Kyrgyzstan! The country on top of everything.

Hello! This is a long one, so beware!! :) Last time I left you in a hurry when I had just arrived in Astana, well over two week ago now. I apologize for not updating for so long. A lot (really!) has happened since then, and right now I’m in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, staying with family of a friend from university. It’s a good place to evaluate my options for the last part of my trip, as I have a mere two weeks to go until I have to start my studies at Xiamen University. Two weeks in which I will somehow also have to cross 5000 more kilometers through China.

I’ll tell you all about how I plan to do that near the end of this update. First, I will try to paint you a picture of how my journey has progressed since I left Astana. Now, the fact that I was going to take the train and give up hitchhiking for the time being on my way to Almaty must have sounded slightly boring to some of you, and it probably would have been, had there actually been any tickets out for sale for the train I wanted to take that night. As it turned out, when I went to the station that afternoon to ask about the price for a ticket to Almaty, it was calmly pointed out to me by the lady at the desk that all tickets for the coming week or so were completely sold out. If I wished to make a reservation for next week, this was, of course, no problem.
Since I resorted to trains to gain some time, and not to lose it, this was obviously not an option. I had heard somewhere, however, that it would maybe be possible to simply go to the station when the train was there, and bribe one of the train conductors into giving you his bed in the train, or any beds for which the passengers had not turned up. Kazakhs reportedly do this on a regular basis. I decided I would have to try, as it seemed to be my only chance of taking the train that evening, and it sounded like a fun experience.
Full of courage I turned up at the station when the train was there, and I started at the first carriage, all the way at the front of the train, asking the conductor if I could buy a ticket from him. In advance, I had tried to imagine how he would react, as it was obviously not an official way of obtaining the ticket. The simple and decidedly spoken ‘No’ that I got was, however, not the most encouraging of replies. But it was only my first try, I thought, there were at least 10 other carriages, waiting for that one extra passenger to take – me. One by one, no by no, I moved down the train, until arriving at the very last carriage, my last hope. Alas, here too, conductors shaking their heads were not a good sign, pointing in the direction of the eventual failure of my mission. I decided I would simply wait there, as it would be at least 40 minutes before the train would leave, and maybe when the departure time would be nearing one of the conductors would see his chance fit to earn some extra money.
Sure enough, after 10 minutes of killing mosquitoes, a young train conductor took off his high hat – to make things a little more unofficial, surely – and approached me. “How much?” he asked, trying to find out how much I was willing to pay. I named a figure slightly higher than the official ticket price, upon which he laughed and walked away. Nonetheless, I stayed put, as I thought some extra money couldn’t be an undesirable thing for a young train conductor on a salary that would not be more than a couple of hundred dollars per month. I was convinced he would come back. As the minutes passed, however, he made no sign of doing so, and when the other conductors at the door of that last carriage also started shaking their heads at me and signing that I had better go away, that it wasn’t going to work, my self-confidence started going down, slipping further and further into the sub-zero ranges.
10 minutes before the train leaves: Victory!! The young conductor catches my attention as he points at a man in the carriage who is beckoning me to come closer. I follow him onto the train, and there the bargaining begins. He names a price roughly 3 times the original ticket price (about 40 euro’s) which I skillfully talk down to well under 30, making use of my natural puppy-eye look and sad story about a poor student trying to reach his faraway destination.
The price was set, and he told me to follow him into the carriage. It was as if I entered some kind of overcrowded hospital, daycare and family living room at the same time. People everywhere, over each other, left, right, on their beds, children running past even though I was blocking the way being enormous with my backpack and all. I squeezed my way past this poorly orchestrated double-bed symphony, but when we got to the end of the carriage, I started wondering where he was actually taking me. Then it dawned on me. I had seen an extra carriage outside, completely dark, closed, and with no conductors or people standing outside. And indeed, we came to the door of that extra ‘mysterious’ carriage.
The door was locked. He knocks. A small light is switched on in the carriage, and a woman opens the door. The light is only switched on in the little hallway in the beginning of the carriage, and is quickly switched off again after we enter. I follow him all the way to the back of the carriage. It’s quite dark but through the windows enough light from the moon is coming in (the last carriage was well away from the lights at the station’s platform). When he guides me into the last open compartment, that also comes to an end as he pulls down the blinds and tells me to hide all my luggage under the benches. Everything is done quickly, and any words said are whispered. Before he leaves, he tells me that if somebody comes he will warn me by knocking on the wall in the front of the carriage with his keys, and shows me the bathroom. Not so I can take a piss, but to show me where I have to go when somebody is coming. I gave him the money, and then he left.

There I was, quite overwhelmed, and not daring to breathe too loud in fear of being discovered in this dark place. I was obviously a stowaway. When I had slightly calmed down after a few minutes, I had some time to assess my situation, and I thought to myself: “Gerben, Gerben, Gerben… look at you! Here you are, somewhere in Central Asia, in a dark train compartment going for a 1000km, without a ticket, hoping not to be found by anyone. … Well done!!”
Not long after, just before the train left, two more people were being guided into the carriage by the same man. I couldn’t see them well in the dark, and I only saw silhouettes moving down the corridor. Also, the whole atmosphere of the situation had made me quite cautious of being seen by any other people, so I didn’t dare stick my head out too far. He led them into the open compartment next to me, so I could hear them, but not see them. After the man left again, it took me a few seconds before I could muster up the courage to go to them. I wanted to see who they were, and I was also very curious how much they had had to pay. It turned out to be a young couple, Kazakhs, and after my first puny attempts in Russian, I was very relieved when the guy replied in English. Apparently, he was working in Astana, but his parents lived in Almaty, and he had not been able to find a ticket either. When I asked him, he told me he had paid a price only a few euros lower than mine. That made me a bit more confident that I had managed to do quite well, for a first timer, and for a foreigner.
Then the train started moving, and we put together our food to share a delicious meal. The rest of the train ride was very comfortable, and even more so when we went to the dining compartment of the train to have a beer (the man that took us in, who was guarding the carriage, assured us it was ok). Not necessarily because of the beer, but because on the way to that carriage, we passed through all those incredibly full, lowest class carriages again, making me realize how incredibly quiet and comfortable our private, dark carriage was. Perfect for a good night’s sleep.
Arriving in Almaty the next day, we snuck out the carriage quickly without being seen. I was invited by the guy to join him to his house, where we had dinner. Before I had left Astana I had seen that there would be a gathering of couchsurfers that evening in Almaty, and he helped me find the place where it would be. Once there, it was not difficult to find a place to sleep for that night.

Having the most immediate problems taken care of, I was able to turn my attention to another, potentially much more expensive problem: my registration in Kazakhstan as a tourist. Kazakhstan requires you to register at the official migration office if you are in the country for longer than five days. Nowadays, for most European passport holders, this is done automatically upon entering the country, but the Dutch government apparently doesn’t give enough money to Kazakhstan for this to apply to me as well. I knew this, and therefore I had been to the official registration and migration office in Astana, still on time, as I was told that weekends do not count towards the five days. You can imagine that in this region, where bribes are a common means of speeding up bureaucratic processes, officials are not very helpful if you fail to show them some respect in the form of money. Thus, when I came to the counter to get my registration stamp, the most unfriendly lady you can imagine told me that I shouldn’t do it there, but at a travel agency (at least that’s what I understood). Where was such an agency? “I don’t know”. Would it cost money? “I don’t know.” And she resumed her telephone conversation, undoubtedly telling her friend about what she had bought on yesterday’s sale. When I called a travel agency right afterwards, they told me they had no idea what it was I needed, and I was left frustrated and without registration.
I had then decided to take care of it when I would arrive in Almaty. At the couchsurfing meeting, however, some people told me that when I was too late registering, I would have to pay a fine of approximately 100 dollars. This made me quite angry, as I had been there at the office on time, but the lady simply turned me away. In the end, however, there was nothing I could do about it, or so it seemed. Luckily, however, I was hosted that night by a Canadian who was teaching English at a local language school. He told me that when he and his brother had once been too late with their registration, the secretary at his school had had some contacts at the registration office that could take care of it for only 15 dollars. I was very relieved, but still a little spooked at the idea of sending my passport through such an obscure system. I did it, however, and after waiting a few extra days, I got back my passport with my registration all taken care of. When I later crossed the border into Kyrgyzstan there were no problems whatsoever, and I was quite happy I had been able to save 85 dollars that way.
Before going to Kyrgyzstan, however, I still had to spend a few days in Almaty, waiting for my passport. This was in itself not such a bad thing, as Almaty is a pleasant city, with many parks, and a stunning view of 4000 meter snowcapped mountains just outside the city. Every day of walking around without my passport, however, made me a welcome target for bribe –hungry police officers, who would no doubt want to shake down that filthy-rich backpacker coming their way. One evening, as I was walking to a new host’s place with my backpack and as such utterly recognizable as a tourist, I noticed them standing at the corner of the street: militia. It was already too late, however, as they had seen me too. I decided to continue walking, and sure enough, when I reached them they stopped me, asking for my documents. Now, my Russian is by no means perfect, but I can understand a few things. For the occasion, however, I thought it would be better if I did not speak or understand anything they were saying at all. Their questions as to where my passport was were answered in clear English, explaining that it was in the process of being registered right now, and that therefore I did not have it with me. They tried to tell me that this was not allowed, and that they would have to take me to the police office for further questioning. Luckily, they fell for my “I don’t understand what you’re saying”-act, but they were still persisting. That’s when two Russian Kazakhs came to my rescue. The local people are themselves quit fed up with these officers, as they try to get bribes from everyone, not just the tourists, and these two were quite fierce in their discussion with the militia. After quite some time of talking, during which I kept pretending not to understand anything, the two told me they could not help me, but that maybe if I paid the officer some money, it would be fine. I realized this would probably solve the matter, as a bribe was what they were out for in the first place. They had no more desire for long bureaucratic procedures than I did. I didn’t know how much I had to give him, but I didn’t think he would be giving me any change, so I decided to try for my only 10 euro bill, and luckily it turned out to be enough. I even got a salute by the officer, as I was allowed to continue my way. It was final then, I had bribed my first official on this trip!

The rest of the time progressed without any problems, actually having a lot of fun that weekend with the family I was staying with. After I got my passport back, I quickly made my way to Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, in a shared taxi which the family insisted on paying for.
I am now in Bishkek for about a week, staying with the mother of a friend (thanks Jibek!), as I needed some time to reorganize and plan the last two weeks of my trip, and also recover from an infection. On my second night here, I wasn’t feeling too well, and it wasn’t long before I could admire the now ex-contents of stomach, hanging my head over the toilet. I still have no idea what could have been the reason for the infection, as I did not drink or eat anything obscure or from a street vendor while I was here.

On a completely different note: have you ever wondered what it would be like to swim in a commercial swimming pool, complete with slides, hot water baths and the like, after it had closed down and everything would be dark, all by yourself? It’s like when you’re watching a movie where the protagonist is running around in an abandoned movie-set, with all the props standing there, unused, and everything quiet in a surrounding where you have been before, but expect the sound of laughing children and people splashing and playing in the water. It was awesome! How did I get there? Jibek’s mother, Gulia eje, had told me we would be going to a swimming pool that evening. My Russian still needs a lot of work, however, and I did not quite understand the context. As far as I understood, her friend would meet us, and we would be going to the swimming pool to go swimming together. As it turned out, we took a taxi to the swimming pool, and it was completely dark, where I had expected a building with at least some lights. A man approached us and told us the swimming pool was closed. Gulia eje was not impressed and we walked to the door, where we were met by her friend. As her friend opened the door with her key, I understood that her friend must actually own the swimming pool! Once inside, I was shown the changing rooms, and I quickly got ready to enter the pool, expecting Gulia eje to come in too after she had finished talking with her friend. After swimming for about 15 minutes, however, it slowly dawned upon me that she would not be coming, and that I in fact had the entire swimming pool to myself. Quite a surreal experience, I can tell you…

Apart from this, another quite improbable meeting was coming my way, with someone I actually knew from University College. I had received a message from Eelke Kraak, telling me that he was in the region, doing research for his master’s thesis at Oxford University, proposing we meet up for a drink. It’s been quite pleasant finally meeting a familiar face here, and sharing some of the experiences in this profoundly different region of the world. We will probably meet up again later today.

Now, as for my plans for the final two weeks of my trip: it will become very difficult to finish in Xiamen on time while having a fun time in the process, as it would involve me hurrying through all of China in trains, not being able to stop anywhere to take in some of the surroundings. Of course, when I planned this trip, I did not account for the extra time in Kazakhstan, and I also did not plan on getting ill. Now, as I move on to Kashgar, China, I will have less and less time to spare when I run into things like these. A day extra in one place suddenly becomes a problem when you know you have only so much time left to make it to the other side of China. To make sure that I can still enjoy these last two weeks, I’ve decided to fly from Kashgar to Xiamen. This will allow me to do things such as visit the Song Kol lake here in Kyrgyzstan, look at some of the Silk Road sights still dotted around the country, and make sure that I get across the border without any problems (crossing the border between Kyrgyzstan and China is an adventure in itself…)., while in the mean time not having to worry about arriving in Xiamen on time. Apparently, 10 weeks was not enough to make the entire journey, but I will at least have made it to China.

I have to go now, to enjoy the Kyrgyz mountains some more, and cross those last 500km until China. See you!