I’m writing this from a guesthouse in Samarkand, Uzbekistan. After having breakfast with 1 backpacker, 2 motorbike riders, and 2 other cyclists…we all used similar words to describe this country noted for it’s “hospitality”. Things like, “over-rated”, “disappointed”, “a waste of time”, “not worth it”. We aren’t really sure why everyone goes into Kazakhstan with hopes, and leaves shaking their heads. All cyclists and motorbike riders note on the friendliness of the Russians, which was so true for me as well…but for the “amazing hospitality of Kazakhs”…I didn’t find it so much nor have many other travelers. Okay, maybe I’m over exaggerating…I did have a lot of nice things happen when I’m on the side of the road and general friendliness…but NOTHING compared to Uzbekistan or other places I’ve traveled.
Who is in charge of this propaganda? As a solo woman, I would advise any other woman to be extremely, EXTREMELY cautious in this country. The Kazakhs will shit talk the Russians but I received nothing but friendliness and generosity from these minorities throughout the country. I always knew if I had problems, to just wave down a Russian truck driver or bus driver.
Granted…I did have some really great moments in Kazakhstan…and did meet a fair share of wonderful people.
Okay, so onto the first part of Kazakhstan, Bishkek to Balhash (to the North along the great Kazakh Steppe).
May 10
I leave Bishkek on the 10th and head for the border. I’ve decided to ride for a couple weeks as my generous host in Almaty is on vacation and thought to kill some time before heading to the city. It’s only about 15km to the border and the crossing is not a real problem at all. In retrospect, a breeze compared to Kazakhstan to Uzbekistan.
There is a Finnish family driving across, they work at the Embassy in Almaty. They even offer me a ride.
In my, “I’m tired of this shit” way, I am swarmed by truck drivers at the booth for my stamp and I give attitude to the a-hole that cuts in front of me. If you had found me 4 years ago in China, I would have been standing there for 5 hours letting people push ahead…but I don’t put up with that shit any longer.
The other drivers here my tone and English and insist I’m next. The basic questions come along…although not about children or husband. Just, “Where did I come from?” , “How many kilometers?” ,“Where am I going?”
As I begin to leave the station, I even get pats on the backs and signs/words of encouragement. I’m thinking, “Kazakhstan is going to be great.”
I’m not ripped off exchanging money either.
It’s not too hot and there seems to be a breeze. Within a few kilometers after passing the border I’m in flat countryside and I can see some mountain ranges in the far distance.
As soon as I begin to ride West I am hit with one of the worst side winds ever. I am reminded of the time in Inner Mongolia when I was riding with Jason. To test the force of the wind, he pee’d with his back to the wind and the stream must have nearly reached the other side of the road. This wind may even be worse. I can’t ride because it’s gusts and I’m being blown out into traffic. I get off to attempt to walk it and I can barely keep the bike upright and close to being blown over.
I’m beat so quickly and I pull over along some trees to see if I can wait it out.
A station wagon pulls over with one driver and no passengers. He offers to put the bike in the back, or something like that. No, I wave him off politely.
The car comes back about 10 minutes later with a passenger. The passenger exits and comes over to me and squats next to me.
Basic questions, name, husband, baby, country…
The wind is blowing strong and he is telling me that I have to be careful with the trees. Then he is saying something about his home. Okay? Am I being invited for a homestay? Then I catch him winking at the driver during this conversation. No, this isn’t going to work and I’m put on guard immediately. I may not understand the language but I understand men, I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday.
Then I have him wrapping his arms around me as if I’m cold from the wind, and it’s not concern…it’s just a basic sex pest that has some effed idea of me because I’m a white, Western/American woman, without a man around.
I push him off.
More winking to the driver and some stuff I don’t understand. I express over and over, now with impatience, that I don’t understand Russian and to speak English.
Then I have him shoving his hands up the back of my shirt. That’s enough. I push him off and get up. He continues speaking Russian and I continue with “I don’t understand, English!” Well, he manages to get some English out with screaming, “Sex Sex Sex!!!” at me.
It’s time to get out of there. There are no cordial goodbyes, he just gets in the car laughing with his buddy and they drive off to the town ahead.
I only make about 35km in Kazakhstan before I call it the day and decide to find a place to sleep. It will be impossible to set up my tent in this wind and I know the wind generally gets worse later in the day. So, I sleep in here.
There is a beautiful sunset as I can see the mountain ranges to the South. The unfortunate part about sleeping under the road is that there is a late wake-up call from the sun and I don’t realize that the next morning that the wind isn’t so bad because now I’m in a wind tunnel. On the road around 9:30, the view from my tunnel.
