Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan

An Unexpected Detour

I first heard about the 2026 World Nomad Games when I asked ChatGPT whether there were any interesting festivals or events taking place in Central Asia during my travels.

The World Nomad Games? I had never heard of them.

But the more I investigated, the more interested I became. Eventually, I rearranged my itinerary to make sure I could attend. That is how I found myself traveling from Shanghai to Almaty, Kazakhstan, and then on to Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan.

Getting a ticket to the grand opening ceremony was an adventure in itself. Tickets had to be ordered online, and to say there was a lack of information and clarity about how the whole thing was supposed to work would be an understatement. The website barely functioned, the instructions were confusing, and everything seemed to be happening at the last minute.

I eventually learned that this was something of a recurring theme with the Games. Everything seemed to come together at the last minute. And yet, somehow, it all came together remarkably well.

I also learned that security would be unusually tight because world leaders were expected to attend. I didn’t understand why a sporting event in Kyrgyzstan would attract such attention, but I dutifully submitted my passport information, paid for my seat, and received my ticket.

I was going to the opening ceremony!

A Bus, a Crowd, and a New Friend

The big day finally arrived. I knew it was going to be a long one. The buses transporting spectators to the arena were scheduled to begin departing at 2 p.m., so I left my apartment at 1 p.m. and arrived at the departure point around 1:30.

There were perhaps 15 or 20 buses lined up, along with a growing crowd of people. What there wasn’t was anyone explaining what we were supposed to do. No organized queues, no clear directions. Just buses and people.

Fortunately, I struck up a conversation with a woman and her mother. The woman had lived in the United States for a while and spoke English, so she helped me figure out what was going on.

Eventually, we boarded a bus together. The woman and her mother sat down, and I took a seat across from them. A young man sitting nearby motioned for me to come and sit beside him.

His name was Abdullah.

He spoke very good English, and we had a pleasant conversation during the ride, talking about all sorts of things. He was also going to the opening ceremony, although we had assigned seats and wouldn’t be sitting together once we arrived.

At the time, I had no idea how important this chance encounter would become.

The Power Bank Disaster

When we arrived at the arena, the confusion continued. There was no clear guidance about where to go. Everyone simply followed the crowd, hoping that someone ahead knew what they were doing.

I followed the herd.

Eventually, we reached a security checkpoint where everyone had to pass through metal detectors and have their bags inspected. I knew not to bring knives, water, or other prohibited items, but as I approached the checkpoint, I overheard a security guard asking the person ahead of me something about a power bank.

Oh no.

I pulled out my power bank. The guard pointed to a large box containing what looked like 50 or 100 other power banks. I was expected to leave mine there.

What do you mean? I just bought this power bank!

I had purchased it in Shanghai specifically for my travels, and now, before the ceremony had even begun, I was being told to surrender it. Even worse, my iPhone battery was already down to about 40 percent. I hadn’t bothered to fully charge it because I had a perfectly good power bank.

Or at least I had a perfectly good power bank.

Into the box it went, never to be seen again.

I was now facing a long afternoon and evening with a phone that might not survive the event. No more casual photography for me!

A Magnificent New Arena

Abdullah and I continued toward the arena. Neither of us knew exactly where we were supposed to go, but with his help, we eventually found our way up the stairs and into the stadium.

And what a stadium!

Bishkek Arena was brand new. From what I understood, construction had only just been completed, and there were still plenty of unfinished details. But I had to give the Kyrgyz people credit. It was a beautiful facility.

The stadium was designed to accommodate roughly 50,000 spectators, although the elaborate stage configuration for the opening ceremony reduced the available seating. Approximately 30,000 people attended.

I eventually found my assigned seat, which turned out to be a very nice one. By now, it was around 3 p.m., and the main ceremony was still hours away.

I settled into my seat and stayed there for most of the afternoon. Normally, I would have wandered around taking photographs, exploring the arena, and documenting everything. But with my phone battery running low and no way to recharge it, I had to be careful.

I was going to have to rely more on my eyes than my camera.

A Very Long Afternoon

The preliminary entertainment eventually began. There was music, dancing, and performances featuring local and national entertainers whom the Kyrgyz spectators seemed to recognize.

It was still broad daylight, and some of the performances were quite interesting. The problem was that the dancers were hundreds of yards away. From where I was sitting, they looked about a quarter of an inch tall!

Still, the atmosphere was pleasant. I enjoyed watching the people coming and going, listening to the music, and taking in the excitement of the crowd.

But it was a long afternoon. A very long afternoon.

At one point, I decided to get something to drink. I made my way to what I suppose you could call a concession stand. There wasn’t really a counter. It was more like an alcove, with two women surrounded by boxes and boxes of food and drinks.

And there was a crowd.

I was beginning to learn something about queuing in Kyrgyzstan, at least at crowded events like this one. There weren’t any orderly lines. People simply pressed together like sardines, reaching their hands through the crowd and trying to get the attention of the women serving them. You had to work your way forward.

I also discovered that although digital payments were common throughout Kyrgyzstan, the system here seemed rather informal, almost as though it operated on the honor system. I didn’t have access to the local digital payment system, but fortunately, I had some cash.

I managed to buy a drink, which I believe was a lightly sweetened iced tea, and returned to my seat.

More waiting.

Wait a Minute. I Know That Guy!

Around 6 p.m., something interesting began happening on the giant video screen. We started seeing cars arriving. Not just ordinary cars, but motorcades, one after another.

At first, I didn’t understand what we were watching. Who were all these people?

Then I recognized someone.

Wait a minute. I know that guy!

It was Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, the president of Türkiye. He arrived with his wife, and we watched as they stepped out of their car and were formally welcomed. There were handshakes, flowers for his wife, photographs, and then they moved on.

More motorcades arrived, bringing more presidents and dignitaries.

And then there was Vladimir Putin.

Vladimir Putin!

Who would have imagined that I would travel halfway around the world to attend a sporting event in Kyrgyzstan and find myself in the same stadium as the president of Russia?

Then came Narendra Modi, the prime minister of India. And the arrivals continued. There were leaders from Central Asia, Africa, and other parts of the world, including the president of Iran.

I hadn’t expected any of this. I had come to see the World Nomad Games. Instead, I was watching a gathering of some of the most prominent political figures in the world.

What on earth was going on?

The Shanghai Cooperation Organisation

I subsequently learned that Bishkek was simultaneously hosting the 2026 summit of the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, commonly known as the SCO.

The SCO is an international organization whose members include China, Russia, India, Iran, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and several other countries. Its leaders gather to discuss regional security, economic cooperation, trade, and international affairs.

The World Nomad Games opening ceremony had been scheduled to coincide with the summit, and the visiting leaders were invited to attend.

Suddenly, everything made sense. The extraordinary security, the passport requirements, the motorcades, and perhaps even the confiscation of my power bank!

What I found particularly surprising was learning afterward that these world leaders weren’t secluded in some private room or sitting behind bulletproof glass. They were seated together on a raised platform near ground level in the stadium, surrounded by an audience of thousands.

My seat happened to be behind them, so I couldn’t see them directly. But I later received a photograph from a woman I had met who had a much better view. She was from China and, as I understood it, was visiting Kyrgyzstan in connection with the conference.

It was remarkable to think that Putin, Erdoğan, Modi, and the Iranian president had all been there, sharing the same stadium with us.

And I had almost no photographs of my own because of that blasted power bank!

The Ceremony Begins

Eventually, the main event began.

And it was spectacular.

After all the waiting, confusion, and organizational difficulties, the Kyrgyz people put on a magnificent show. There were horses, elaborate performances, traditional music, dancing, and extraordinary visual presentations on the giant screen.

The music was beautiful, and the scale of the production was impressive. The combination of performers, horses, lighting, and enormous video displays transformed the stadium into a celebration of nomadic culture.

I was genuinely amazed.

One of my favorite parts was the march of nations. Country after country entered the stadium, each represented by its athletes and delegation. Some countries had contingents of several hundred people, while others seemed to have only one representative. It was fascinating to watch them all.

And then came the Americans!

The United States had a modest but impressive contingent. I believe there were about nine members. It was a pleasure to see them representing our country at such an unusual international sporting event.

After hours of anticipation, the opening ceremony had delivered something truly memorable. It was beautiful, exciting, and extremely well done.

I was glad I had rearranged my entire itinerary to be there.

But the adventure wasn’t over. I still had to get home.

Chaos, Part Two

Leaving the arena was every bit as confusing as arriving. Imagine tens of thousands of people pouring out of a stadium, all trying to find the buses that would take them back into Bishkek.

There were buses everywhere, but where were we supposed to go?

I had been assigned to Bus Group 2. Unfortunately, there didn’t appear to be any signs telling us where Bus Group 2 was supposed to assemble. Just buses, people, and confusion.

Once again, everyone was pressing together, trying to get on the buses.

And then, in the middle of all that chaos, I spotted someone familiar.

Abdullah!

My angel, Abdullah.

He was standing there, and when he saw me, he immediately began helping me figure out where we were supposed to go. He asked people for directions, searched for the correct bus, and patiently worked through the confusion.

Eventually, we found Bus Group 2. We managed to board a bus together, and off we went.

I was relieved, but there was still one more problem.

My Angel, Abdullah

When we finally arrived back at the bus drop-off point in Bishkek, I realized I didn’t know exactly where I was. I had taken a Yandex taxi to the departure point earlier that afternoon, so I hadn’t paid much attention to the route.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem. I would simply have opened my phone, checked the map, and found my way home.

Except now my phone was completely dead.

No maps, no Yandex, no way to call a taxi. Nothing.

I had a general idea of which direction my apartment was in, and I figured I would start walking and hope for the best.

But there was Abdullah again.

He asked where I was staying and helped me figure out the direction. Then he said something like, “Oh, I live near there. I’m going that way too. I’ll show you.”

What a coincidence!

Or was it?

The more I think about it, the more I suspect that Abdullah didn’t actually live anywhere near my apartment. I think he understood that if he offered to go out of his way to help me, I might have refused. So instead, he simply told me he was going in the same direction.

We walked together through the streets of Bishkek until we reached my apartment. And Abdullah didn’t just point me in the right direction and say goodbye. He walked me all the way to the building and made sure I got safely inside.

Only then did we go our separate ways.

I had traveled from Shanghai to Bishkek to attend one of the most unusual sporting events in the world. I had watched world leaders arrive in their motorcades, witnessed a magnificent celebration of nomadic culture, and spent hours navigating the confusion of an event attended by tens of thousands of people.

But when I think back on that extraordinary day, one of the things I will remember most is a young man who invited me to sit beside him on a bus.

A young man who spoke English, helped me find my way through a confusing stadium, located our bus in the middle of a chaotic crowd, and walked me home when my phone died.

He wanted nothing in return. Just a chance to help a stranger.

My angel, Abdullah.