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August 15th, 2024

15/8/2024

Kazakhstan

As I was riding on the vast plain across Altyn-Emel National Park I was wondering how I could keep the word “generosity” out of the next blog. I rode into the small not-so-well-known village of Altynemel and spotted a store. Not the usual village rough building, but a well laid out well stocked store. Run by a big Russian Kazakh, he was listening to the explanation of my ride to a group of boys, keen to practice their English. I meanwhile was filling my basket for a full five day restock. I got to the counter offering a fistful of Kazakh tenge notes. He waved his arm, “a gift”. Two hundred metres down the street I heard the “ting” on my phone of an infrequent 4G connection. I grabbed the opportunity to message my daughter Julie. Meanwhile across the road unnoticed a young boy was called by his mother. He arrived at my bike with a bag of freshly baked bread and filled croissants. They were a welcome supplement to the nightly pasta and tinned fish.

So no, the word generosity continues. It is a tribute right down the country to the people who just give to strangers. There were other highlights such as being offered the run of the local government office to “camp” for the night. Real fun interaction over the “tea” that magically appeared.

After so much vast open space it was a welcome change to experience the larger city of Taldykoran for a day. A well laid out city with a beautiful central square. I rode in tired and hot with a list of city type catch ups to do. As I stopped, looking for a bike shop a young Russian electrician rode up on his bike. He lead me around the city to the bike shop, then to a bank, finally to a cafe where I was able to shout him lunch (despite his protests). Despite his good intentions I was glad to break away for other necessary basics like washing 6 days dust off.

The hotel also gave a opportunity to talk to two guys from the Kazakh Central Bank. They were returning from a trip to China looking at ways of addressing the imbalance of trade value between the two countries. The bottom line was the raw goods (esp coal and agricultural products) were being sold too cheaply. They also talked about the difficulties the Ukraine war was putting on the relationship with their other major trading partner, Russia. Just another unique opportunity to hear the real big issues of the country.

The north of Kazakhstan had a flood of families heading to their favourite lakes, especially Lake Alakol. But for me it was watermelon time. The family road trips inevitably required a couple of the huge watermelon from the countless roadside stalls. Breakfast time, around nine am, required a family picnic by the roadside. By that stage I had been on the road for a couple of hours and the heat was reaching peak 39 degrees. I knew if I rode slowly enough past the picnic the watermelon would appear. 39 degree heat and big juicy slices of water melon are a perfect combination. I now feature in a couple of hundred family holiday selfie shots, beard dripping with watermelon.

South of Kazakhstan, I noticed a shift in language, from pure Kazakh to a larger mix of Russian and Kazakh. I adjusted my greeting to try and cover both, badly, so the usual response was “hello”. The only link to the south was the main Highway so it was a relief to head out of Taldykoran on a more minor road into Altyn-Emel National Park, with hard riding rewarded with spectacular scenery.

The south also offered an opportunity to experience Urghur hospitality with in-laws of a friend from my Africa ride. When we compared pension payments (USD 340 per month), Mukhitdin ruefully noted that Kazakhstan was a rich country with poor people. The couple were both teachers at the local school, and I was lucky enough to have the English teacher, Mukhitdin’s brother, to translate. An evening walk also took us past a local wedding celebration, with music generated from 5 huge (2.5 metre) trumpets and drums.

The final gift from Kazakhstan was the simple and friendly border crossing. The bags stayed on the bike for the first time and I was welcomed into Kyrgyzstan with a glance at my passport and the thump of a stamp.