anything about other people’s intentions. She’s not shy and will gladly ask for clarification, but the gears in her brain turn very slowly when confronted with something strange.

He clears his throat, interjecting before she remembers why people give each other phones after making favorable first impressions.

“Come on. Your mom said I need to get you home before three today. She’s bringing over one of your neighbors for that tamale workshop.”

Yanan sneakily glances at his phone. It’s barely 1:05.

“Ooh, Mrs. Garcia. I love that old lady. Are you staying for that?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Successful with his distraction, Amais swipes the phone from her hands and returns it to the mysterious exchange student. He places an arm around her shoulders and guides her back into the car. In the rearview mirror, he sees Yanan shaking his limbs out. Then, he leans down

“He seems like a nice boy,” comments Wren, sticking her hand out the window to view his escape. “If Sieon’s family is hosting him, what university do you think he's attending? What kinda major does he look like?”

Amias shrugs. Their university is down the street, then a conservatory for musicians, then acommunity college. In the next town over, there’s a trade school. He hopes Yanan attends one of the latter two and was only near their campus to tour it.

“I think he’d get along with our friends. It’s too bad we probably might not see him unless it’s through Sieon. People like him don’t live normal lives, do they?” Without allowing him a chance to breathe, she continues. “Do you think he’s doing online classes, holed up in a practice room? Then he practices to bring glory to a state that isn’t even in the same country as his and repeats the entire thing. And when he leaves, it’ll be without experiencing much of anything because he wasted all that time pursuing his craft.”

“Uh… Is that still a questions?” asks Amias, squinting.

“No, just observations. The thought is depressing. But could that be fulfilling to some people?”

Secretly, Amias hopes they’ll never see him again. For a more standard experience in an American university, Yanan should attend their rival school.

“Eh, maybe. You’re reading too much into this one interaction.” He nearly adds that she could always check if he’s on social media if she’s that concerned, but he’d rather enjoy her undivided attention for a moment longer.

Pulling out of the parking lot, Amias steers ahead. They soon come to a stop sign, where Yanan stands, plucking at keys on his phone. Wren rolls down the window and sticks her head out to offer a departing salutation. Yanan laughs, and Amias glares at him through the rearview mirror. Amias sees him reaching up to grab a descending flower. Bringing it to his nose, he waves.

Amias slams on the gas pedal, nearly flying over the speedbump.

“Hey, watch it!” Wren yelps, arms bracing herself against the dashboard.

Already, Wren has launched into a retelling of today’s events. Amias hopes this means she’s forgotten about the strange, new boy, but his dreams are crushed when she slams her head onto the dashboard and screeches, nearly causing him to swerve into a tree. Heart painfully thumping, he stares at her with wide eyes and gritted teeth. It feels like he’ll burst a vein.

“What?” He snarls. “What, Wren? What?”

“Was that dude asking for my number?”

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simsoftianxia · 1 year ago

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Hi! I think Kiroro has a long robe outfit, as does Meng, and then one of the hetalia blogs made one too. Of course, they're all over pants. I'm on a Byzantine hair at the moment and am considering making "my" skirt into an actual outfit. I know it would probably be more Turkic/west asian but some variety...

Thanks for the tips! I am on it! OOOOOooooooo! That would be an awesome contribution to the sims CC world. There's so little of the long robes for guys in game and so much of it in real life! Lmk know if I can help with testing? Is that needed for outfit making?

#asian sims #ask #male clothing #sims 3 simblr

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turkishmughalempress · 3 years ago

Photo

Traditional Azerbaijani clothing

Geleneksel Azerbaycan Türk kıyafetleri

#azerbaijani #azerbaijan #azerbaycan #azerbaijani culture #turkic #turkic people #türkler #azerbaycan türkleri #azerbaycan türk kültürü #türk takıları #azerbaycan takıları #türk eteği #turkic culture #turkic skirt

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gwendolynlerman · 6 years ago

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Discovering the world

Hungary 🇭🇺

Basic facts

Official name: Magyarország

Capital city: Budapest

Population: 9.5 million (2023)

Demonym: Hungarian

Type of government: unitary parliamentary republic

Head of state: Tamás Sulyok (President)

Head of government: Viktor Orbán (Prime Minister)

Gross domestic product (purchasing power parity): $438 billion (2023)

Gini coefficient of wealth inequality: 29% (low) (2023)

Human Development Index: 0.851 (very high) (2022)

Currency: forint (HUF)

Fun fact: It has the largest thermal cave system in the world.

Etymology

The country’s name comes from the Latinized form of the Greek Oungroi, which might be a borrowing from Oghur-Turkic Onogur (“ten [tribes of the] Ogurs”). The H- derives from historical associations from the Huns. The endonym is composed of magyar (“Hungarian”) and ország (“country”).

Geography

Hungary is located in Central Europe and borders Slovakia to the north, Ukraine to the northeast, Romania to the east and southeast, Serbia to the south, Croatia and Slovenia to the southwest, and Austria to the west.

There are two main climates: subtropical highland in the southwest, hot-summer humid continental in the center, and warm-summer humid continental in the rest. Temperatures range from −6 °C (21.2 °F) in winter to 28 °C (82.4 °F) in summer. The average annual temperature is 10.6 °C (51 °F).

The country is divided into nineteen counties (vármegye). The largest cities in Hungary are Budapest, Debrecen, Szeged, Miskolc, and Pécs.

History

6200-4500 BCE: Starčevo–Körös–Criș culture

5500-4500 BCE: Linear Pottery culture

5400-4500 BCE: Vinča culture

5000-4000 BCE: Lengyel culture

4500-4000 BCE: Tiszapolgár culture

4000-3600 BCE: Bodrogkeresztúr culture

3600-2690 BCE: Baden culture

2800-1800 BCE: Bell Beaker culture

1300-750 BCE: Urnfield culture

800-450 BCE: Hallstatt culture

450-1 BCE: La Tène culture

8-433 CE: Roman Empire

469-553: Kingdom of Italy

895-1000: Grand Principality of Hungary

1000-1918: Kingdom of Hungary

1241: Mongol invasion

1366-1526: Hungarian-Ottoman Wars

1541-1699: Ottoman Hungary

1570-1711: Principality of Transylvania

1703-1711: Rákóczi’s War of Independence

1848: Hungarian Revolution

1867-1918: Austro-Hungarian Empire

1918-1919: Hungarian People’s Republic; Hungarian-Romanian War

1919-1920: Hungarian Republic

1920-1946: Kingdom of Hungary

1946-1949: Hungarian Republic

1949-1989: Hungarian People’s Republic

1989-present: Hungary

Economy

Hungary mainly imports from Germany, Austria, and China and exports to Germany, Romania, and Italy. Its top exports are motor cars, animal feed, and sunflower oil.

It has bauxite, coal, and natural gas reserves. Services represent 64.8% of the GDP, followed by industry (31.1%) and agriculture (3.9%).

Hungary is a member of the Council of Europe, the European Union, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, and the Visegrád Group.

Demographics

Ethnic Hungarians represent 87.9% of the population, followed by the Roma (2.2%) and Germans (1.5%). The main religion is Christianity, practiced by 42.5% of the population, 29.2% of which is Catholic.

It has a positive net migration rate and a fertility rate of 1.5 children per woman. 73% of the population lives in urban areas. Life expectancy is 76.1 years and the median age is 42 years. The literacy rate is 99%.

Languages

The official language of the country is Hungarian, spoken by 99.6% of the population. English is spoken by 16% of the population. There are several recognized minority languages: Armenian, Bulgarian, Croatian, German, Greek, Romani, Romanian, Rusyn, Serbian, Slovak, Slovene, and Ukrainian.

Culture

Spas, ceramics, and embroidery are important parts of Hungarian culture. Hungarians are introverted, but also very direct.

Men traditionally wear a white shirt, a black vest, wide pants (gatya), black boots, and a black brimmed hat. Women wear a baggy, short-sleeved blouse, a vest (mellrevaló), a layered skirt (rokolya), and a coif with a veil.

Architecture

Traditional houses in Hungary have white walls, thatched roofs, high ceilings, and motifs on the facade.

Cuisine

The Hungarian diet is based on bread, dairy products, meat, and vegetables. Typical dishes include csirkepaprikás (chicken stew with paprika and sour cream), dobostorta (a sponge cake layered with chocolate buttercream and caramel), gulyás (a meat and vegetable stew with paprika), rakott krumpli (potato casserole with bacon, eggs, onions, paprika, quark cheese, sour cream, and spicy sausage), and túrós csusza (noodles with quark cheese).

Holidays and festivals

Like other Christian countries, Hungary celebrates Good Friday, Easter Monday, Whit Monday, All Saints’ Day, Christmas Day, and Second Day of Christmas. It also commemorates New Year’s Day and Labor Day.

Specific Hungarian holidays include National Day on March 15 and October 23, and State Foundation Day on August 20.

National Day

Other celebrations include the Bondoró Festival, which features bands, circus artists, flamethrowers, and marionettes; the Busó Walking of Mohács, when people wear scary masks, and the Debrecen Flower Carnival.

Busó Walking of Mohács

Landmarks

There are eight UNESCO World Heritage Sites: Budapest, including the Banks of the Danube, the Buda Castle Quarter and Andrássy Avenue, Caves of Aggtelek Karst and Slovak Karst, Early Christian Necropolis of Pécs, Fertö/Neusiedlersee Cultural Landscape, Hortobágy National Park, Millenary Benedictine Abbey of Pannonhalma and its Natural Environment, Old Village of Hollókő and its Surroundings, and Tokaj Wine Region Historic Cultural Landscape.

Hortobágy National Park

Other landmarks include the Caves of Lillafüred, the Dohany Synagogue, the Esztergom Castle, the Pécs Cathedral, and the Széchenyi Bridge.

Dohany Synagogue

Famous people

Barbara Palvin - model

Bela Lugosi - actor

Ferenc Puskás - soccer player

Franz Liszt - composer and pianist

Harry Houdini - illusionist and stunt performer

Judit Polgár - chess player

Katinka Hosszú - swimmer

Myra Monoka - singer

Tommy Ramone - musician

Zsa Zsa Gabor - actress

Judit Polgár

You can find out more about life in Hungary in this article and this video.

#discoveringtheworld #langblr #hungarian

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silvanatrevisani · 2 years ago

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Fengyu Jiangshan _ Pai Pai Novel

The book is not thick, but the content is profound and difficult, Xihuang while looking carefully while deliberating, unconsciously has passed a long time. She put the book on her knee and pressed the continued to wander, even every wall beam. Inadvertently swept the roof, unexpectedly found that there is a moderate roof window above, the sun shines obliquely from the window,custom cosmetic packing, in which the dust flutters. Xi Huang clung to the glazed tiles on the eaves and leaned out half of his body from the window. Sure enough, he saw Wanyan Che sitting on the ridge of the roof, looking into the distance. Hey, is the view nice here? Xi Huang raised his voice and sat down on the eaves with a light arm. Wanyan Che was called by her, and he came to his senses. When he saw her climbing up to the roof, he couldn't help feeling nervous. "What are you doing up here?"? Slide down carefully. He quickly stood up, bent over and stepped slowly down on the colorful glazed tiles, and held out his hand to her at arm's length. Xi Huang is not concerned,plastic laminated tube, she also climbed a lot of the roof, which will be so bad to slide down. She lifted her skirt and held his outstretched hand. How did you know I was on the roof? I thought if you couldn't find me, I would go first. He helped her to the roof beam. Xi Huang lowered his head and walked carefully, "I don't think you should leave without saying hello." She was speaking unintentionally, but he was listening intentionally. "What if you can't find it all the time?" His voice suddenly became very soft, and there was some expectation in it. The ridge of the roof is carved into a dragon, the head of the dragon is roaring up to the sky, and the phoenix bends down and touches the exquisite carving. If she couldn't find Wanyan Che again just now, she would probably leave. I didn't find it. Xihuang turned and sat on the roof ridge, holding his knees in his hands and breathing a long breath. Wanyan Che smiled and sat down next to her, and they stopped talking. Xihuang looked into the distance, this height can almost overlook the entire Turkic court, the palace pavilion stretches far away, the end is a dense green, polyfoil tube ,custom cosmetic packaging, covering the red walls and yellow tiles. She had not really appreciated the world beyond the wall. Do you have a flute? Wanyan Che suddenly opened his mouth. Xi Huang was stunned and turned Although everyone was indignant for the empress, they were more or less gloating. Even the simple Qiya noticed a trace of smoke and suddenly fell silent. Jing Mu wanted to see Xi Huang dance very much, so he could not help saying a few words beside him. The emperor, who had been silent all the time, suddenly opened his mouth and said in a cold voice, "What's there to see? It's really nonsense." Listen to the emperor's meaning, I'm afraid there is no good play to see, someone's face shows the color of shyness, Xihuang swept the wonderful expression on the faces of the imperial concubines in the palace, and rose lightly from the chair. Does the emperor really not want to see it? Xihuang walked to the emperor's side, raised the pot to pour wine,eye cream packing tube, filled the jade cup in front of him, and handed it to him with a charming smile and a charming voice. "If the emperor really doesn't want to see it, I will never dance again.". emptycosmetictubes.com

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betheflare · 7 years ago

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I See You

Name: Kyrgyzstan

Capital: Bishkek

Motto: No offical motto

Location: Central Asia

Population: 6,132,932 (2018)

Religion: Islam, Christianity (Russian Orthodox)

Climate: Varieties regionally

Language(s) Spoken: Kyrgyz and Russian

Currency: Sumo

Independence Day: August 31, 1991

Flag meaning: The red field stands for "bravery and valor. The sun epitomizes peace and prosperity, while its 40 rays stand for the number of tribes united by Manas to fight against the Mongols, as well as the number of followers he had.

The centre of the sun features a stylized illustration of the roof (tunduk) atop a traditional Kyrgyz tent (yurt) when viewed from the interior. Although these tents are less commonly used today, its incorporation into the flag is meant to symbolize the "origin of life", the "unity of time and space", as well as the people's "hearth and home" and their history.

Brief History

The Kyrgyz state reached its greatest expansion after defeating the Uyghur Khaganate in 840 A.D. From the 10th century the Kyrgyz migrated as far as the Tian Shan range and maintained their dominance over this territory for about 200 years.

In the twelfth century the Kyrgyz dominion had shrunk to the Altay Range andSayan Mountains as a result of the Mongol expansion.

With the rise of the Mongol Empire in the thirteenth century, the Kyrgyz migrated south.

The Kyrgyz peacefully became a part of the Mongol Empire in 1207.

The descent of the Kyrgyz from the autochthonous Siberian population, on the other hand, is confirmed by recent genetic studies.

Because of the processes of migration, conquest, intermarriage, and assimilation, many of the Kyrgyz peoples who now inhabit Central and Southwest Asia are of mixed origins, often stemming from fragments of many different tribes, though they now speak closely related languages.

Kyrgyz tribes were overrun in the 17th century by the Mongols, in the mid-18th century by the Manchurian Qing Dynasty, and in the early 19th century by the Uzbek Khanate of Kokand.

In the late nineteenth century, the eastern part of what is today Kyrgyzstan, mainly Issyk-Kul Region, was ceded to Russian Empire through the Treaty of Tarbagatai between China and Russia.

The Russian takeover was met with numerous revolts against Tsarist authority, and many of the Kyrgyz opted to move to the Pamir Mountains and Afghanistan.

The suppression of the 1916 rebellion against Russian rule in Central Asia caused many Kyrgyz later to migrate to China.

Soviet Kyrgyzstan

Soviet power was initially established in the region in 1919, and the Kara-Kyrgyz Autonomous Oblast was created within the Russian SFSR. On 5 December 1936, the Kirghiz Soviet Socialist Republic was established as a full republic of the Soviet Union.

Many aspects of Kyrgyz national culture were retained despite the suppressionof nationalist activity under Joseph Stalin, who controlled the Soviet Union fromthe late 1920s until 1953.

The Republic's press was permitted to adopt a more liberal stance and toestablish a new publication, Literaturny Kirghizstan, by the Union of Writers.

According to the last Soviet census in 1989, ethnic Kyrgyz made up only 22% ofthe residents of the northern city of Frunze, while more than 60% wereRussians, Ukrainians, and people from other Slavic nations.

On 15 December 1990, the Supreme Soviet voted to change the republic'sname to the Republic of Kyrgyzstan.

Despite these political moves toward independence, economic realities seemedto work against secession from the Soviet Union.

In a referendum on the preservation of the Soviet Union in March 1991, 88.7% of the voters approved the proposal to retain the Soviet Union as a "Renewedfederation".

Secessionist forces pushed Kyrgyzstan's independence through in August of thatsame year.

After the coup collapsed the following week, Akayev and Vice President German Kuznetsov announced their resignations from the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, and the entire bureau and secretariat resigned.

This was followed by the Supreme Soviet vote declaring independence from theSoviet Union on 31 August 1991 as the Republic of Kyrgyzstan.

Geography

Kyrgyzstan is a landlocked country in Central Asia, bordering Kazakhstan, China, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. The mountainous region of the Tian Shan covers over 80% of the country (Kyrgyzstan is occasionally referred to as "the Switzerland of Central Asia", as a result), with the remainder made up of valleys and basins.

Issyk-Kul Lake, or Ysyk-Köl in Kyrgyz, in the north-eastern Tian Shan is the largest lake in Kyrgyzstan and the second largest mountain lake in the world after Titicaca.

The highest peaks are in the Kakshaal-Too range, forming the Chinese border.

Kyrgyzstan has significant deposits of metals including gold and rare-earth metals.

The second city is the ancient town of Osh, located in the Fergana Valley near the border with Uzbekistan.

The principal river is the Kara Darya, which flows west through the Fergana Valley into Uzbekistan.

Across the border in Uzbekistan it meets another major Kyrgyz river, the Naryn.

The Chu River also briefly flows through Kyrgyzstan before entering Kazakhstan.

Culture

The nation's largest ethnic group are the Kyrgyz, a Turkic people, who comprise 73.2% of the population.

Other ethnic groups include Russians concentrated in the north and Uzbeks living in the south.

Small but noticeable minorities include Dungans (Muslim Chinese), Uyghurs, Tajiks, Kazakhs, and Ukrainians and other smaller ethnic minorities.

The Kyrgyz have historically been semi-nomadic herders, living in round tents called yurts and tending sheep, horses and yaks. This nomadic tradition continues to function seasonally as herding families return to the high mountain pasture (or jailoo) in the summer.

Dress

The main materials for making clothes were coarse wool, felt, fur and leather. The noble families could afford expensive clothes made of fabrics from thetowns of the Great Silk Road. The outerwear is called "Chapan". In winter nomads wore sheepskin coat named "Ton" and fur coats "Ichiks" made of fox fur, wolf or lynx.

Men wore wide trousers made of leather or suede, embroidered with colored threads, shirts and felt robe. Married women wore skirts with fur and patterned embroidery.

Literacy

Manas is an orally transmitted epic poem told by manaschis, and the name of the epic's eponymous hero. The poem, with close to half a million lines, is twenty times longer than Homer's Odyssey, and one of the longest epics in the world. It is a patriotic work recounting the exploits of Manas and his descendants and followers, who, according to tradition, fought against the Chinese and Kalmyks in the 9th century to preserve Kyrgyz independence.

(Here’s Manas poem if you’re interested in reading)

Chingiz Aytmatov is often referred to as a national writer of Kyrgyzstan. Kenesh Jusupov is also a prominent Kyrgyz writer

Some phrases in Kyrgz ( Кыргыз тили) + their English meaning

Welcome - Кош келиңиз! (Kosh kelingiz!) - sg/frm

Кош келиңиздер! (Kosh kelingizder!) - pl/frm

Hello (General greeting) - Салам! (Salam!) - sg/inf

Саламатсыңбы! (Salamatsyngby!) - sg/inf

Саламатсыңарбы! (Salamatsyngarby!) - sg/inf

Саламатсызбы! (Salamatsyzby!) - sg/frm

Саламатсыздарбы! (Salamatsyzdarby!) - pl/frm

Reply - Саламатчылык! (Salamatchylyk) - reply/frm

Алейкум Ассалам! (Aleykum Assalam!) - reply

Саламат! (Salamat!) - short reply

Саламатчылык! (Salamatchylyk) - full reply

How are you?- Кандайсың? (Kandaysyng?) - sg/inf

Кандайсыз? (Kandaysyz?) - sg/frm

Сиздин ишиңиз кандай? (Sizdin ishingiz kanday?) - sg/frm

Ден соолугуңуз кандай? (Den soolugunguz kanday?) - sg/frm

Жакшысыңбы? (Jakshysyngby?) - sg/inf

Жакшысызбы? (Jakshysyzby?) - sg/frm

Reply to 'How are you?- Жакшы, рахмат. Өзүңүз кандайсыз?(Jakshy, rakhmat)

Özüngüz (kandaysyz?) - sg/frm

What's your name?- Сенин атың ким? (Senin atyng kim?) - sg/inf

Сиздин атыңыз ким? (Sizdin atyngyz kim?) - sg/frm

My name is … - Менин атым ... (Menin atym ...)

Where are you from?- Сиз кайдан келдиңиз? (Siz kaydan keldingiz?) - sg/frm

I'm from … - Мен ...-дан келдим (Men ...-dan keldim)

Pleased to meet you- Таанышканыма кубанычтамын! (Taanyshkanyma kubanychtamyn!)

Good morning- Кутмандуу таңыңыз менен! (Kutmanduu tanyngyz menen!) - sg/frm

Good afternoon- Кутмандуу күнүңүз менен! (Kutmanduu kününgüz menen!) - sg/frm

Good evening- Кайырлуу кеч! (Kayryluu kech!)

Good night- Түнүңүз бейпил болсун! (Tününgüz beypil bolsun!) - sg/frm

Goodbye- Көрүшкөнчө (Körüshkönchö) - inf

Саламатта бар (Salamatta bar) - sg/inf (if a person leaving)

Саламатта барыңыз (Salamatta baryngyz) - sg/frm

Саламатта баргыла (Salamatta bargyla) - pl/inf

Саламатта барыңыздар (Salamatta baryngyzdar) - pl/frm

Cuisine

The cuisine of Kyrgyzstan is similar in many respects to that of its neighbors, particularly Kazakh cuisine.

Traditional Kyrgyz food revolves around mutton (Goat meat) and horse meat, as well as various dairy products.

Kyrgyzstan is home to many different nationalities and their various cuisines.

In larger cities, such as Bishkek, Osh, Jalal-Abad, and Karakol, various national and international cuisines can be found.

On the road and in the villages, the cuisine tends to be standard Kyrgyz dishes, liberally flavored with oil or sheep fat, which are considered both delicious and healthy by the local population.

Pilaf (paloo) is the national dish in Kyrgyzstan. Green tea is considered the national beverage.

Interesting Facts about Kyrgyz Republic

1. Kyrgyzstan’s walnut forests are among the world’s largest natural forests of this type.

2. “Manas,” a narration of the migration of the Kyrgyz under the Manas leadership, is one of the world’s longest epics.

3. The city of Osh was an important commercial center in the 10th century as part of the Silk Road, the trade route between China and Europe.

4. The Inylchek Glacier of Kyrgyzstan is one of the largest glaciers in the world.

5. The name Kyrgyz is derived from the Kyrgyz word for “forty.” It is a possibility that the people of Kyrgyzstan came from forty families or clans.

6. The Kyrgyz were one of the groups who raided the borders of China and created the need for the construction of the Great Wall.

7. Be careful in the cities of Osh, Jalal-Abad, and Bishkek. The roads and sidewalks are filled with holes and uncovered sewers.

8. Kyrgyzstan is one of the few countries that have a currency with a denomination of 3 som.

9.The most famous national drink is horse milk “kumyz”

10.Illegal, but still practiced, is the tradition of bride kidnapping

It is debatable whether bride kidnapping is actually traditional. Some of the confusion may stem from the fact that arranged marriages were traditional, and one of the ways to escape an arranged marriage was to arrange a consensual "kidnapping."

watch Geograohy Now’s video for anything I’ve missed

Questions of the day (QOTD)

- Have you heard of Kyrgyzstan before? If not whats your favorite thing about it?

- Do you speak/understand Russian or think of adding Kyrgyz to your target language list?

- Which country should be next in I See You project?

(To read my previous post about Vanuatu)

PLEASE DO INFORM ME IF YOU FIND ANY MISTAKE

#ISY mini project #langblr #Languageblr #languages #kyrgyzstan #kyrgyz republic #I See You #asian #asia #central asia #geography #History #polyglot

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omgellendean · 4 years ago

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This post and the notes are already great, but just to add a bit more variety: some examples of people in Russian clothing dealing with their skirts.

Notice that the woman's shirt has a richly embroidered hem, which means it's supposed to be shown.

But a plain shirt is also ok.

It works with the ponyova (a homespun woollen skirt) too, even though it’s not really long to begin with:

Here embroidery is made on the inner side of the ponyova because it is supposed to be worn tucked in (similarly to the 17th-century mantua).

It's important to understand that people in the past appreciated their comfort as much as we do now, even if they used different methods to achieve it.

It's also important to remember that the dichotomy of "trousers vs skirt" isn't universal. At least in some of the Turkic ethnicities, both male and female traditional clothing combines some sort of pants with the long shirt, so for them the premise of this post wouldn’t exist at all.

Source for all pictures: РУССКИЙ ТРАДИЦИОННЫЙ КОСТЮМ https://vk.com/album-4367359_132150389 (sorry for weird formatting, I still can’t add working links)

Feminist fantasy is funny sometimes in how much it wants to shit on femininity for no goddamned reason. Like the whole “skirts are tools of the patriarchy made to cripple women into immobility, breeches are much better” thing.

(Let’s get it straight: Most societies over history have defaulted to skirts for everyone because you don’t have to take anything off to relieve yourself, you just have to squat down or lift your skirts and go. The main advantage of bifurcated garments is they make it easier to ride horses. But Western men wear pants so women wearing pants has become ~the universal symbol of gender equality~)

The book I’m reading literally just had its medievalesque heroine declare that peasant women wear breeches to work in the field because “You can’t swing a scythe in a skirt!”

Hm yes story checks out

peasant women definitely never did farm labour in skirts

skirts definitely mean you’re weak and fragile and can’t accomplish anything

skirts are definitely bad and will keep you from truly living life

no skirts for anyone, that’s definitely the moral of the story here

#long post #history #art #writing #fashion history #traditional clothing #reference #my post

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thisisnotchina · 8 years ago

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Ilshat Hassan, president of the Washington-based Uyghur American Association, told RFA that Beijing is attempting to skirt its own laws by labeling the new policy part of a bilingual education, while it works to “eradicate one of the most ancient Turkic languages in the world.” “In fact, by enforcing this new policy at the preschool level, the Chinese government intends to kill the Uyghur language at the cradle,” he said. “It is nothing short of cultural genocide. The international community must not allow China to destroy our beautiful language and culture, which has thrived for several millennia.”

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teesturtle · 4 years ago

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#Teesturtle #Turtle Tees #Trend T-shirt #Funny T-shirts

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kidsviral-blog · 7 years ago

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Men Are Wearing Miniskirts To Protest The Killing Of A Woman Who Fought Off A Rapist

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/men-are-wearing-miniskirts-to-protest-the-killing-of-a-woman-who-fought-off-a-rapist/

Men Are Wearing Miniskirts To Protest The Killing Of A Woman Who Fought Off A Rapist

While women have led the protests against the tragic murder of Ã–zgecan Aslan, men have also taken a stand against violence against women.

1. In response to the murder of 20-year-old Ã–zgecan Aslan in Turkey — who was killed after reportedly fighting off a rape attempt — men are posting photos of themselves wearing mini skirts in a sign of support for women’s rights.

Eylem gibi eylem #EteÄŸiniGiyTaksimeGel bu tagÄ± kullanalÄ±m dostlar.

— RedHackETC (@RedHack ETC â˜…)

2. This week, men began using the hashtag #ozgecanicinminietekgiy — which roughly translates to “wear a miniskirt for Ozgecan” — and sharing selfies of themselves wearing mini-skirts holding signs of support.

Facebook Post.

facebook.com

3. According to a BBC report, the trend began in neighbouring Azerbaijan on Wednesday, and over 1,500 people have used it so far.

Azerbaijan citizens speak a Turkic language and the country has strong cultural ties to Turkey.

On Facebook, one comment summarised the reasoning behind the campaign: “If a miniskirt is responsible for everything, if wearing a miniskirt means immorality and unchastity, if a woman who wears a miniskirt is sending an invitation about what will happen to her, then we are also sending an invitation!”

View this embed ›

Facebook Post.

facebook.com

View this image ›

Facebook.com

Azerbaycan’da Erkek,Ã–zgecan Ã–ldÃ¼rÃ¼lmesini Protesto Etmek Ä°Ã§in Facebook’ta #ozgecanicinminietekgiy KampanyasÄ± BaÅŸlattÄ±

— BerilDeniz77 (@BerilDeniz)

8. It hasn’t just been men, either.

#ozgecanicinminietekgiy

— semrahabiboglu (@Semra HABÄ°BOÄžLU)

9. Since last weekend, protests against the shocking murder of Ã–zgecan Aslan have taken place in a number of cities in the region.

View this image ›

AFP / Getty Images / OZAN KOSEf

10. According to local media reports, Aslan is thought to have been murdered on 11 February by a minibus driver after he attempted to rape her.

Her body was found in a creek two days later, and she was laid to rest on 14 February, Valentine’s Day.

11. Earlier this week, many people began sharing selfies of themselves dressed in black clothing to protest against Aslan’s death.

instagram.com

12. Others took to Twitter to express their grief, using the hashtag #sendeanlat (you tell your story) to open up the conversation about violence against women.

#sendeanlat in some parts of the world women “ask to be raped” just by leaving their homes! RIP Ozgecan Aslan

— ReemaHarfoushi (@Reema Harfoushi)

Walking away from Taksim one night I was punched in the breast by a guy. And that’s in a “liberal” tourist area #sendeanlat (#tellyourstory)

— HunterSony (@Sonya D)

Wearing mini skirt, tight, laughing loudly, putting on red lipstick seem like reason of rape in Turkey. #sendeanlat

— SimalCinarr (@Åžimal Ã‡Ä±nar)

15. Hundreds of women also defied a request from an iman to take a step back during Aslan’s funeral. Instead, they carried her coffin and led her funeral prayer.

The other and true face of women in #Turkey. Here carrying #OzgecanAslan coffin which was raped and murdered.

— ArianeBonzon (@Ariane Bonzon)

16. Aslan’s tragic murder led to Turkey’s leaders vowing to take action over the “open wound” of violence against women.

#ozgecanaslan …. No violence to women !! Let’s girls live with dignity and love ðŸ™ðŸ™ðŸ™

— Guy_Moussi (@Guy MOUSSI)

17.

How The Murder Of A Young Woman Took Turkey To A Social Tipping Point

buzzfeed.com

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/rossalynwarren/rest-in-peace-ozgecan-aslan

#selfie #social media #zgecan Aslan

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trekkinginpakistan · 7 years ago

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New Post has been published on Trekking in Pakistan

New Post has been published on http://bit.ly/2gHMALB

Broghil and Karambar An

Duration 10 days Distance 125. 7km Standard moderate Season June-September Start Lasht Finish Bort Zone and Permit restricted, US$50 permit Public Transport yes Summary An historic caravan route through Broghil’s lake- and peak- dotted landscape crosses a gentle lake- crowned pass, traversing from the Hindu Raj Range to the Karakoram.

The Karambar An (4320m) links Chitral’s Yarkhun Valley with Ghizar’s Karambar Valley. The trek up the Yarkhun River headwaters passes through picturesque Broghil, an area dotted with green meadows and small lakes, and populated by yak- heading Wakhi. Karambar An is, apart from the Deosai Plains, Pakistan’s largest alpine meadow. At the crest of these well- watered grasslands are several pristine lakes. Over 1000 years ago, Chinese Pilgrims travelling south in search of Buddhist teachings wrote of a ‘wild onion’ pass. This may have been the Karambar An, where wild onions abound.

The trek is often preceded by the Shah Jinali An trek (p) and followed by the Chilinji An and Qalander Uween trek (p), making a spectacular traverse of Pakistan’s northernmost borders over the passes.

Planning

Maps

The highly reliable US AMS 1: 250, 000 topographic map Mastuj (NJ 43- 13) shows the Yarkhun Valley and Broghil Pass. The Baltit (NJ 43- 14) sheet is the only readily available map showing Broghil and the Karambar An. It doesn’t show the Karambar lakes and slightly alters place names. It labels Shuwor Sheer as Shuwar Shur, Qul Quldi as Qiu Quldi, Boree Mergich as Margach, and Rabot as Ribat. It doesn’t show top Khana. It calls the river following west from the Karambar An the Ribat Bar. Local people call it Karambar Chhat (valley of Karambar Lake).

Permits and Regulations

This trek is in a restricted zone where a permit and licensed guide are required (see Trekking permits,). Police in Lasht and limit, and the Chitral Scouts in Ishkarwaz may ask to see your permit.

Guides and Porters

Chitrali porters ask for Rs 1500 per day, including payment for food rations. The constantly changing Chattiboi and Karambar glaciers are tricky and require route- finding, so hire a nearby herder to show the way.

Stages

The stages system isn’t instituted on this trek, but it’s begun to take hold. Between Lasht and Karambar Lake, each day is roughly equivalent to a stage. In Karambar, Chitralis ask for three stages between Sokhter Rabot and Bort.

GETTING TO/FROM THE TREK

To the Start

The road goes as far as Lutgaz, just beyond Lasht but, in summer, high water may block the road near Sholkuch. When it’s blocked, walk along the road. It takes two days (and two stages) to walk between Sholkuch and Lasht, so allow time for this possibility. Chitral- Mastuj jeeps. Mastuj- Lasht special hires and Chitral- Lasht. In Lasht, the Shushar Gol occasionally blocks the road, leaving 45 minutes’ walk to Lutgaz on Lasht’s north end.

From the Finish

The road goes as far as Bort, but in summer, high water may block the road at Bilhanz. When it’s blocked, walk along the road, fording side streams as needed. It takes four hours to walk between Bort and Bilhanz. One stage is fixed between Bort and Bad Swat. You may have to pay for an additional partial stage between Bad Swat and Bilhanz.

Jeeps to Gilgit from Bort, from Bilhanz and from lmit. Special hires from Bort, from Bilhanz, and from Imit. Alternatively, you can walk or take a Jeep to Chatorkhand and get on a NATCO bus to Gilgit.

THE TREK

Day 1 : Lasht to Kishmanja

5½- 6½ hours, 16km, 252m ascent

Delight Lutgaz (3048m, ‘big grass’ in Khowar), with its abundant springs and splendid view of the Shotor (camel) Glacier across the wide Yarkhun River, is the trek’s staging ground. Follow a good trail along the Yarkhun’s true right bank 50 minutes to the outskirts of Zirch village. Across the valley, large glaciers descend from snowy peaks. Cross a large alluvial fan and ford the Kan Khun Gol’s several shallow channels after another 45 minutes. The trail bends east as it ascends, reaching the small settlement along the clear Bazhdung Gol in 30 minutes. The trail climbs 15 minutes to a saddle, then descends for 15 minutes to the small settlement and clear springs of Romenu. The high- water trail, usually used during July and August, climbs the hillside above the river. The low- water trail stays in the river beyond Romenu, around the base of rock ridge, then along the base of scree slopes.

Reach an alluvial fan, one hour from Romenu, called Ishkore Kunj. Continue 30 minutes across this area, then 15 minutes through a large stand of trees. Beyond, skirt a scree slope at the river’s edge and reach the Wakhi settlement of Kishmanja (3300m) in 30 minutes. Kishmanja, with its spring, is run by Momin, who collects a camping fee

Day 2 : Kishmanja to Ishkarwaz

4½- 5½ hours, 12. 9km, 210m ascent

Cross the stream at Kishmanja’s east end via a footbridge and traverse a large scree slope above the river. At the base of the scree, 45 minutes from Kishmanja, are some springs and willow trees and a great view across the valley of Koyo Zom (6872m), which Broghil villagers call Ghaliyat. It was first climbed in 1968 by an Austrain expedition. Continue for another hour to a juniper- dotted plain. After 10 minutes the trail turns sharply left and climbs 10 minutes to Vidinkot, with a clear stream and several houses. A footbridge over the Yarkhun River leads to the village of Garam Chashma, called Pechugh in Khowar, and a hot spring.

From Vidinkot, stay on the trail along the Yarkhun’s true right (north) bank with great views of the enormous Chattiboi Glacier (not to be confused with a glacier of the same name in the Karambar Valley) for 30 minutes and cross the footbridge to its true left (south) side. Here you’re directly opposite the Chattiboi Glacier’s snout, which protrudes into the Yarkhun River calving off in massive chunks.

The trail divides 10 minutes beyond the footbridge. The right fork leads in one hour to Chikar and the trail south- east to Darkot An (see the Karambar An and Darkot An trek,). Take the left fork, following the Yarkhun River 15 minutes to a house and fields, with a small trickle of water. Another hour leads to the Chitral Scouts post at Ishkarwaz. Camp in the grassy area (3510m) with a small spring above the river, just east of the footbridge spanning the gorge. From the ridge above Ishkarwaz are views of the Broghil Pass to the north, and the Darkot Glacier and Chattiboi icefall to the south.

Side Trip : Broghil Pass

3- 5 hours, 13km, 90m ascent, 90m descent

Ask at the Chital Scouts Post in Ishkarwaz for permission to visit the Broghil Pass (3600m) for a day. You can rent horses in Chilma Rabot or Ghari.

Day 3 : Ishkarwaz to Tir-e- Dasht

6- 7 hours, 17. 9km, 180m ascent, 210m descent

Cross the footbridge and climb gently 30 to 45 minutes to Chilma Rabot (3570m), a south- facing village, spread out amid open, terraced fields with the Broghil stream passing through the middle of the village.

Continue through grasslands above true right bank, as the river runs through a gorge with two watchtowers perched high above the opposite bank, one hour to picturesque Garhil (sheep pen by the rock), a settlement with a spring by big rocks north of the trail. From Garhil, the Darwaza Pass leads north into Afghanistan’s Wakhan Corridor and is closed to foreigners, Although Wakhi riders regularly cross the pass during summer.

Continue along the level trail one hour, skirting, peat bogs. A newer trail carved from the river terrace parallels the river and leads in another hour to Thin Yupk (3690m, ‘hot water’ in Wakhi), where a hot spring flows into a small warm lake. (In low water, you can proceed from Garhil up the main river valley to Thin Yupk, but in high water avoid this route because of the seven or eight difficult fords.) From Thin Yupk, the trail goes over a low hill 30 minutes to a grassy swale with a clear stream. Continue 15 minutes past two picturesque ponds, then 15 minutes more onto the plain below Lashkargah Goz (3660m), where 22 Wakhi households are spread out along the hillside. Lashkar means ‘army’, gah, a ‘place’ and goz, ‘grass’, and the plain is a perfect place for an army to camp and graze its horses. This is the winter home of Broghil’s nambardar Umar Rafi, son of the late Mirza Rafi. The Wakhi in Broghil are sadly much Habituated to opium. On their plentiful grasslands, they produce surplus livestock. With the money they earn from selling it, some buy opium to while away the cold winter months.

Continue along the base of hills on the valley’s north side to a mill house along a stream. Head up a short narrow defile along a clear stream, passing a large spring. The defile opens onto a large peat bog and the grassy camp site of Tir-e- Dasht (3480m), 1½ hours beyond Lashkargah Goz.

Days 4- 5 : Tir-e- Dasht to Karambar Lake

5½- 6½ hours, 16. 9km, 840m ascent, 60m descent

Ascend the rolling hills for 45 minutes to three summer settlement: Shuwor Sheer (3690m), the first and largest; Yirgot Maidan (bearded vulture’s plain), higher on the eastern hillside; and Top Khana, 10 minutes’ walk beyond Shuwor Sheer at the base of a rocky hill. A level, grassy camp site by a clear stream lies between Shuwor Sheer and Top Khana. Top Khana (cannon house) is named for the crumbling hill- top fort, which once commanded the entrance to Karambar Chhat. Across the broad valley from Top Khana is the Zindikharam Glacier. Wakhi people here speak Khowar as their second language with a smattering of Urdu and Persian. Dairy products are abundant.

The beautiful Karambar lakes lie 10km up the gentle Karambar Chhat. Clear water is abundant from streams and springs along this good trail. In one hour reach Qul Quldi, a Wakhi settlement with a Turkic name, situated atop a rock outcrop south of the trail above the river.

Shortly beyond Qul Quldi, pass the huts of Lale Rabot, which perch on the northern hillside high above the trail, and cross a clear stream just beyond. The huts at Thur Mergich (3990m), a large summer settlement, are almost hidden from view south of (below) the trail along a clear stream one hour from Qul Quldi. Boree Mergich lies beyond another stream one hour from Thur Mergich. Rabot’s two crumbling huts lie beyond another stream one hour from Boree Mergich.

This entire valley is considered mergich by the Wakhi, a term that means ‘a pure, clean place where female fairy spirits (pari) dwell’. Thirty minutes beyond Rabot, a large cairn marks the Karambar An (4320m). The western, smaller lake lies 15 minutes farther on and is considered to the much larger lake by a stream that flows through another small lake. Follow the stream another 15 minutes to a large boulder with a cairn over- looking the largest lake. Several stone porters’ shelters Cluster around the boulder’s base. Several excellent camp sites lie near the west end of the enormous blue Karambar Lake (4260m).

Enjoy a rest day at this remarkable spot. It takes 1¼ hours to walk along the lake’s north shore. Above its south shore is Zhui Sar, a snowy peak with a glacier that falls into the lake itself.

Days 6- 10 : Karambar Lake to Bort

4 days, 62km, 1532m descent

To head to Gilgit, descend the Karambar Valley, camping at Shuyinj, Sokhter Rabot, Waraghut and Maturamdan en route to Bort ( for details, see Days 1- 6 of the Karambar An and Darkot An trek, in the reverse direction).

#10 days #August #July #June #moderate #September

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