1. be a citizen of the Kyrgyz Republic,
2. have a degree in Tourism, and
3. have at least three years experience in tourism.

Under this provision I couldn’t be the director of the Celestial Mountains Tour Company.  Although I satisfy the third of these conditions … the company was established in 1997, and so I have over ten years experience … but I fall foul of the other two.  I do have official Residence status here in Kyrgyzstan – but my passport is of “a different colour” … I am not a Kyrgyz citizen.  Also my degree is not in tourism, it’s in Theology and the Psychology of Education.  I also have a postgraduate diploma, but that’s in Mathematical Education … and so wouldn’t help.  Neither would the fact that I taught the IT units on a Tourism and Leisure vocational course back in the UK …

For the record … in 2009 there was another draft law proposed – and it included the same provision.  The law was passed by the Parliament – but vetoed by the President in the face of opposition from the industry, and sent back with the instruction to revise it.

Most people are surprised to learn that I have a degree in Theology, (and the Psychology of Education!).  Indeed, I think it was a surprise to everyone at the time – my friends and family included.  We weren’t a particularly religious family.  My parents, like most English people of their generation, were nominally Christians and would probably have answered “C of E”, (Church of England, Anglican or what is known in the US as Episcopalian), on any form that asked for their religion.

These days I don’t normally talk much about Religion (and despite the name of this page, I am not going to now), but that wasn’t always the case.  It might seem odd for someone with a degree in Theology, but I tend to agree with the old adage that there are three things that you don’t discuss in “polite conversation”: Sex, Politics and Religion … they are private matters, between a man and his lover, the ballot box, and his god.

When I was growing up, on the other hand, I took a lively interest in religion.  It was a major part of my life.  So much so that I wanted to become, (indeed, I planned to become), a Minister in the church.  Looking back at it now, with the benefit of hindsight, it seems to me that a lot of it was social … rather than a question of conviction.  There was no dramatic conversion, no “Damascus Road” experience, no “blinding lights” … but then again, not every believer has such an experience.  Like many others, I sort of “drifted” into the church – and then out again … “a backslider”.

It started when I started attending the Sunday School at the local Salvation Army and then, later, at the Methodist Church, then the local Crusaders Group and finally Bible Classes at the local Gospel Hall … I don’t think I ever attended all four on one day, but my Sundays were pretty busy.

Basically I was taken along at first by one of my friends, but when they “dropped out”, I didn’t.  The “classes” got smaller as more and more people stopped coming and soon I was one of the few left.  The others all seemed to belong to families which were firm members of the church and so were like “conscripts”, whereas I stood out as a “volunteer”.  I got more and more involved in Church affairs on an informal basis and eventually asked the Minister if I could join the church as a member.  He was delighted and probably jumped the gun a little – instead of explaining everything to me and making sure that I understood and was ready he sort of rushed the decision and pushed the process through.  The next thing I know, I am a member.

“Membership has its privileges” as the advertising slogan put it … but it also carries responsibilities and obligations.  Was I ready to accept those?  Looking back on it now I think that I can probably, honestly, say “No”, but at the time I felt ready.  I didn’t, however, accept everything I was told blindly.  Like the early Methodists I was very much a “freethinker”.    I created quite a stir, for example, amongst members of the church, (who are traditionally teetotallers), when I took a summer job as a barman in a local pub.  What was wrong with that? – didn’t Jesus turn water into wine at a wedding? – is the wine an important part of the communion ritual?  The problem wasn’t alcohol in itself, it lay in the abuse of alcohol.  Surely it was better to drink alcohol in the controlled situation of a public house, served by a barman than at home where there were no social controls.

Perhaps, however, I was a little too ready to accept what I was learning … to take things on trust, as a matter of faith.  In life you have to take some things on trust … or faith … and perhaps, looking back with hindsight, I did take too much on trust without asking enough questions and analyzing the stories, accounts and precepts.

After a while I felt ready to take the next step – I really felt that I wanted to work in the church.  So I asked the question about how I should set about it, and once again I found doors being opened for me … I didn’t feel that I was being rushed into something, but I was being “carried along with the tide”.

Finally, someone gave me some advice which seemed sensible.  Our Minister had retired and his replacement was a young man, with a young wife who didn’t really see herself as a wife of the Manse.  Most of the people in the church were a lot older than them and, to be fair, she, in particular, didn’t fit in.  I don’t think it was anyone’s fault – indeed, it might just have been a mismatch … if he had been assigned to an inner city church, then I think they would both felt much happier.  They would have felt that they were making a real difference rather than being tucked away in some backwater.  Eventually, he decided that perhaps he had made a mistake and decided to resign … not just from his post as our Minister, but from the Church as a whole.  It was a blow.  I was shocked, but it was pointed out to me that I was also young and who knows what the future might bring.   Instead of deciding to go to Theological College, perhaps I should think like an actor who always has a second string to his bow for when he is “resting” … that is – when he doesn’t have an acting job … a role to perform on stage.

I knew that this was good advice – as I have said elsewhere, I don’t believe in closing doors until you have to … so I looked around and chose teaching as a suitable “second” career.  As things turned out, it was to end up being my main vocation for most of my life – sometimes, I think, even today when I am running a tour business.

The “backsliding” started after I left home to go to college.  I had chosen my college for several reasons, including:

• it was not far from home,
• it was a Methodist college, and
• it offered me the opportunity to continue my studies in my two “favoured” subjects … Religion and Mathematics.

The Theology lectures I attended, however, started to raise more and more questions in my mind, as did the new subjects that I encountered, such as Psychology and Sociology … and what I was learning in Mathematics gave me the analytical tools to tackle, (although not necessarily to answer), those questions.   I didn’t like the answers that I felt I was being drawn towards … and I started to wonder if I had, indeed, made a mistake.  I then made a fateful decision, on purely emotional grounds, that I needed to take a breather … I needed to think things through for myself before I took an irrevocable step.

I wrote to my Superintendent Minister at home and explained the situation.  I can imagine the shockwave that letter created – I felt some of the ripples sixty five miles away – a much bigger shockwave than my being a Methodist barman.

I wasn’t ready to leave the church at that time … I still felt that I believed … but I felt that I didn’t have (and I don’t have today) the conviction and certainty that I used to have – and that I felt I needed to have in order to become a Minister.   So, I stopped attending church several times every Sunday … but not altogether …  Slowly, however, I drifted away from the church.  My membership lapsed and if anyone asks me now, I tend to say I am agnostic about religion … perhaps, veering towards atheism.

I was once asked whether I felt, as things eventually turned out, if I felt that I had wasted my time in University studying Theology.  The answer is no, emphatically, NO.  I learned a lot in that time – about the culture in which I grew up (- just think about how much of the music, art, history and literature is tied up in religion), about ethics, about people and how to deal with them and, of course, about myself.

It’s part of me.  It helped to make me who I am, and what I am.

The Chase High School

I wasn’t a particularly good student at school. In fact I still have my school report where one of my teachers commented: “Ian works well when he can’t avoid it” … and I still wonder why he couldn’t have stuck with the traditionally tried and tested: “Could do better”, but it was at least original and showed that I wasn’t just “one of the crowd”.

During my Primary school years (from age five to eleven for those who don’t know the English educational system) I went to the Malvern Link County Primary School which was a ten minute walk from home. It might not have been very far, but when you are that age, those ten minutes can seem like an age and I am always amazed whenever I return to see how close it really was to home. It was in my last years at that school that I found a liking and (minor) talent for Mathematics … the crucial moment was when we started algebra … x times y equals xy, a times b equals ab … hey, I could that, no problem – even if I had no real idea at that time what was actually going on, it caught my imagination and I was no longer “afraid” of “sums”.

The School Badge

At the time when I was growing up the secondary education system in England, (following the principles laid down after the Second World War and based on what we now know as the flawed researches of Sir Edward Birt), divided youngsters at the age of eleven into “Grammar School” or “Secondary Modern”. I “failed” the dreaded eleven-plus examination and ended up going to the “non-selective” Chase Secondary Modern, (which was later renamed the Chase High School – allegedly because some posh school in the North of the county didn’t want to lose it’s “High School” name – and is known as The Chase Technology College). The school is still there and going strong according to the reports I read on the internet. It is one of the largest schools in Worcestershire with 1700 pupils and a staff of 200.

I still think that failing that examination was an important turning point which helped to shape the course of the rest of my life. Indeed, if I am feeling a little mischievous, sometimes when I get asked: “Why did you end up in Kyrgyzstan?”, I answer: “because I failed the eleven plus.” Seriously though, it limited the options available to me later in life – and this is something which has always rankled and, as a result, I always try to make sure now that I leave as many options open and available for as long as possible … Another of my mottos: “don’t close doors until you have to”.

Let me explain.

The Chase was a good school, with a good catchment area and got good results. Although not an outstanding student, I was a relatively good student – and frequently came out top of the year in Maths. True to the school motto, (“First, or with the first”), we were one of the few Secondary Modern schools at that time to offer A-Levels, (needed for university entrance). But … that was mainly in the Arts and Humanities – there were no sciences offered at this level – indeed the school didn’t even offer, (and I have never studied), Chemistry. I was the third person in the school’s history to sit A-Level Maths, and the first to pass. Things were changing, however, and the following yeargroup were given the options of studying Maths, Physics, Chemistry and Biology.

Although I had done O-Level Physics in my final year of compulsory education, (O-level was the equivalent of the School Leaving Certificate or Diploma), it wasn’t available to me at A-level and so my other subjects were Geography and Religious Education. If I hadn’t been able to study Maths then I would have liked to have done History – another subject I find fascinating – but for some reason I got bumped out of the class a few months before the examinations at the end of my final year of compulsory education. Although I wasn’t an outstanding student, I was, (even if I say so myself), better than mediocre, so why was I bumped off the course? I think it was just that they thought I wasn’t pulling my weight and would struggle to cope with eight examination subjects. Maybe they were right, but I decided to go back and try again the following year … and came out with a top grade – I like to think “that showed them!”

It’s a pity that Physics wasn’t available … because Maths and Physics tend to go together. There’s a strong relationship between Mechanics, a branch of Physics and Applied Mathematics. Usually the two subjects supplement and help each other. I didn’t have that option available and so Maths Teacher decided that it would be better for me to learn Statistics … and I am very grateful for that because it has turned out to be a great boon as things turned out in subsequent years. One thing it has taught me is to always, ALWAYS, ALWAYS question statistics – especially when they are thrown around with great abandon … because they always seem to raise more questions than they answer.

One of the great things about studying A-Level Maths, was that I was the only student in the class. Now, in some ways, that was great … lots of individual attention … but in other ways it was terrible … lots of pressure and no-one to share or discuss the difficult bits with. I always remembered this when I later became a teacher in my own turn and had classes of just one student.

One of the great lessons I learnt at school was not on the formal curriculum – delegation. There was no syllabus, no coursework or final examination, it was just something that was part of the ethos of the place. In a hangover from Public Schools, the teachers gave responsibility to senior students. It wasn’t just a case of being “board monitor” – although some teachers did appoint those. The school operated a Prefect system – and apparently still does. In my last year of compulsory schooling, (the Fifth year), I was made a prefect and given jobs to do including supervising younger kids during break times. The following year, what was then called the Lower Sixth, I became a House Captain, responsible for organizing events and sports teams … we never did that well, but it was good training for later life. In my final year, the Upper Sixth, I reached the pinnacle and was made Head Boy. I remember being told by one of the teachers that: “We can’t be everywhere, we can’t do everything … that’s why we have prefects.” Another useful lesson which I have carried with me throughout the rest of my life.

Church Street, Great Malvern

Malvern, where I grew up, was a small town with a population of about 30,000, (which would be a sizeable city in Kyrgyzstan), but it was originally a number of villages, (Great Malvern, Malvern Link, North Malvern, West Malvern, Little Malvern, Malvern Wells and a number with names that don’t contain the name “Malvern” like Colwall, and Barnards Green), which grew up around the Malvern Hills.

To us, growing up in Malvern, it was a small town.  I am a “Small Town Boy”!  Small enough to go out on a Saturday  morning an guarantee running into friends even if you hadn’t made any specific arrangements to do so.  Everyone seemed to know everyone else.  My father in particular, being a postman, seemed to know everyone – and everyone seemed to know him.  At least, if he didn’t know someone then he could find out about them by asking one of his colleagues.  All my friends, especially girlfriends, went to under a close scrutiny – not all them passing muster and receiving approval.

The Malvern Hills

The most obvious landmark in the town are the Malvern Hills.  They stretch for about 10 miles North to South and rise majestically from the plain of the Severn River to the West, and to the East there are undulating hills as Herefordshire extends towards the Welsh Mountains.  The hills meant that to go anywhere in Malvern meant having to climb, (what seemed to me at the time), steep inclines and it was a real disincentive to ride a bike anywhere – although it is true that “what goes up must come down” and so so strenuous pedaling would be alternated with coasting downhill (at dangerously increasing speeds … I crashed and wrote off two cycles this way!)  To this day I still don’t really understand the motivation of Mountain Bikers who thrill at climbing to the passes of the Tien Shan, Pamir and Karakorum ranges.

When I first met Tony, from New Zealand, he upset me (well, slightly offended me), by saying that England was basically flat.  How could he say that to someone from Malvern, graced as we were with the glorious hills?  Standing on the top of the Worcestershire Beacon in the center of the range, there is no higher spot to the East until you get to the Urals separating Europe from Asia!  Now, having been to New Zealand – and, of course, Kyrgyzstan – I understand.  In England we don’t really have mountains … OK – technically they may be mountains … because they are over a certain height, but I now realize that we are probably “making mountains out of molehills”.

Hey, it is possible to drive a car to the top of Ben Nevis, Britain’s highest peak – there are photographs in the pubs of Fort William, at the foot of the “mountain”, to prove it.  Try that on Peak Pobeda!

(Apparently the actual figure for defining a mountain changes according to the context -I was told  in Geography lessons that it was 1000 feet, or about 300m … in Kyrgyzstan they don’t consider anything to be mountainous unless it is over 1500m, which is about 93% of the country!).

Like most places in Britain, Malvern has a long history.   In fact, the name, itself, probably dates back to ancient times and is derived from a word which meant “Bare-Hill”, (apparently, in Welsh, “Moelfryn” has a similar meaning: “bald hill”).

Malvern Priory

Malvern was the site of a Benedictine monastery, which, after the hills is probably the second best known landmark in the town.  The Priory was established in 1085.  It is said that Saint Wulfstan, who was the Bishop of Worcester at the time, encouraged a hermit named Aldwyn to found a monastery in what was then the wilderness of Malvern Chase.  The Priory was built for thirty monks on land belonging to Westminster Abbey.  The current church, however, is the result of more recent renovations which date from about 1470.  The great square central tower is very similar to that of the nearby Gloucester Cathedral; it was built by the same masons.  The church has a fine collection of stained glass windows which ranges from medieval to modern.  One was a gift from Henry VIII in 1501, and another from the Duke of Gloucester, who later became Richard III.  It was saved from destruction in the “dissolution of the monasteries” under Henry VIII because the locals bought it to serve as their parish church because their existing church was in a bad state of decay.  The bought it for the grand sum of twenty pounds.

(One of the few things I brought with me to Kyrgyzstan as a memento of home was a Victorian Print of the Abbey Gateway)

Malvern is a famous spa, known for its bottled water since 1622 – it is now bottled by Schweppes out of their factory on the Western side of the hills.  There are a number of natural springs and a Victorian rhyme claimed that Malvern water was so pure that it owed its fame to the fact that it contained “nothing at all”.  Believe it or not, even here in Kyrgyzstan – where we lots of Mineral waters of our own – I sometimes find a bottle on a shop shelf or in a bar.

One of the Annual events which take place in the lee of the hills – and something we always used to look forward to – is The Three Counties Show – an agricultural fair.

Malvern is home to several famous public schools, the most notable being Malvern College and Malvern Girls College (now renamed Malvern St. James after its merger with another local school).  Amongst the famous alluminii are: Jeremy Paxman, Denholm Elliott, Barbara Cartland and Aleister Crowley.

Not exactly an industrial town, Malvern is however the home of one of the world’s longest existing private car factories, The Morgan Motor Car which makes traditional sports cars which over the years have become a ‘cult’ vehicle, and are exported all over the world.

During the Second World War, Malvern was the location to which the UK government was to be evacuated, (at least part of it), in case of invasion or emergency. During this time, it also became the home of Telecommunications Research Establishment, (TRE), renowned for its role in the history of radar.  It has been said that World War II was won on the playing fields of Malvern, home of the cavity magnetron – whatever that is. The site of TRE still exists in Malvern, but due to shifts in scientific focus, its name has undergone several changes including RRE (Royal Radar Establishment), RSRE (Royal Signals and Radar Establishment), DRA (Defence Research Agency) and DERA (Defence Evaluation and Research Agency) … but I knew it as, and will always remember it as RRE.  Apparently, although part of it has been privatized, it and is still the major source of employment in the town, and has spawned a number of smaller light engineering companies in the neighbourhood.

Amongst the other various claims to fame that the town owns:

• According to legend, the British chieftain Caractacus took his last stand against the Romans on what is now called the Herefordshire Beacon in the Malvern Hills but, although there are fortifications on the hill from the period, this has been disputed in more recent times.
• The beginning of the medieval poem “Piers Plowman”, by Langland, (one of the earliest pieces of English literature), is set on the Malvern hillside.
• Cardinal Wolsey, (Henry VIII’s Chancellor) had his first posting in the lee of the hills.
• Charles Darwin’s daughter Anne is buried in the graveyard of Malvern Priory.
• Peter Mark Roget (creator of Roget’s Thesaurus) is buried in the graveyard of St James, West Malvern.
• British composer Edward Elgar taught in Great Malvern and much of his work was influenced by the Malvern Hills. Elgar is buried at St. Wulstan’s, Little Malvern.
• C. S. Lewis, was a pupil at Malvern College. It is said that he and J. R. R. Tolkien used to walk on the Malvern Hills.  There is a story that once, when walking home one winter evening after having had a drink in one of the local pubs, it started to snow. They saw a lamp post shining out through the snow and Lewis turned to his friends and said “that would make a very nice opening line to a book”. It may not have been the opening line, but he did use the image in his book “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”, as the characters enter the realm of Narnia.
• It is sometimes claimed that Haile Selassie, the Emperor of Ethiopia, spent some of his exile here, in the Abbey Hotel – but if he did, I didn’t know anything about it.

So this is the environment I grew up in during the 1950′s and 60′s: a small urban English town, steeped, (albeit lightly) in culture, history and tradition … not exactly rural and not really a city … but having a sense of its own importance, status and it’s place in the world.

Photos from Wikipedia: