Living on a farm in Kyrgyzstan has been a transformative experience. Over the past two weeks, I’ve been adapting to a lifestyle vastly different from my previous one in France.

Here, water is a shared resource between humans and animals. Laundry is done by hand, with water patiently heated beforehand. Washing dishes involves a trickle of cold water. Each trip to the “toilet”—essentially a hole in the ground—means braving the cold, regardless of the hour.

Nights are rarely silent. Occasionally, the neighing of horses, disturbed by unseen threats, pierces the stillness. Power outages remind me of the fragility of modern conveniences, and my two thick blankets become essential defenses against the Kyrgyz chill.

Yet, residing on a Kyrgyz farm offers a serene simplicity. Each morning feels like waking up within a living painting, observing the daily routines of animals in the valley. It’s an opportunity to calm the mind and embrace tranquility.

The air is crisp and pure, filled with the scents of earth and wind. Every evening, the sky unveils a tapestry of stars.

Time here seems to pause. There’s little concern for the future; the focus is on the essentials of the present. Living on a farm in Kyrgyzstan is a reminder that silence can tell its own beautiful stories.

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