Arriving in One Piece... Not As Easy As It Sounds

Getting to Kyrgyzstan 

If you look at a map of Central Asia, Almaty and Bishkek are very close. In fact, if you decide to fly, the flight is only 40 minutes (but they do give you a meal). Instead of flying, I decided to take a shared taxis from Almaty to the border, three hours, and then a mashrutka (mini-bus) from the Kyrgyz side of the border to central Bishkek, forty minutes.

The private taxis to Bishkek congregate outside the Sayran bus station. It's a little out of the way, so, I hailed a taxi to get me and my suitcase there. As I stepped out, my driver announced to the Bishkek taxis drivers, "you have a passenger, she's English but she speaks Russian." The taxis drivers came over to ascertain whether this was true. One told me that he had never heard an English speaker speak Russian and thanked me for it. The system for hiring a taxi to Bishkek is that you can either buy the whole cab for yourself and leave right away, the price tag is 10,000 KZT, or you can pay 2,500 KZT and wait for the cab to fill up with other passengers, which is what I did. Thankfully, it only took about twenty minutes to fill up and we were on our way. 

As we left Almaty, it was quite obvious we were leaving a metropolitan city. For the first fifteen or twenty minutes, we traveled through the industrial part of town. it was dirty and grimy and the picture of a soviet-era industrial city. Once we cleared that, we passed through small towns and auls. Most of the little auls had small mosques at the center and little cemeteries with graves that looked like miniature houses and usually a small mosque with its crescent moon facing Mecca. As we drove further in to the steppe even the little auls became scarce. Occasionally, we would pass a herder on his horse tending his sheep or cows, but other than that, the foothills were still.

The ride itself was interesting. My driver was nice and I sat up front, a place I had chosen strategically to combat my motion sickness. However, the ride was punctuated by rapid deceleration and the driver frantically grabbing his seat belt to make it look like he was wearing it when ever we approached somewhere that was a likely or verified speed trap. At one point, the other woman passenger, in frustration, muttered, "they [the police] hide like cockroaches." 

Then there was the time when the driver decided to drive on the wrong side of the road. I don't just mean that he was driving in the middle of the road because the white lines are just for decoration, which is normal. This time, he pulled into the opening between the two sets of lanes and began driving into incoming traffic. This caused quite a reaction from the other three passengers in the back who started yelling at him and asking him why he was doing such a thing. He replied that there was a sign that said the road travelling in our direction was closed and that yesterday every car was on this side of the road. The other passengers kept yelling at him that it was an old sign and the other drivers travelling in our direction were driving down the correct side of the road. Eventually, he turned around, returned to the opening and returned back to the correct side of the road.

There was no more against traffic driving for the rest of the trip. We stopped once for a rest stop and I had to go buy some candy because the bathroom attendant could not break a 500 KZT for a 30 KZT bathroom fee. We kept driving through the hills when the driver pointed out the carcasses of three dead cows on the side of the road, he said that there had been an accident with them and that cows on the road were the most dangerous obstacle on this route. 

Even though the taxis say that they go to Bishkek, in truth they only go to the border, its another 20 km to Bishkek. We got out, collected our items and proceeded through the gates. We were ushered in to the migration office, which had ten or twelve windows. I thankfully got into a line that moved fairly quickly, unlike the line next to me. The cause for this discrepancy became apparent when I reached the window, the woman manning the other window was texting on her phone, even with a patron in front of her. During my five minutes at the window, the officer in front of me was carefully looking through my documents, she didn't help one person from her line. When my passport was safely returned to me, I left the Kazakh border, crossed a bridge over a river and entered into Kyrgyzstan. Their migration office was quiet. The officer waiting looked at my passport and pointed me to a separate room because I am foreign. In the room, an officer took my passport, scanned it, stamped it and returned it to me. I inquired about an immigration card, which I have had to fill out for every other country I've entered, but he said I didn't need it and I was done. So, I left. Outside the official control area, I was bombarded by taxis drivers but Aisulu gave me the number of a mashrutka that goes directly to the cross streets of her apartment, where I am staying. I boarded the mashrutka and bantered with the driver, he wanted me to take him home to the U.S. I said I didn't think he would fit in my case. In any case, he did make sure to let me know when I arrived at the bus stop. 

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A Walk Around Bishkek

I rested for an hour and chatted with Aisulu's friend Asel, who was at the apartment with the keys, before heading out to explore the city. Bishkek is sweltering, its forecasted to reach 100 on Sunday.  I spent about three hours walking around the city, it took me a good hour to get my bearings. I finally ended up walking down one of the main streets, Chuy street, passed a statue honoring those who died in the revolution, the State History Museum and the giant flagpole and flag and finally the White House. After that, I stopped for dinner and then heading back to the apartment. I think that I will stay in to tonight, I'm tired from the driving and the heat. I get an early start tomorrow, when it is still cool.

Statue to the Martyrs of the Revolution

Posters bearing the name, picture and description of a Kyrgyz hero from World War II

Cooling off in the fountains outside the State History Museum. Can't say I blame them, even I was tempted.

A friendly game of chess in the shade.

Beating the heat.

Sorry about the odd angle, I wanted to show the two guards standing watch over the flag.
I hope, for their sake, that those posts are air conditioned. 

The White House.

The view from the apartment.

Update: Kyrgyz Visa

Kyrgyz Tourist Visa. I leave Friday by Taxi and return Tuesday by Plane.

How to get a Kyrgyz Visa and Other Adventures

How to get a Kyrgyz visa:

Actually, getting a Kyrgyz visa is not that difficult. If you are flying into an international airport, you can get one when you land. However, I plan to travel into Kyrgyzstan by car, which should only take about four hours, which means I have to get my visa in Kazakhstan. The Kyrgyz consulate in located in a two-story house one block south east of Abai and Dostyk/Lenin (the intersection where KIMEP is located). I left work an hour early and took the bus down to the end of Abai. I would have overlooked the consulate had Jessica not told me that it was in a house. I approached the metal gates and read the schedule, "documents can be brought between 9 a.m. and 12 p.m." Just as I was about to leave, the guard opened the gate and asked me why I was there. When I told him, he ushered me inside and pointed me towards the entrance to the basement. My nicely printed out visa application was useless, as they made me fill out another one and then sent me off running to the bank. In Kazakhstan, when you have to pay a fee or tuition, you pay it at a separate bank and return with the receipt. So, off I rushed as it began to pour with rain. The BTA bank, one long block away from the consulate, happens to be right next to the U.S. consulate. And just to give you a nice comparison, the U.S. consulate is a modern high-rise building. Having paid, I rushed back to the consulate and gave them my passport, my receipt and a picture. I am now passport-less until Wednesday, something that makes me very nervous. However, I could not justify the $105 price tag on the overnight visa, instead I paid $55 to get it in a week. Keeping my fingers crossed. 

Kok Tobe:

Saturday, I met up with Jessica and Antoine to go see Brave, only to find out that it was no longer playing and we were too late to catch any of the other movies and get Antoine back to the dorm by the dorm's curfew. Instead, we went up to Kok Tobe, which Antoine had not seen. The lines for the gondolas were long and populated by screaming children. It didn't help that once we were in the gondola, the change in altitude made ears pop, causing a new round of screaming. Once we were out of the gondola, we spent about an hour walking around the park and had a wonderful view of the sunset over Almaty.

Abai Theater

Abai, the famous Kazakh writer and poet.

Hotel Kazakhstan

Medeu

This week, I decided that I wanted to return to Medeu and climb the stairs up to the top the berm that was built to protect the Medeu sports complex from avalanches and other such disasters. The berm in plateaued, with a series of steps and then observations points or roads. I stopped at most of them and rested, or just walked around on level group, before continuing up the stairs. Several times, I thought I was near the top, only to realize it was just another plateau and I had a long way to go. I finally did make it to the top and had a wonderful view of Medeu and the valley on the other side of the berm. I wandered for a bit, before returning down to the bottom. As I was waiting for the bus, the taxi drivers converged, trying to convince me that I should take a taxi back to the city rather than a bus. I think that they might have had a competition going to see who could convince me to take a taxis back, one guy would leave and rejoin his fellow taxis drivers and another from the group would converge. However, the choice was easy, 500 KZT for a taxis or 70 KZT for a bus. Seeing as I am on a very tight budget, bus it was. I am now back in my little kitchen and I don't feel guilty at all indulging in an ice cream and some Kazakh chocolate. If all goes well, knock on wood, I will be in Kyrgyzstan next weekend for a three or four days.

The berm and the stairs (center)

The beginning of the stairs.

The horse, hobbled, grazing on the berm.

From the top.

I climbed from the far end of the rink, to the top of the berm.

The refurbished rink and with the abandoned and decaying building next to it.

Last Sunday, I took Antoine to the Green Bazaar (he couldn't leave Almaty without seeing the bazaar).
I bought this Aport Apple, as you can tell it is quite large.
Unfortunately, it was either imported or has been stored for some time, because it was not very good.
The season for these apples, which Almaty is famous for, is in late August or September.

Astana Day!!!! Oh, Wait, I'm in Almaty

 It's the Astana Day, the day that celebrates the founding of the capital city of Astana, in Northern Kazakhstan. It also happens to be President Nazarbayev's Birthday. Even though I am living in the city that Astana supplanted when it became the capital, it is an official holiday, meaning that I had the day off work today. To celebrate, Antoine and I went to the Central Museum of Kazakhstan.The museum, which is the one I was trying to find last weekend, is located near Republic Square and the Presidential palace. Unfortunately, photographs of the exhibits were forbidden.

The Museum had four main rooms, which included a room dedicated to archaeology and the prehistoric people that inhabited the territory of Kazakhstan. On the landing between the first and second floors were replicas of period costumes, including a replica of the Golden Man, whose burial place was unearthed not far from Almaty in 1969. If you look at the top of the spire in Republic Square, it is his likeness that is riding the white leopard. 
The second room was dedicated to the Kazakh people, their clothing, their culture, their crafts and their weaponry.  The third room was dedicated to the different diasporas that live in Kazakhstan and to the Second World War. As I was reading out the names of the nationalities to Antoine, I couldn't help recall my Central Asian history lessons. Many of the Russians, Belorussians and Ukrainians relocated to Kazakhstan under Khrushchev to till the Virgin Lands. But, the Germans and the Koreans were forcible relocated to the region on the orders of Stalin. The Chechens, the Ingush and the Greeks, who were also special settlers of Kazakhstan under Stalin and into Khrushchev's tenure, were noticeably absent from the displays of clothing and memorabilia.
The fourth room, the one that I really wanted to photograph, was dedicated to Nazarbayev. Perhaps, I'm not being fair, the room was officially dedicated to "The Independent Kazakhstan," but pictures of the president were prominent in the majority of the displays, including a red and white carpet commemorating a meeting of the Central Asian leaders in 1995.
The museum also houses collection of gold, but it was 1300 Tenge to go behind the vault like door and I am a poor graduate student, so I passed.
Overall, I was most surprised by how few people were at the museum. In many of the rooms, the only people, besides Antoine and I, were the docents, who followed us around like hawks to make sure we didn't touch the replicas that weren't behind glass.

"Astana- The Symbol of the New Kazakhstan"

Republic Square,
one of the domes belonging to the underground mall
and the Golden Man riding his white leopard

The Central Museum of Kazakhstan

Can't forget the other important holiday this week. It was the Fourth of July on Wednesday. I received a greeting from my roommate, who is still in Kyrgyzstan, wishing my American half "Happy Independence Day." There were no Scottish restaurants or ballets this time round (to clarify, read the last two years of my blog). Instead we, the three Americans at the Eurasia Foundation, treated our colleagues to small party. Jessica, Mariana and I, bought Red, White and Blue fruit and attempted to make an American flag. Mariana joked that it turned out to look more like a Puerto Rican Flag. I guess its fair, Mariana is Puerto Rican. 

The mini-party was a welcome break from work and everyone seemed to enjoy it. It was also healthier than most of our parties.

After work, we, including Antoine, went and had Shashlik at our little hole-in-the-wall Shashlik restaurant. It wasn't barbecue, but it worked just as well. Then it was back home and to sleep. 

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday!

Here are some photos from walking around town last weekend, I was trying to find the museum. To be fair, the map has the museum located near Panfilov Park.

I would like to dedicate this post to Henry, a dear friend and neighbor, who passed away yesterday. I will miss him greatly.