Early in the morning the cuckoo told us in her own language that it was time to cuckoo! The First 60 kilometers at average pace of 32 km/h. The sound of our rough-terrain tires on the smooth pavement was similar to that of a busy beehive. Buzzing away, we flew past the last remainders of rocky, snow covered mountains and entered the flower riddled green pastures. This new landscape and continuous downward grade made for the most mind blowing descent we've done the whole trip. Yaks we had gotten used to seeing in Tajikistan made space for Horses running free alongside the rivers, Cowboys steered huge groups of milk makers along the road. We praised the concrete gods that we were no longer jolting up and down on shitty roads, on the contrary: we were sliding on butter avenue.
We reached a mountain pass after 75 km, and handled it quickly. As we descended many brave children came up to high-five us even at speeds of 60km/h. Many "hello, hello's anf laughter" followed by "OOOO aiaiaiaia". All the while twelve eagles circled over us, which we took as a good omen. Anton's back still wasn't doing well though, so he stopped a jeep to hitchhike to the top, where we bought some fermented horse milk and unleashed a miniature thunderstorm in our stomachs. We decided this beverage is meant for foals only as we followed the river down to Osh, and celebrated a 130 km day, disregarding the four flat tires, with a pizza party, complete with a chocolate dessert and a glass of Italian wine. Say one thing for the Silk Road cyclers, say they are living the life.