How I ended up in Kyrgyzstan is actually a funny story. My dad works in Bishkek, the capital city of Kyrgyzstan, and kept calling me to visit him during the holidays. Me being a stubborn 21-year-old didn’t want to spend my 15 days of freedom alone with my parents, so I tried every trick I knew to stay back with my friends in Delhi. However, all my plans failed, and in the end, my flight was booked to Kyrgyzstan. I didn’t know that the trip I was dreading would turn into the perfect peace I was longing for in my chaotic life.
What I found was more than I ever expected: unspoiled valleys where eagles soar above, silent alpine lakes reflecting the sky perfectly, and families who still live in yurts and ride horses to herd sheep. It wasn’t just a trip. It felt like stepping into another rhythm of life, one that’s been quietly pulsing for centuries, far from the noise of city streets and selfie sticks.
Most people would probably struggle to point it out on a map, and that’s part of the magic. With over 90 per cent of its terrain covered in mountains, Kyrgyzstan feels like it’s been carved out for people who crave the kind of quiet that only open landscapes can offer. And yet, getting there was easier than I thought.
For Indian travellers, the country is incredibly accessible. My parents applied for my e-visa online, paid somewhere between INR 3,500 and INR 5,000, and received approval within days. The local currency, the Kyrgyzstani Som, is close in value to the Indian rupee, which meant I didn’t have to stress about blowing my budget.
And what really won me over? This is a place that still breathes its history. Nomadic traditions aren’t staged performances—they’re part of everyday life. I watched men braid horse reins by hand and women stitch felt rugs just as their grandmothers had. There’s something grounding about seeing a culture that hasn’t traded its identity for tourism.
I began my trip in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan’s capital. I’ll be honest—it didn’t charm me instantly. It’s a city built during the Soviet era, and you can feel it in the architecture: boxy buildings, wide boulevards, and a kind of functional grayness. But give it a day or two, and the soul of the place begins to reveal itself.
Ala-Too Square, the political and cultural heart of the city, is also where the national museum is located. Just a short walk away is Osh Bazaar, a sprawling, chaotic wonderland where you can find everything from dried apricots and thick woollen slippers to homemade cheese and Korean cosmetics. Yes, you read that right—Korean skincare is huge here. My mom and I ended up buying more serums than souvenirs.
One afternoon, I stumbled into a small café serving laghman—hand-pulled noodles in a savoury broth—and realised how much Kyrgyz culture is tied to its food. The meals are hearty, heavy on meat (often mutton or beef), and made for sharing. For vegetarians, it’s not the easiest destination, but with Turkish restaurants and some modern cafés, you won’t go hungry. My advice: your safest options are a simple salad or vegetarian pizza.
Leaving Bishkek behind, I travelled east by car on a road trip towards Karakol. The route itself was unforgettable. We stopped at Skazka Canyon—its name means “Fairy Tale” in Russian, and it earned it. The cliffs looked as if they had been sculpted by wind and legend, glowing in earthy reds and golds. Further along, we passed Jeti-Ögüz, the “Seven Bulls” rock formation that stands like a stone fortress over the valley.
Karakol is located near the eastern edge of Issyk-Kul Lake, which gives the town a feeling of peace and quiet. It’s a favourite among trekkers and skiers, depending on the season, and its relaxed pace was exactly what I needed. One evening, I soaked in the nearby hot springs, letting the mineral-rich water work its magic as the crisp air surrounded me—extremely therapeutic.
What made Karakol stand out, though, was its proximity to true alpine adventure. From here, trails lead into some of the wildest parts of the Tian Shan mountains, and it’s also a great place to begin exploring local yurt camps.
No picture could have prepared me for the scale and serenity of Issyk-Kul. This massive, high-altitude lake never freezes—not even in winter—and its name, meaning “warm lake,” makes sense when you see steam rising from its surface on cold mornings. I was shocked to discover that it is actually Asia’s largest natural lake.
I stayed at a small eco-resort in Tong, where I woke up to the sound of waves brushing the shore. Afternoons were spent reading, swimming, or simply doing nothing but watching the colours change across the water. On the way there, I explored Burana Tower, one of the last standing minarets from an ancient Silk Road city. From the top, I looked out at the same plains that once carried caravans across continents. There’s something powerful about touching stones that have witnessed so much history, yet now sit quietly under open skies.
Flying to Osh, in the southern part of the country, felt like arriving somewhere entirely new. The city is older, warmer (both in temperature and temperament), and has a deeper blend of cultures. The food felt spicier, the bazaars louder, and the pace more soulful. The Osh Bazaar was less overwhelming than Bishkek’s but richer in human connection. Vendors didn’t just sell products—they told stories, offered samples, and teased you into bargaining. I ate freshly baked samsa straight from clay ovens and shared a table with strangers over plates of plov, the classic rice-and-meat dish that’s made differently in every region. There’s a lived-in wisdom to Osh that made me slow down and appreciate quiet moments—such as watching bread rise, listening to elders speak in a language I didn’t understand, and feeling strangely at home.
If there’s one thing that defined my time in Kyrgyzstan, it was the nights I spent sleeping in yurts near Song-Kul Lake and Chunkurchak. Yurts are traditional, sturdy wooden tents with woollen linings inside to keep you warm in cold weather. Days were spent on horseback, riding alongside nomadic families who still live as their ancestors did. I helped herd sheep, tried my hand at churning milk, and drank countless cups of kymyz—fermented mare’s milk that I never quite got used to but always accepted out of respect. At night, without phone signal or electricity, I lay under heavy wool blankets and listened to the wind whistle across the steppe. It was the kind of silence that stays with you.
You can’t leave Kyrgyzstan without a few treasures in your backpack. I picked up handmade felt rugs, a traditional Kalpak hat, bundles of herbal tea, and so many Korean skincare products that I still use today. Osh Bazaar and Dordoi Bazaar in Bishkek were the best spots for all things local, such as traditional woollen slippers, dried fruit, embroidered corsets, and more. Haggling was expected, often ending in a laugh and a free sample.
Although I stayed with my dad in the accommodation provided to him, I would recommend trying everything from budget hostels to lakeside guesthouses and yurt camps. In Bishkek, Apple Hostel offers a friendly base for backpackers, while Orion Hotel is a nice splurge. Karakol has charming family-run options like Green Yard Hotel, and on the shores of Issyk-Kul, I loved the peace of Raduga Resort. But my favourite stay was the one night I spent at Sopara Resort in Chunkurchak. This resort has designed its rooms to imitate the structure of a yurt.
The best time to visit is during summer (June to September) when the mountains are green, the skies are clear, and hiking is at its best. Winter is cold but perfect for skiing in Karakol. Spring and Autumn are lesser popular seasons to visit although they offer a good weather to roam around.
There is only one direct flight from Delhi to Bishkek, operated by Aero Nomad, but you can also take connecting flights through Tashkent, Almaty, or Istanbul. I flew from Delhi to Bishkek with Aero Nomad. Although the flight wasn’t great, it was indeed the fastest—I reached Bishkek in just 2.5 hours.
Within the country, I got around using shared taxis, marshrutkas, and sometimes even Uber in Bishkek. For public transport, they mainly have buses, but it can be difficult to use due to the language barrier. A quick domestic flight to Osh saved me hours on the road and offered stunning views of the snow-capped peaks.
Do Indians need a visa? Yes. Apply online through the Kyrgyzstan e-visa portal. Processing takes 3–7 days, with fees between INR 3,500–INR 5,100.
Is Kyrgyzstan safe for travellers?
Very much so. I felt safe as a solo traveller, and locals were always kind and helpful.
Is it expensive?
Not at all. Accommodation, meals, and transport are all budget-friendly.
Can I travel solo in Kyrgyzstan?
Yes. While not many people speak English, translation apps and gestures go a long way.
What currency is used in Kyrgyzstan?
Kyrgyzstani Som (KGS), with a value close to INR. Card payments are accepted in most cities.
Kyrgyzstan isn’t flashy. It doesn’t boast iconic monuments or polished tourism. What it offers is more precious: space, silence, and sincerity. It’s a place where nature still shapes lives, and where time seems to stretch like the steppe.
I didn’t just take a trip. I slowed down, tuned in, and learned how to sit with stillness. And somewhere between the mountain ridges and starlit yurts, I found something I hadn’t even known I was looking for a feeling of connection, not just to a place, but to a quieter version of myself.
