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.
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| Barren no-mans-land between Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan |
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| The people: they flock |
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| 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.
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| "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.
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| Feeling free circa 1991 |
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| Symmetry for the win |
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| "For sale" |
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| Twins. Photobommers. San Francisco. Winning |
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| 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.
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| Why did we do this? |
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| Exhaustion. New jumper. |
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| Feeling stylish in my new jacket. |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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Threatening to eat a berry to Maddy's protest
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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.
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| High levels of security. |
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| Perhaps could do with some electrical remodeling |
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| 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."
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| 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.
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| Eric, tell us your woes. Also, who is that guy behind us? |
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| Notice my stolen, shabby hotel slippers |
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| 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.
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| You can hardly see the view, but it's there. |
Borat was nowhere to be found.
