From Bishkek to the Chinese border

I caught cold in this last car. My throat hurts, I need time to rest at Nurbolot's place. Luckily, his place is a safe haven for me for as long as I need and he has the internet. I say hello to some of my friends in Bishkek, mostly Gulmira and Aiperi. I learn that Aiperi, the successful business-shark who has four jobs, is single and created a whole language center at Prospekt Mira from nothing is actually from a village in the Naryn region. If she returns there, they will probably kidnap her and kill her forever.
I leave on tuesday morning through the Dordoy bazar to Korday (in Kazakhstan), border city north of Bishkek. The border control is quick and painless and I get this annoying Kazakh registration form. This time, I'll try to stay in the country for less than five days.
I get a ride from Korday straight to the border of Almaty. It's a taxi but he takes me for free. Almaty is huge so I need another ride to get me through the city. I have forgotten the ways of the Kazakh, while neighbours with the Kyrgyz, they are way different. More distant, more cynic, more globally minded. And way richer. Now that I've lived in Kyrgyzstan for nearly three months, I can see the difference clearly. While in Kirghizia people live in mud houses without running water even in the capital, here it is less common and there is tap water even is some small cities.

As opposed to Bishkek, Almaty has some kind of architecture. Some parts of it are even beautiful and there are skyscrapers there. The bus costs more, the phone costs more and everything is more expensive of course. Kazakhstan is the model of success in the region if you don't count Turkmenistan of course but Turkmenistan is a fucking dictatorship. Kazakhstan also in a way, they have a president elected for life but nobody complains. Because democraties are a horrifying example in the region. The only actual democracy is Kyrgyzstan and it had two presidents who took most of the country's money, shot people and ran away. So when a president is good enough to actually run the country, people are happy to keep him in power for as long as possible. Because every new president is a new risk at chaos.

Almaty is not ugly at all

My cold is getting worse. And I am alone. I am trying not to take any chances so I have negociated some couchsurfing inside the city. I am counting 2 days gor the mongolian visa. Couchsurfing never works for me but this time, I've written to almost the whole site. I really need the place, I need some confort to get better and some rest before China which will be a great unknown. Miracle of miracles two people said yes to me. I will go to Uki Uki, a girl around my age living not far from the mongolian embassy. It takes me a while to get used to Almaty's transport system. First off, there are busses and not Marshutkas as in the rest of the country. Then, instead of paying to the driver there is a guy collecting money pretty much like beggars in Paris metro. Except you are actually expected to give money to this guy.
It takes me two hours to get to the rendez-vous place with Uki but she is very late so I still have time to look for the mongolian embassy. It's 4.30PM, of course it will be closed but at least I'll be able to get the opening hours on the door and apply for the visa the following morning. Afterwards, I'll only have to wait one day because the mongolian embassy has a reputation of delivering visas fast.
I can't believe my eyes: the consulate is actually open, not only is it open in the afternoon but the consul happens to speak english. Before, that is what I would expect of any embassy but now this is nothing short of a miracle. It gets better. I fill out my form, give 58 dollars to the guy and he prints me the visa in a matter of minutes. I love Mongolia, best embassy ever.

I meet Uki at some kind of big shopping center. I am tired and sick but we talk, she has lots to tell, she's a bit rainbow although she doesn't know rainbow festivals exist and half of the couchsurfers in Almaty appaearently come to her. She used to be a web programmer but threw everything away and became a yoga teacher. She gets good money out out it appearently and her appartment is european styled, it is designed with tast and it has internet. There is nothing to eat and I haven't eaten since morning but I have a place to sleep and that is everything I hoped for.
I don't have a lot of money. Just about 400 tenge from the 1000 that I got by exchanging my ramaining Kyrgyz money. I've already bought a sim card with it and enough credit to sent sms to Russia to Janela. So I really can't prolong my stay.

Me and Uki

The next morning I leave at 8 from Uki's appartment. It takes me two hours to get to the other side of Almaty in a snowstorm. It's cold, I am sick and snow is falling like crazy. But I am thinking that this kind of day is going to repeat over and over so it's a good time to get used to it. I start hithhiking towards the border. There are esentially 4 cities on the way: Issyk, Chilik, Chungze and Zharkent. After Zharkent it is really the border.
The police sees me and they say they'll stop a car for me. They start waiving their sticks and scaring the shit out of everyone just to get me a lift.

Policement hitchhiking for me

They get me a car to Issyk, a guy who is driving pharmacy products there. He is very nice, he doesn't hate me because the police forced him to take me as a passenger and he invites me home.

I hesitate a bit, I want to be at the Chinese border as soon as I can. But I am feeling very bad, cold, tired and I also hungry. I feel it would be stupid to refuse. My host goes to the market to buy some food, just for the occasion. He is very nice to me, has two children and a lot to eat. He has running  warm water in his house which reminds me that Kazakhstan is really much more rich than Kyrgyzstan.

My host's grandchildren

He cooks plov, a little different than the Kyrgyz version but still very tasty. I sleep great and feel a little better. It is still snowing but just a little bit. But I better hurry, I don't intend to register in Kazakhstan so I need to stay less than five days unless I want to negociate with the border officers again. And I don't expect short processing from the chinese side either so unless I want to spend the night at the border, I better get myself there early and legally.
I hitch several cars before I get to Chilik. Then, a bus takes me for free to the last intersection before China. I am now more east than ever before by hitchhiking. My last record was Janela's house in Tegizchil. But now I have passed it by a few kilometers.
The road is white with snow and white mountains around it. But soon the landscape and weather changes. There is a microclimate around Zharkent, the weather is warmer and no snow. And I am only 40 kilometers from the border, khorgos. I am really going to China! The first new country that I will visit without Ilona. My first boat hitchhike is approaching. In some time, I will be looking for boats from China to Korea.

Two more rides before the chinese border and then I see the first barricade. Some Kazakh army chieftain tells me I cannot go on foot. I am not surprised. I have read Remi's blog, the french guy I met in mountains around Karakol along with Clark and Miri and he writes how they had to pay expensive taxis through the border at Iktersham (Kyrgyz/China) and there just wasn't any other way.
No way I am paying for taxis. But the chinese are worse byrocrats than Kyrgyz and Kazkah so I am not so sure I will manage to have my way.
The chiftain tells me that I have to take a bus. I ask him if the bus is free, he tells me no. I tell him that I am going to camp in front of his border control cabin until he finds a free solution for me. A bus comes and he puts me on it among the passengers.
The bus doesn't have seats, it only has a lot of beds. People are randomly sitting on the beds and it is really unconfortable. But I feel like being in this bus is the safest choice because I look like an ordinary tourist and everybody likes ordinary tourists.

It takes forever to reach the Kazakh border. The road is full of giant buildings and fences with Kazakh emblems. Kazakhstan is really making a fuss about that border. They are building some kind of center for international cooperation and they are making sure tourists see it before they arrive to China. If this is the Kazakh side, I can't even imagine the chinese. Maybe I should have gone through Iktersham, Kyrgyzstan and tried my luck with the taxis.
At last, Kazakh control post. They ask me questions about where I was, where I will go and they process me. I want to go to the Chinese control but again, I must take the bus, say the Kazakh lady.
"Is the bus free?"
"I think it's 500 tenge (about 4 dollars)"
"And if I go on foot?"
"Then the chinese will shoot."
"Do they have good aim?"
"Surely better than ours."
Turns out the bus is the same one as the one who brought me to the Kazakh border post. I get in again and this time, it's the chinese border control with cameras everywhere and everything electronic. I have to fill out an immigration form which I hand to the border guard together with my passport. He just writes something in it with his pen, puts on a stamp and lets me go. He actually doesn't even need my visa, he just needs to take a photo with his camera, I am already in his database and everything is computerized anyway. He knows everything about my visa, about me, and probably can read my thoughts.
I exit the border post prepared to face buses and taxis and burocracy. But nothing. I am in china. I have done it without breaking any of my rules. The road is open.

170 km/h with vodka

We are going around Ouzbekistan because they are too much of an assholes. They want a registration every 3 days. Kazakhstan wants it only once and we are not giving it to them.
This morning, I publish blog posts quietly on the computer besides a sleeping asian beauty. She doesn't wake up until the phone rings. They all sleep on carpets. On their beautiful colorful carpets.
In the morning they bring us 30 kilometers in our direction towards Oral. I call Orianne and ask her to check on Nata. Maybe I am a bit of a control freak but turns out Nata had the same idea and Orianne is already in contact with Nata. Interesting.

We get a lift to Oral. We are close to Russia, people drink vodka in this region, our driver says. We continue towards Aktobe. Nothing stops except an asshole who thinks the picture from cinderella from Disney on Ilona's notebook is sexy. How desperate can you get? He has one of those faces you just want to punch, has stupid sunglasses and spits all the time. After a while Ilona just decides to go away withou giving any reason. It's a good choice.
We try to stop anything that has wheels before that assholes comes here again and continue bothering us.

A truck stops. After the episode with our turkish drivers we prefer not to stop trucks on Kazakh roads. 10 kilometers of bad road can mean an hour more. 100km means end of party.
It's not any truck, this is Europe! I can see Latvia! I forgot how to say hello in latvian but this feels like home. The driver is young, his name is Alex and he is Belarussian. What's the difference, it is Europe! So far away, a bit of home. This is ironic I am calling Belarus home, I've never even set foot there.
But this guy has some aura, he has gone through something in his life. He has children somewhere but doesn't see them, he spends too much time working in Latvia. He gives us the impression that a tragedy of some sort occured in his life but we will never know. What we know is that we feel safe with this guy, safer than in a long time. He doesn't have an organised fridge and cooking tools as the turkish trucks have. But he gives us space and lets us make tea. He has a giant heart. We sleep in a tent tonight,

Today is the day we meet Andrezh. Andrezh, in his own words is the russian son of Kazakh nation. He must be two meters tall, the kind of guy who breaks walls in American films.
He must be sixty but well in shape and is accompained by two younger guys, about our age. They both seem to hold him in the greatest respect, especially the driver. The driver's name is Adlet and he doesn't like us very much. He would want to continue the road without stopping for us but Andrezh's word is veto:
"If we don't help them, who will?"
And in this tiny cosmos we are entering, you don't argue with Andrezh.
Andrezh is a the president of a company which builds roads. No need to say they are of great need in Kazakhstan. He made his business flourish in a spectacular way and earned a lot of money and respect. You could feel the respect in Adlet's way of talking to him. However, Andrezh is one of those leaders who does not abuse his position. His is to attached to the hard life he experienced beforehand to slip out of reality.
The third guy is Talgat. He doesn't have any problem with us, he is kind of funny. He is talkative, as opposed to the silent Adlet and the first reassuring presence I find in the car.
Before we hit the road, we eat and drink. Me and Ilona haven't eaten anything since yesterday evening and even yesterday we have skipped lunch.
The reasons for that is that after being robbed of our 20 dollars by the bus driver in Turkmenistan we have decided not to spend any money in order to keep our average down to 2 euros a day. That goal was achieved yesterday or the day before yesterday but there was still no point in exchanging into Kazakh money because we won't be staying in Kazkhstan that long anyway and our money would turn into useless pieces of paper.
So now we realy completly invitations, our budget is truly zero.

Andrezh serves us vodka. "Bad times are coming", I hear myself thinking but on the other hand I trust my alcohol training in Georgia and Armenia. And I'm sure these Kazakh are no match for them. I notice the bottle, it's merely 40% industrial vodka. Compared to what we were used to drink, this is water. Moreover, asians have this gene that makes them worse at drinking alcohol than us caucasians. They get a headache quicker.
So I play the guy shocked by so much drinking ("oh my god we are not used to that in europe!") but in reality, I am fine.

In a moment, we are on our way. We are in an air-conditioned jeep, Adlet runs it 170 km/h on Kazakh roads. Sometimes, he reaches 180. He is a top class driver, he has reflexes and intuition. Ilona admires his driving skills.
He almost never uses breaks. We are going towards Almaty 2300 kilometers from here. If we stay with this ride, we are finishing the big detour around Uzbekistan and will end up about 30 kilometers from the border with Kyrgyzia.
Most importantly it means that we are sure to cross Kazakhstan before our visa expires.

We stop for lunch. I tell them that I'm writing a blog and I intend to write a book. Andrezh gets serious: "Oh yeah you should write a book. Write about Kazakhstan. Do you need money for that?" No I don't but from now Andrezh gets fond of the idea. He gets my point and why I'm not travelling like a tourist. If I am to write a book, it has to reflect some kind of reality, some kind of emotions, some kind of raw truth and most importantly a fair amount of vodka.

"Davaj Filip 100 gramov vipyom, patom pajdom." (Come on Filip, we'll drink 100 grams and then we go.)
That's the phrase we'll hear over and over again.
The tradition of drinking in Kazakhstan is similar to that in Georgia and Armenia. You say toasts, you drink, you don't have to finish your glass but you have to finish the bottle. There are some small differences in which I won't go into.
When Andrezh talks about 100 grams, it means 100 grams of pure alcohol and that is the dose each person has to drink. Take for example a bottle of 1L of 40% vodka. It weighs about 1000 grams, 400 grams of which are alcohol. That bottle will be drunk by 4 people to achieve the dose of 100g/person which is a reasonable quantity for one meal.
We eat huge portions of meat. Here in Kazakhstan, they eat meat. Full bowls of meat and meat only with some onions in the mix. After meatless Iran, that sounds great. It also helps to calm down the vodka in our stomachs.
Andrezh has trouble getting up sometimes. He got shot in Afganistan by sniper fire. He was there for three months, building a hospital.
Adlet helps him, he doesn't want his help.
"Fuck that, I can get up on my own!"
Andrezh has travelled the whole universe he says and Kazakhstan is a hell of a great country. "Write that in your book!"
He was pretty drunk when we met him but now he's getting it on heavily with the vodka. I am starting to get over my limit too.
"They can be very stupid sometimes", he says, "Sheep can beat some Kazakh at chess. WRITE THAT IN THE BOOK!!", he yells.
He brings more and more portions of meat and vodka to the table. The lovely waitress follows instructions but is thrown off balance a little. We drink the delicious tea with milk and even more vodka.
"Look how well we eat in Kazakhstan, Knigu zapisaj, write that in your book!"
We go. Andrezh is really drunk. "Knigu zapisaj!", write the book! He keeps repeating. And yes, I will write.
"If you don't write that book, we will find you!"
I must smile to that. Probably if I write that book, Andrezh will kill and bury me under a Kazakh road and if I do, Nata might do the same.
I take my place between Ilona and him. He tries to touch Ilona a little, nothing too much off limits but you never know. He is a guy, drunk, limits are quickly crossed if you give too much opportunities.
Andrezh isn't feeling well, he mostly needs human contact now. He tries to get if from Ilona but all he gets is shaking hands. It is I who gets most of the contact. I get touched on knees, kissed on the ear, whatever. But if Andrezh can be anything, he surely is not gay. All he wants is human contact and I know that whatever he does to me is completly void of sexual intention. So it doesn't bother me that much. It would maybe not be the case with Ilona.
"I am done with vodka", he says.
At one point he chockes,it looks bad, we stop the car. He gets back on his feet again.
"Fuck all of you, let's go!", he says. We continue at 170 kilometers an hour. Besides Andrezh being drunk this is the most confortable and fastest ride we could have imagined. Second fastest only to air transport.
Andrezh goes to sleep, he wakes up from time to time.
"Switch places with Ilona!", he says. That way, she'll be next to him. We refuse. No way. Adlet and Talgat look at us with surprise. You don't refuse things to Andrezh. But there is a reason Andrezh is such a respected authority. As the king from the little prince, he tries to give reasonable orders. Orders people can follow. We will not follow this one. He doesn't insist that much.

We continue our journey, we eat in a some local cafés. The food is great each time. The Kazakh sure know how to cook meat. Cow meat, sheep meat, camel meat, horse meat, whatever.
At night, we sleep at his friends house. It's one thing to be invited to our host's place, it's another thing to be invited by our hosts to a totally different place.
"Is there space for us? Because we can build a tent."
"We don't even know if there is space for us," says Andrezh, "maybe we will all sleep in your tent"

Turns out there is space for everyone. We have come to Andrezh's good friend and his family. He is blind and seems very wise. But same story with the vodka.
"Davaj Andrezh, Filip, 100 gramov vipyom, patom paydom."
So we drink again, Andrezh seems to have forgotten his good resolutions about ceasing to drink vodka. We eat also, the food is amazing and lots of it.

We go to sleep on beautiful carpets, they call it "on the street". It's a bed made outside the house, under a net to prevent mosquitoes and where you can sleep under the stars. One of the most romantic places.
And by some miracle I manage to catch some open wifi, get to the internet and update my blog. I get more info about Nata, seems she really thinks about going to Kyrgystan. Let's see what comes of it. I also post some information about Sylvain, my contact in Ashgabat to Ana, the croatian girl who will attempt this path by hitchhiking. It's not easy, she might need the help, I know for a fact that I felt lost in that country.

The next day we wake up with the sun. I didn't sleep much because of surfing the inertnet. But who knows when will I find a connection again?
We eat a wonderful lunch and we continue our path at top speed.

The same rituals repeat, lots of food, lots of vodka. I still manage to keep up but it is getting harder. Andrezh is clearly more russian than Kazakh, at least in terms of alcohol tolerance. Talgat drinks less than us. He says he might have to drive but he never does. We stop to visit a giant mosque. I am not that much into buildings but that one is amazing.

We see camels again, horses, a 4x4 wedding limousine. A bus with all the luggage randomly thrown on the roof. "Oh yeah, Uzbeks going to work", says Andrezh ironically. He is drunk again.
We make it only to Taraz, the border and Almaty is for tomorrow. We try to sleep there at some other friends of Andrezh but a women who looks like a wannabe prostitute (which is positive by my beauty standarts actually) comes out and politly sends us away. So Andrezh books two rooms in a luxury hotel. One for us, one for them. Tonight we sleep in our own hotel room for free, how cool is that!
Before we sleep though, we drink another two rounds of vodka and cognac. It's really getting too much.
We have some internet but I'm too tired to use it, I just sleep. I write something to Nata but I think I am too drunk to make any sense.
Theo writes to us with a solution to get a chinese visa in Bishkek. He tells us that he is safely in Isfahan. Great news. He will be there in six weeks, can we wait for him? I think we can.

We wake up, I didn't sleep enough and we are on our way again. Brunch 150 kilometers from the Kirgiz border. Giant bowl of meat. It's deliscious but I'm starting to have enough of all that meat. What I would really want is vegetables.

"Come on Filip, let's drink 100g and after we go", says Andrezh for the last time. The waiter throws us a despising look, it's 9 in the morning. Andrezh is miles away from caring about how other people feel about him, especially her. He is smart enough though not to make Ilona drink, she just might throw up.
So we drink for the last time.

We are 30 kilometers from the border when he lets us go. Georgian goodbye. Thanks Andrezh. You're a solid guy.
"Knigu zapisay!" (write your book!) He says in a threatening way.
And we are gone.

This is Kazakhstan

We race through the night under the stars. Everything is shaking. There is a stink of sheep under us. We lose our truck drivers, out of sight. In about 30 kilometers a paved roads starts. It will continue all the way to Benyeu.
the cars speed up to 90km/h. The sensation is unbelivable. We are flying under the full moon.
In the city they separated us into two cars. I am a little suspiscious but Ilona is allright. She comfirms she's allright. Ok then; I hope this isn't a second mistake.
Our drivers are all tough guys. They carry a gun in case they're attacked because they also carry money. Each of them is fluent in martial arts. Seriously, don't fuck with the Kazakh, don't try to manipulate them. These people eat a russian for lunch and an armenian for dinner. Don't be confused by the slanty eyes, these guys aren't obediant chinese.
They like to make jokes, to test us. You have to keep a face. As we saw on the border, the Kazakh have a very well developped sense of humour. They don't offer anything as turkish, armenians, even georgians, they wait for us to be prepared to pay for it. They expect a fair behaviour. Then they give.
This way, they invite us for lunch. No need for unnecessary politeness: "If I don't want to invite you then I wouldn't help you. So be quiet and eat"
When a Kazakh says "be quiet", it means be quiet. It doesn't mean more or less. It isn't an attack. They tell what they think. Briefly and directly.
They ask us smart questions. Why are we doing this, what is our goal. They nod on the reply, it makes sense to them. They will help us.
I think they like us.
"Why are you just sitting there? Take a photo of that camel! Do you have camels in your country? No. So take a photo of that camel!"
This way of communicating without any packaging throws you off balance sometimes. But we learn. You have to be strong, give in to reasonable demands, reject the unreasonable ones. It works the other way around. They expect to be hospitalable to us but we are expected to say what we need. If we can't express ourselves then to hell with us, they don't read minds.
At nightfall, we slept in a a village more than 100km after Benyeu. So fast. We slept in a tent in front of the house.
"What the fuck do you think do you think you are doing here?", says the house owner. He is joking of course, testing us, but for a time, I could hear myself breathe.
We got water because we asked for water, we got breakfest because we asked for tea. We didn't get a shower because we didn't ask and our newly found frinds were amazed what pigs we are not to ask for a shower when there is one inside.
The tea is amazing. It's a new kind of tea. They pour cold milk in a bowl, they complete it with tea and then pour boiling water inside. It is delicious. I can't get enough of it which is fortunate because they drink it over and over.
We start to connect with our newly found Kazakh. They are running a sheep business. They breed them in Atyrau and sell them in Aktau. They are a big happy family, tough as hell but smily faces. The youngest one is 21 years old and knows how to say "je t'aime" in french. In Kazakhstan me and Ilona are brother and sister, it makes us laugh. And it's not far from the truth as I said earlier.
I can't feel completely confortable with them. Something about them is dangerous, something throws me off balance. I kind of have trust in them though. Maybe I just feel too soft compared to these people.
Yermo is asking why I didn't sleep with any georgian girls. He also asked about how do we make sex in europe. He just tries to test us, he's a sweet guy otherwise.
He brings us to Dossor where a small but direct road goes directly to Aktobe without taking a huge detour through Oral.
If we catch a car there, he says, we'll be there extremely quick. we also get some food for the road. It's some delicious potato fried tingys. We eat all of them for lunch. We hitchhike about 20 kilometers in the direction of Aktobe but then the roads gets awful and empty. Plus, people are warning us about this region, not to stay at night. Ilona is getting a little upset, I don't know why. She gets this ironic smile indicating that any minute she will explode. And of course "nothing's wrong".
I get the path of deadly trinity is psychologically hard, I just hope we will make it.
We decide to turn around, we hitchhike back. The guy goes directly to Atyrau. He says that here, everybody belongs to a mafia. When I ask him what mafia he belongs to, he just laughs. He says if they catch a guy, they might rob you and beat you. A girl is safe. They have some ethics. If I travel wtth a girl, I should be safe. The amount of should probably depends on the amount of vodka these people drink. But against all stereotypes we haven't seen too much alcohol in Kazakhstan. Not a drop actually.
From Atyrau we get several more lifts towards Oral. A lot of people warn us to leave this region: Bandits, kidnappings, whatever.
A family going in the opposite direction stops for us two times. They beg us not to sleep outside, to ask someone to put a tent in their garden. They go and find us a cardboard with the city Oral written on it: "This might help you but please, whatever you do, don't stay outside at night".
The desert looks peaceful, I don't know where the danger comes from. But we've got so many warnings that something must be true.
We decide that if we sleep there, we'll walk as far in the desert as we can until we're hidden by the horizon. Cobras and scorpions are less dangerous than people.
Sagindik, a father in his fifties turned around to pick us up. He's calm, kind, with a sense of humour and you feel the Kazakh direct way of communication. No bullshit. Even though he is in his fifties, we don't feel the generation gap. We talk a lot, in russian, I feel like we are having a connection, I trust that guy.
"Do you need a shower?" he asks.
This could sound offensive in a lot of different situation but our answer is clear and without artifice: Yes!
Our skin is greasy and full of dust, we still smell of sheep and my fingers are dried to the bone. He drives us to a river. It's beautiful. It's reall wide yet not deep. I can almost cross from one side to the other without losing ground.
Ilona slowly goes into the water. She has this expression on her face, ready to burst.
"So far so good but if we talk about it, yeah, I'll explode"
Ok, I'm letting that go. Maybe this is about Armenia again, maybe she wants to return there. Or maybe, after 3 months, I have started to annoy her. Time will tell.
Sagindik takes us home to eat something. Oh my gosh the food is delicious! We eat horse for the first time! Yeah here people eat horse meat and whatever it's so good, Ilona is a little taken aback but I am too busy eating to think about what I'm eating. Butter also is amazing, I eat it like cream, loads of it. And a million other things I have never seen before. I want to eat them all!!!
And tea, oh my god their tea is great, I won't survive in europe, I have to keep making it when I return home. Kazakh tea with milk.
The family is composed of Sarabanu, his wife, a teacher of Kazakh literature.
"Do you know some interesting Kazakh authors?"
"Yeah, Nazerbaiev"
"Your president? Really? Did he write something of note?"
"Yeah. The constitution."
When I tell you the Kazakh have a sense of humour. They reckon it's a democracy though. Nobody bothers you in these endless steppes.
We meet Shamara, the mother. She doesn't like me much but she likes Ilona. He has a son and a daugter. She is as beautiful as it is possible for a woman to be. She is Nata, style, asian version, slightly more photogenic, borderline perfection.
She doesn't talk much. She is a doctor, an epidemologist. Sounds wicked. Their son is 4 years old, he doesn't talk. Sometimes he speaks words of english. It is very strange, the parents are helpless, no one knows what happened and what to do.
Shamara sees my friendship bracelets, I have five of them now. She asks me if I am some kind of shaman, maybe I can do something. This reminds me of Alexandra David-Néel who used this lie tons of times to get to Tibet. But no, I am not a shaman, sorry, just friendship bracelets. Pretty powerful ones I might add but still.
Ilona says he probably has Autism. It can be diagnosed at 2 years of ages but where can you find a competent person to handle it in the steppes of west Kazakhstan?
"He lives in another world". Babushka isn't shoked or anything, she accepts it quietly and with pride. She is a proud woman.
Sagindik takes us to the lake. He reckons we must see it and he is right, he is so right. I have rarely seen something so beautiful. Crystal clear water with crystals of salt converging into the endless and calm surface of the salt lake. The sunset reflects on the water in a slightly orange shade. Orange, that sounds familiar and for the first time I really miss Nata. I kind of wish she could see this.

Lake with sunset

I wonder what she's doing, what is she feeling. It's so strange to wonder about other people's states of mind, it's so far from our imagination. I wonder what Orianne is doing. I wonder how is Claire, I wonder how Pedro is organising his trip to Iceland. This lake takes me far away.
Soon, we return. We have a room, we have our privacy. The Kazakh don't force us into ridiculous room separations because we are of different genders like it is in Armenia. And we take a shower! Actually they don't have a shower, they have a sauna. This is such a luxury. We are desperate for a shower and we get all this. First time I see a sauna!
Ilona plays the traditional guitar a little. Shamaran, the grandmother who doesn't like me says: "what are you doing just sitting there, don't you see how wonderfully Ilona plays? Take a picture!"
So I take pictures of her and of Ayem too. Then, by a miracle, Sagindik says he has internet. This is our first aquaintance with uncensored internet since Armenia. It feels weird but it is more than necessary. I have a ton of blog posts to add, I write them on the way into my computer, waiting for the ever rare wifi.
Weird thing I just thought about Nata, she has written to me and what she writes doesn't reassure me. She will attempt something very difficult, at least in the first few days. Actually maybe she has already started. She is one of the most resourceful person I know, nevertheless; I have the same impression as if she had left me climb Damavand. But I don't think I could have done anything in this case, it is beyond my control. Whatever people say or have said about Nata, she is brave. I think this trip isn't one incredible story, it is a web of incredible stories and we are just one of them. So god speed Nata, I really bealieve in you.
By the way, Kazakhstan radio is tune to frequency number 15.

Nothing

Kazakhstan is an endless desert. It's full moon, we can see our shadows clearly. The border just closed just behind our backs again and the road is empty. There is no point in hitchhiking obviously. We are going to sleep. A few trucks are parking there, Ilona tries to speak to one but without success. He doesn't speak a word of russian. But he understands turkish, wait a minute, he is turkish. That means dinner! So cool, we barely touched our food reserves!
But it's necessary too, we have to regain the twenty dollars we lost to that stupid turkmen driver. That means not buying anything for five days.
Dinner aside, the trucks are going to Kygrystan! One through Almaty and the second one directly, or as directly as you can go through Kazakhstan which means a 1000 kilometer longer ride than it would be if there was a normal road system.
He goes through Aktau, Benyeu then Atyrau, Oral and Aktobe. From there he goes south towards Taraz and finally Bishkek.
I negociate a ride to Aktau au first because I want to be polite and then extend it to Benyeu. I think he and his friend are prepared to take us all the way but we just cannot ask them as much.
Later, we will be glad we didn't secure our way all the way to Kyrgystan. Now they are talking about a 6-day ride, 7 days at most. We are 19/08 at night, with our fast ride through Turkmenistan we have a whole 10 days, that is more than enough.
We go to sleep with the quiet impression of having crossed the terrible Turkmenistan against all odds and having a secure life ahead of us again.
"Kazakhstan gives me a warm impression," Ilona says.
Next day, we wake up at 8:30 and eat breakfest. Our turkish truck driver has chocolate cream; it's amazing, we can't get enough of it. We are travellers again, hunting for rides and for food.
At least the rides are a safe thing.
Safe yes, fast is another story. We are getting aquainted with the Kazakh roads. 5 km/hour, 10 km/h top speed. The truck is shaking at each bump. It's funny at first but quickly it becomes tiring after a while. It becomes downright concerning when after an hour we are barely ten kilometers from the border. But why are we surprised, that is what 10km/h means. That also means 10 hours for 100 kilometers and not enough time to cover the 3000 kilometers of kazakhstan.
Today we won't get to Benyeu, the intersection where many cars drive from Uzbekistan. The road is horrible, when there is asphalt on it it's even worse than when it's just dust. Asphalt just create more bumps. Stupid soviet roads. After 6 hours of having our asses shaken by the bad road, after 6 hours of eating dust our nerves are in a very bad state. We can't sleep, we can't write, it shakes to much. We can't talk otherwise we'll eat dust. We can't do anything. This is torture. And we know that this will continue for hours and hours.
I am lying on the bed in the truck, I am more comfortable than Ilona. She is sitting on the seat and her back is hurting now. 5 km/h now, we have slowed down. Our truck driver is also getting desperate. He wasn't expecting this. He is cursing in Turkish. We don't talk, everyone is tired.
Before this trip, I have had sleepless nights from nightmares about Kazakhstan. I have expected us to die in many ways from being thrown into the desert without water to be eaten by hungry wolves. I have never expected us to die out of boredom. This is psychologically very hard. Both me and Ilona are on the verge of exploding but what can we do. We can scream out of despair but what good will it do? You will never experience true boredom until you ride in a truck in south-west Kazakhstan. And believe me, pure boredom sucks.
We stop for lunch at a restaurant. We don't have Tenge, the Kazakh money so we ask if they take dollars. They don't. If we have a six day ride chances are the drivers will not pay for everything.
"You cannot pay?", says the lady from the restaurant, "Come on and eat for free!"
So we have lunch and it is delicious. We eat some miniature georgian xinkhali and a Kazakh version of the thing we got in Turkmenistan from the couple who rode us to Turkmenbashi.
We ride 5 hours more without anything happening and we go to sleep. We are exhausted. Too much boredom is so tiring. We both feel like shit. We just want to jump forward in time. Sleep. Our truck driver says one of us can sleep inside. It's tempting, the bed is soft and the ground hard.
So I make a mistake and I let Ilona sleep inside. Of course she is a grown up and she is responsible for her own decisions but it is my duty as her travel companion to advise her as much as it is in my power. I didn't do that.
Nothing happenned really, but it was a close call. Ilona handleled the situation perfectly and everything was fine. Next time, we'll be smarter.
The next day it's even worse. The road still sucks, there are patches of new asphalt which last for two kilometers and then the road gets even worse. Psychologically it's even worse because your hopes just go up and down. With Ilona we fight over anything because our nerves are just ready to burst. We create a list of subject to avoid in order not to get into arguments. But as the truck bounces on this fucked up road the list of subjects grows bigger and bigger.
I have the seat now, it's even more hell than yesterday. For some time now I am trying to convince Ilona to leave the truck drivers and try our luck with someone else. My idea is to part ways in Dossor where a direct road goes to Aktobe. The truck drivers are doing a circle through Oral, this saves us 1000 kilometers. First Ilona doesn't want to. After a while, she agrees and even wants to leave them as soon as Beyneu.
"You are lucky these trucks took you", says another Kazakh hitchhiker (hitchhiking is common here), "Nobody will take you without money here, trust me. The only way to travel for free is with truck drivers and there is no way you'll get to Kyrgizia before the end of your visa. Take a train."
He just convinced me but Ilona jumps into the discussion: "Let's try now!"
There is one car passing. We wave at it. Oh my god it stops. IT STOPS! They are going to Atyrau. 400 kilometers from here. And they are running 60km/h.
"Sadayte na furu!" He is putting us into the truck. There is a lot of space, they use it to transfer sheep. And there starts a hell of a ride, better than russian mountains on disneyland. Everything is shaking as we race through the desert on the back of truck under the sunset.
Pretty effing romantic.