A Postcard From Altyn Arashan, Kyrgyzstan

The sun’s rays have not yet hit the mountaintops as we stumble down the rickety stairs and collapse onto the hard wooden benches surrounding the dining room table, lured out of our warm beds by the promise of free pancakes.

At 6:06 on the dot an alarm goes off in the kitchen and Valentin bustles into the room to the tinny sounds of Beethoven’s für Elise, carrying a plate of steaming pancakes and a pot of black coffee, chuckling at the sight of our sleepy faces.
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