Borat, where art thou?

Half term was a welcomed treat when it arrived upon us; and with it, a strong desire to leave the country. Apparently by foot, and apparently to Kazakhstan. After hopping on a bus and a taxi to the border, we made it to the incorrectly translated sign wishing us "good luck" instead of "have a pleasant journey." More sinister, but also more accurate. The process itself took maybe 2-3 hours altogether; just a couple of passport checks, bag check, and filling out of declaration forms. The very competent immigration officers on the Kazakh side were clearly very up-to-date on their knowledge of who was allowed in and out, I decided, as he asked me if I was allowed in without a visa. With a smirk, I assured him that I was, and sauntered through. If only it was always that easy.

Barren no-mans-land between Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan

The people: they flock

Our hopeful, pre-customs faces

The other side can only be described as a mob scene of unofficial money exchangers and taxi drivers. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any ATMs and the exchange rate they offer for the worthless Uzbek som was 50% less than the official exchange rate. Nevertheless, we plowed through the offers to be driven around for $50 a head until we found a nice little marshrutka, and squeezed on, getting very close to our neighbours for the 2 hour ride to Shimkent. We completely lucked our when we arrived at our hotel; it turned out to be absolute paradise, and I somehow managed to find myself in the deluxe room with a cheeky mini bar that I completely raided to within an inch of its life.

"The other side"

We had a rainy first day in Shimkent, wandering around the independence square monuments, before finding ourselves in a bazaar. We stocked up on wooly winter socks and I found myself buying a full Kazakhstan tracksuit set in national colours, matching one Maddy had just bought. We matched, and we were happy.

Feeling free circa 1991

Symmetry for the win

"For sale"

Twins. Photobommers. San Francisco. Winning

Causing a nuisance with our Soviet squatting

After a shopping and rain filled two days in Shimkent, we found ourselves ready to move on to Turkestan. A country, no, but another city down the south of Kazakhstan. Now, Soviet trains tend to be notoriously excessively overheated; the hypochondria around these parts means that they'd rather sweat out every last morsel of water from their body than just put a jumper on and be a bit chilly. Therefore our 4 hour train from Shimkent to Turkestan was spent being passed out from the heat and playing sudoku. I also bought a jumper from a lady selling her wares up and down the carriages.

Why did we do this?

Exhaustion. New jumper.

Feeling stylish in my new jacket.

Inquiring whether the eggs were raw or hard boiled. They were hard boiled.

Our arrival at Turkestan was met by a hotel that probably needs to re-think their decor come early October. Christmas is bare ages away.

When the bells start ringing and the band begins to Play-aaay

Our first full day in Turkestan saw us visit some ruins called Sauram. It's basically city walls leftover from time gone by. I basically have no idea what the history behind it actually is. Just looked like some rocks to me, but we walked and had some food and took some photos. 

Threatening to eat a berry to Maddy's protest

After making a friend in the restaurant of our hotel, we were invited to the University of Turkestan the next day; no doubt, an institution of brilliance.  We arrived after a long walk down a blazing hot highway, to find a very modern building that had just been built this year. We were invited inside to meet a Turkish professor and make some awkward conversation with some very shy medicine students over tea, coffee, and samsa. Under a time constraint due to our train, we were quickly shuttled off to the filology department where the students had a 15 minute "meet some Brits" lesson, where we did a round robin of conversation, before being offered jobs to join their team. Unfortunately, Almaty came a-calling and a 17 hour train journey was screaming our names.

High levels of security.

Perhaps could do with some electrical remodeling

Impressive indoor decor. I feel like life is thriving.

The train journey started off in a fairly calm fashion. We played some card games; not even the normally questionable cards against humanity, and some sudoku was done. We decided to escape the cries of children and have a change of scenery in the restaurant cart. We had a delicious meal, microwaved to perfection before embarking on what I hear they call "a quiet drink."

Feeling quiet.

The cart was meant to close at 22:00, so it was a surprise when the waiter didn't want to give us our bill at this time, and almost demanded we stay until 23:00. We managed to almost finish up then, before meeting a man called Eric. A lovely man, about to escape a difficult parental relationship by embarking on a trip to KL. Upon hearing we were from England, he demanded he spend his dad's money on buying us drinks. Before we know it, 3am happened and we found ourselves getting some fresh air on a random Kazakh platform before stumbling 7 carriages back to our beds.

Eric, tell us your woes. Also, who is that guy behind us?

Notice my stolen, shabby hotel slippers

Trains - hygiene at its finest

Arriving in Almaty met for a traumatic experience for the boys. Dragged into a "bag check" by the police, they were accused of being drunk and a "fine" had to be paid. A fine/theft; a fine line. However, we all perked up upon arrival at our Sky Hostel which had views for days. 

 Our time in Almaty was spent frequenting Western food joints, wondering why Tashkent didn't think Starbucks was a worthwhile investment. Eventually, we made it to the very top of the city for a fantastic view from the TV tower. There was also a zoo, and I was re-united with ostriches; the most gorgeous of creatures.

You can hardly see the view, but it's there.

Borat was nowhere to be found.

Facing almost certain death

The past few weeks has seen me promoted to a PE TA. I say promoted, but really it’s just the same job, just with a lighter than light timetable and being instantly cool, because PE seems to be everyone’s favourite lesson; except for year 8 girls who appear to go down with a different ailment every 5 minutes. I spend most of my days floating around the school looking for classrooms that have a child’s birthday that day; aka a cake hunt. A promotion for my stomach, perhaps.

I’ve also being tutoring 3 siblings twice a week. This basically involves sitting on a very plush couch and having the 3 of them take turns to have me do their homework and wow them with my native English prowess. The middle child has taken to offering me tea, which I politely decline, as I wasn’t sure she knew how to make a cup. Turns out I was right; she saunters in one evening 10 minutes after leaving to “get a pen,” clutching this glass mug of honey coloured drink. I wonder how she’s clutching a glass cup filled with boiling water so tightly. Turns out that it was, in fact, cold water filled with tea leaves. I’ll give the girl credit; she’s got the basic idea right. Just putting it into practice turned out to be wildly unsuccessful. Needless to say I was more than relieved when her mum came home to rectify the situation.

This week saw us have a long 4 day weekend. Naturally, this has been a long time coming and we were eager to make a quick escape out of the city, to the mountains nearby. A quick hour and a half journey later and we were in the mountainous region of Chimgan; being one group of about two staying in our plush hotel that weekend. Our little cottages were rather spacious and provided the perfect setting for what can only be described as a tasteless rendition of Cards Against Humanity.

Our home; questionable stains and broken toilets by the time we left

Chalet livin'

Views for days

Day 1 was spent experiencing almost certain death on a cable cart up to the top of the mountain area we were in. It was a wise decision to look, neither up, nor down. Upon nearing the top, we were accosted by a man on a rock wielding a camera and throwing compliments towards our approaching car. Obviously we smiled encouragingly for what might be a man with a dream to be a photographer, and I further encouraged his career by happily buying our prints upon reaching the top.

Luckily they caught the smiles after we got over the initial shock

Do you even have any safety standards?

Does anyone even know this cable car ride is operating?

Our hike further up was brief but scorching, avoiding wild horses on the way. We found, and were vaguely successful at breaking into a weather station at the top, happily and thankfully avoiding arrest at the inappropriate posing done on said station. I am now expecting my invite to be an H&M model imminently.

Weather station not made for climbing on

I maintain we didn't get carried away

H&M, I'm awaiting your call now

The journey home was only slightly distressing, with our car bumping into another car’s wing mirror. Surprisingly, both cars stopped, if only for a 45 second yelling much before driving off with even more vengeance than before.

Look into the distance they said

We celebrated our survival to the mountains at a fast food place that conveniently served £1 cocktails and £3 bottles of champagne. Acting like the ballers that we clearly are, we made our way to a couple of other places throughout the course of the evening, eventually managing to get ourselves thrown out of one place for accidentally drinking someone's bottle of Jack Daniels and helping ourselves to their fruit platter. An honest mistake, it was agreed by all, as we were not so cordially removed by the bouncers. Not even sorry; apple and grapes are a perfect midnight snack.

 

Squadding

The Other Side of The Staff Room Door

This week started off with Independence Day here in the capital. Most public houses have been on lockdown post 11pm for the past few weeks, leaving us to enjoy the odd bevvy in the dark and in relative silence from wandering policemen outside. The celebrations of the actual day were scarce and apparently on a need-to-know basis. Thus, we wandered around until we found the most activity. This was centred around a punching machine with 50 men taking turns to prove their worth to future female potential via a rigged game. That is literally all there is to say about this apparent day of celebration; just severe lack of celebration.

Artistically placed flags

The streets were adorned for Independence Day

Feeling so free

Feeling free in front of Independence Square completely surrounded by policement

Wednesday was our 1^st official day of school with the children. Pre-nursery had quite a vibe going to it. On the big screen we have cartoons and nursery rhymes going - mainly to distract the ones crying from lack of mother presence.But at least they’re too distracted by this lack of parentage to start weeing all over the floor like the others. The rule is supposed to be that they’re potty trained and, to my obvious disgust and dismay, none of them are. Considering this not to be my responsibility, I take it upon myself to push them in the direction of another teacher once I notice the puddle around their legs. Combine that with the sand-play corner we’ve constructed and it’s pretty much just carnage with interludes of “happy and you know it” where no hand clapping or foot stomping comes from my direction. However, I have enjoyed taking a proactive role in nap time, utilising my motto of “lead by example.” Taking the bullet and offering to be the one that looks after the children during this crucial time of rest has led to me having basically every afternoon off, awaking just in time to sneak biscuits off their snack tray.

A ride on this sketchy cable car to forget the troubles of life

Too high and too rickety

Artsy shadow photo

This second week I took it upon myself to send a few strongly worded e-mails and have found myself loitering around year 5, pretending to help, when really they have more than enough staff. I amuse myself by letting the kids get away with everything and getting them to teach me derogatory Russian words. There’s nothing quite as satisfying as being allowed to skip the queue at lunch (like C YA suckers), whilst hurling these learnt terms back at them.

At least payday makes us feel like ballers

In other news, the hot water in the city is “being repaired.” Lord even knows what this entails, but the coming month shall have us awaiting a surprise ice shower that will last a week until they switch our district back on to the 21^st century. It must be remembered that they allowed a viber call of mine to go through last night after rejecting my Whatsapp, Facebook and Skype connection; and thus, I shall accept a sponge bath out of a kettle for a week in exchange for such Uzbek kindness.

Friday night saw us enter the Irish Pub rather early in the afternoon (straight from school, after a quick change to enhance that slut aesthetic). Who should we meet there but our lovely headmaster and a few colleagues. A few drinks later and the head whips out a nice shiny discount card that took him 2 years of excessive beer bills to acquire. Needless to say, my sassy inner self saw this and took the opportunity to win. Casually strolling inside the dimly-lit and smoky establishment, I approached the counter and asked to be introduced to the manager. Along he saunters, eyes widening as I extend my hand for an excessively aggressive handshake, never yet seen from a woman wanting to get married around these parts (stay in the kitchen, ladies). I explain that I’ve been in there spending millions of Som for weeks now and he nods and agrees as I stutter in neither Russian, nor English, nor any recognisable form of dialect. I’m not sure why there was agreement because it was all nonsense. Never-the-less, he leaves me making what I thought was interesting, but realistically, awkward conversation with the bar staff for a few minutes until he returns brandishing a loyalty card with me. I took it with joy, brandishing it in the faces of all those who doubted me outside, relishing in the challenge of having to attend a pub gathering 4 times a week in order to rack up points and fulfil my promise. I also impressed and-or embarrassed my new boss so it was kinda win-win all evening.

Loyalty share fare us well

Referring back to the title, the other side of the staff room is not much to be excited about. It’s small and the smell of burning laminate ruins the calm of lack of children. Good luck getting a computer, but what’s even worse, is the luck you’ll need to grab a samosa when someone brings some in “to share”. I say “to share”, because it’s like an episode of The Hunger Games.

So many illegal metro photos, it shan't be long now

Mandatory photo day; not as traumatic as actual school days