It was like in a base camp. I mean, besides electricity, fast wi-fi and the shop around the corner where you could swing by in your flip-flops. Also, we were in Kyrgyzstan’s fourth biggest city and none of us was even close to being a mountaineer. We were all regular tourists. The mood was truly basecamp-ish, though. We would maniacally check the weather forecast and played cards for hours to kill the time. Sometimes the noise of squealing tires followed by the rumble of crashing cars drowned out the monotonous sound of the rain on the tin roof. Another jerk went through a red light on the intersection in front of the hostel.