Foray
I just arrived back from a small journey that took me around a giant loop in Kazakhstan. This includes about six days on trains, two separate seven hour taxi rides, and a whole lot of city bus joyriding. The main point was to go to Almaty and have a mid-service physical performed on myself. The physical turned up three expected findings; 1) I’m healthy 2) My weight is the same 3) I have no hernia And one unexpected finding: 1) The doctor was a lady. What can you do? Things got to get inspected.
The next region over (toward the east) is the Aktobe oblast (region). To go there by train from Uralsk (my oblast city), you need to cross through a sliver of Russia. Passing in and out of mother Russia, there is an hour and twenty minute stop to check for proper documents and contraband with drug sniffing cockerspaniels. Kazakhstan citizens can come and go out of Russia freely. But PCVs (Peace Corp Volunteers) are technically supposed to have a transit visa. No one really worried about it until PCVs started to get detained which was causing headaches for PC and the American embassy. A transit visa is expensive and a hassle to get. So what all this means is that I had to go to the Uralsk train station and get into a taxi 50 feet away from the track where I would’ve boarded the train, then went seven hours south to Atyrau, a city whose train runs on a different track.
Atyrau’s an oil town and is notorious for ruffians, high ballers, and expensive hotels. The secret is that in the train station you can get a twelve hour room with only three other strangers for about $6. I decided to take that challenge and ended up meeting Zhanbek (literally; Soul). We spoke in Kazakh and ended up having a spiritual conversation about life, Islam, and Christianity. Zhanbek, like many other young Kazakhs, is a cultural Muslim, which means that the extent of his religious behavior is saying, ”I’m Muslim.” I can’t get too complex with my language yet but I simply shared the basics of my faith and encouraged him to seek the Truth.
The train left the next morning. I had a Koopay ticket which put me in a small room with three other people as opposed to a full train car divided into open sections of six beds a piece and an overflow of ticketless passengers who secure a standing room only position by tossing a bribe to the stewards. I was with three youngish people. One guy brought a giant hunk of horsemeat that he generously offered, from which I would’ve eaten more than my portion had I not withstood the gluttony rising up within me. Soon after we started moving the vendors began to trickle through. People, mostly older ladies, will get on at different stops with bags of products, toss a bribe to the stewards, and lurch through the narrow aisles of the wagons peddling their wares. Water, sunflower seeds, socks, smoked fish, dombiras (two stringed guitar like instruments), booze, and many more non exotic delights. The two fellows in my Koopay each bought themselves a beer. Not twenty minutes later our door suddenly opened and a pair of policemen found what they wanted; some dude with a beer. Turns out its illegal to drink in a Koopay. The fine is about $10 and is questionable whether it ever goes to anything else than the receptive officer’s disposable income. So what about the ladies with bags full of beer? Well, they’re not drinking, they’re selling, and there’s nothing wrong with trying to make a buck.
In Kazakhstan, if you’re hot and sweaty from the summer time heat waves, there’s only one necessary common sense remedy; piping hot tea. Cold water, they say, will never quench the thirst and will cause you to continue to sweat. With hot tea, you cool down and stop sweating. At first I was about to laugh in some faces. Now, after trying it, I can honestly say I do not understand why people believe this lie. Maybe it just doesn’t work for me. I’m the type of guy where hot tea makes me hot. Which is why I drank ice cold water on the way to Almaty..about 7 Liters of it.
The next region over (toward the east) is the Aktobe oblast (region). To go there by train from Uralsk (my oblast city), you need to cross through a sliver of Russia. Passing in and out of mother Russia, there is an hour and twenty minute stop to check for proper documents and contraband with drug sniffing cockerspaniels. Kazakhstan citizens can come and go out of Russia freely. But PCVs (Peace Corp Volunteers) are technically supposed to have a transit visa. No one really worried about it until PCVs started to get detained which was causing headaches for PC and the American embassy. A transit visa is expensive and a hassle to get. So what all this means is that I had to go to the Uralsk train station and get into a taxi 50 feet away from the track where I would’ve boarded the train, then went seven hours south to Atyrau, a city whose train runs on a different track.
Atyrau’s an oil town and is notorious for ruffians, high ballers, and expensive hotels. The secret is that in the train station you can get a twelve hour room with only three other strangers for about $6. I decided to take that challenge and ended up meeting Zhanbek (literally; Soul). We spoke in Kazakh and ended up having a spiritual conversation about life, Islam, and Christianity. Zhanbek, like many other young Kazakhs, is a cultural Muslim, which means that the extent of his religious behavior is saying, ”I’m Muslim.” I can’t get too complex with my language yet but I simply shared the basics of my faith and encouraged him to seek the Truth.
The train left the next morning. I had a Koopay ticket which put me in a small room with three other people as opposed to a full train car divided into open sections of six beds a piece and an overflow of ticketless passengers who secure a standing room only position by tossing a bribe to the stewards. I was with three youngish people. One guy brought a giant hunk of horsemeat that he generously offered, from which I would’ve eaten more than my portion had I not withstood the gluttony rising up within me. Soon after we started moving the vendors began to trickle through. People, mostly older ladies, will get on at different stops with bags of products, toss a bribe to the stewards, and lurch through the narrow aisles of the wagons peddling their wares. Water, sunflower seeds, socks, smoked fish, dombiras (two stringed guitar like instruments), booze, and many more non exotic delights. The two fellows in my Koopay each bought themselves a beer. Not twenty minutes later our door suddenly opened and a pair of policemen found what they wanted; some dude with a beer. Turns out its illegal to drink in a Koopay. The fine is about $10 and is questionable whether it ever goes to anything else than the receptive officer’s disposable income. So what about the ladies with bags full of beer? Well, they’re not drinking, they’re selling, and there’s nothing wrong with trying to make a buck.
In Kazakhstan, if you’re hot and sweaty from the summer time heat waves, there’s only one necessary common sense remedy; piping hot tea. Cold water, they say, will never quench the thirst and will cause you to continue to sweat. With hot tea, you cool down and stop sweating. At first I was about to laugh in some faces. Now, after trying it, I can honestly say I do not understand why people believe this lie. Maybe it just doesn’t work for me. I’m the type of guy where hot tea makes me hot. Which is why I drank ice cold water on the way to Almaty..about 7 Liters of it.
posted by PeaceCore at 11:46 AM
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