Week One

“What the hell are you two still doing in here?!” our tin-can bus-driver apparently exclaimed in Russian as he U-turned on the vast junction and chucked us out. Fresh out the airport, we were lost on Almaty’s broad, tree-lined boulevards flowing with high class cars, SUVs and stylish people.

We found the cheapest hotel next to a miniture Eiffel tower. Hotel Saulet had a musky foyer with a fat old Russian man fixed to a ragged chair opposite a bulbous TV. Our days were generally filled with wandering the streets and bazaars assaulting the locals with our little cameras. We also wanted to buy a motorbike, but in a city of brand new, gas-hungry SUVs this proved impossible.

The desire to see a camel (and if possible buy one) led Cuthbert and I to Almaty II train station, a huge Eastern-European style structure housing cavernous halls that serve very little purpose. I ordered two tickets to Turkestan (a town in the South) while Cuthbert’s bag exploded in the search for his passport.

We then moved to the station Cafe to chill with a coffee. Another huge hall, this had the appearance of a ball room with pastel-peach walls and white plaster decorations lit by tall windows at the far end. We sat there in silence, Cuthbert with his head bowed over his guidebook. I was studying the room: the group of eight Kazakh men to the left of the windows; three security women chatting at a table on the right; and the staff floating around the empty tables.

“Kazakhstan still has occurences of the Human Plague” Cuthbert punctured the silence without moving.

On the train, having spent the night before at a nameless hotel above the station, we met Almaz, a 23 year old oil worker for PetroKaz. Almaz spoke decent English and became welcome company for the 19 hour journey. The train was remarkably comfortable, built in China with air-con and plenty of room. An elderly Kazakh that resembled the Dalai Lhama sat pensively throughout the trip with a pot of tea while we both glued our cameras to the window and Almaz chatted beside us.

Within a few hours a gruff, mean-looking Russian policeman checked Cuthbert’s passport to which he issued a throttling motion to his own neck, complete with sound effect. Almaz explained that we should have registered within five days of arriving. The man looked at mine briefly then walked away shaking his head: “Americans!”.

On arrival in Turkestan Almaz introduced us to his brother who dragged us over to a marshoulka (dilapidated mini-bus) to the big attraction. Entering the Mausoleum we passed a man walking a lawnmower along the desert srub outside the fortress wall. The Mausoleum was remarkable: a giant sandy arch connected to a turquoise dome was all contained with half a defensive wall on one side and an expanse of desert on the other (where we saw our first camels). We stumbled upon a cafe for lunch and were served a dense chicken dish laced with ketchup. Western music filled the empty room from a huge sound system.

Back at the station we told a taxi driver to take us to Sauran for 3000 Tinge. The short bearded man obliged then drove us back to the Mausoleum: “Yes – Sauran”. Cuthbert wanted to cut our losses until an old Mercedes pulled up along side and he stepped into action. The driver spoke a bit of English and, after some confusion, solved our problem. His only stipulation for the help was that Cuthbert emailed his English friend, Mark Isles. On the journey to Sauran our driver sipped vodka as he drove in the wrong lane.

Parked under a train-line bridge, we grabbed all our luggage and ran through the desert towards the ruins of an ancient Silk Road city. The dry heat didn’t matter, the thrill of exploring a former Silk Road hub gave our imaginations a buzz as we ran around snapping away.

Back at the train station we walked onto an old Russian train to find a middle-aged Russian-Kazakh woman reclining in the bunk opposite ours fanning herself gracefully. She attempted conversation with us, but this regressed to showing a slideshow of our photographs to a small crowd. We introduced ourselves as Cuthbert and Archibald.