Another Angel: Aibek and the Road to Cholpon-Ata

September 1, 2026

While I was in Bishkek, I needed to figure out how to get to Cholpon-Ata, the lakeside town where the World Nomad Games were being held. It was about a four-hour drive, and I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to get there.

Then I met a Yandex driver named Aibek.

I asked if he would be interested in driving me. At first, he said no. Then yes. Then no again. Then yes again.

Eventually, we settled on yes!

Aibek picked me up around six o’clock on the morning of September 1. He had a friend with him, and the three of us set off for Cholpon-Ata.

About halfway there, we stopped at a little roadside restaurant for breakfast. We had tea with milk and local bread served with a thick, tangy cream for dipping. It was simple and delicious.

When I went to pay, Aibek wouldn’t hear of it.

“No, you’re my guest,” he told me, and he paid for my breakfast.

I had hired him to drive me to Cholpon-Ata. I was beginning to see that he thought of me as more than a fare.

The Hostel That Wasn’t There

When we arrived in Cholpon-Ata, we went straight to the address I’d been given for Apple Hostel. I had booked seven nights about a month earlier and paid $378 in advance by bank transfer.

We reached the address. There was no Apple Hostel.

We walked back and forth, looking for an entrance or a sign we might have missed. Eventually, a neighbor told us the hostel had closed five years earlier.

Five years!

I sent messages to Apple Hostel through the service we’d been using before my arrival. I didn’t have a working telephone number for them, and no one answered my messages.

There I was in an unfamiliar town, unable to speak the language, with a prepaid reservation at a hostel that apparently no longer existed. I began to wonder if I’d been scammed.

A Visit to the Police Station

I decided to file a police report. Aibek was still with me, and he helped me find the station and explain what had happened.

We had just begun the process when Apple Hostel finally contacted me. They said they had changed locations and sent an address for another guesthouse where they had arranged for me to stay.

So off we went again.

The people at the guesthouse were expecting me. There was just one problem: I had to pay again.

At that point, I was relieved to have somewhere to sleep. The guesthouse was lovely, although my room was on the fourth floor with no elevator. Getting my luggage upstairs was an adventure of its own.

I paid, carried my bags up, and settled in.

The Refund Saga

The Apple Hostel story didn’t end there. I had paid $378 in advance and then had to pay again for a place to stay. Over the next few weeks, I went back and forth with Apple Hostel and Agoda dozens of times, trying to get my money back.

About three weeks later, a payment for three hundred and something dollars appeared in my PayPal account. It came from a man I’d never heard of.

Who was this guy? Was it a mistake? Was it some kind of scam? I decided I’d contact him and find out, but two days later, Apple Hostel sent me a message.

They explained that they didn’t have PayPal, so they had arranged for one of their guests to send me the refund. The amount was a few dollars short, but after all those messages, I had finally received nearly all the money they owed me.

Afterward, I checked Agoda again. Apple Hostel was no longer listed in Cholpon-Ata. I don’t know when the listing disappeared, but it was gone when I looked.

I was glad to have the money back. Still, when I think about that day in Cholpon-Ata, the refund isn’t what comes to mind first.

I think of Aibek.

Another Angel

Aibek’s job was to drive me from Bishkek to Cholpon-Ata. Once we arrived, he could have dropped me off and gone home.

Instead, he stayed. He searched for the hostel with me, spoke to the neighbor, took me to the police station, and then drove me to the guesthouse when we finally received the new address. He waited until he knew I had a place to stay.

Only then did he say goodbye.

This was the same man who had bought me breakfast that morning because, as he put it, I was his guest.

I’ve met people on this journey who have gone out of their way to help a stranger. I call them my angels. Aibek was another one.

Years from now, I may forget some of the details of the World Nomad Games. I don’t think I’ll forget the kindness of the man who made sure I had a place to sleep that night.