Free Stanning

Parts 1 to 3

As sad as it was, the time had finally come for me to leave China. Despite cycling over 2500km, and visiting scores and scores of places over a period of two months, I feel like I've just scratched the surface of the Middle Kingdom.

China's amazing. There's still a million places I'd like to visit in the country, and a billion people I'd really like to meet.

But it's also complex, and sometimes it's difficult to understand exactly what's going on beneath the surface, particularly in anything involving politics or the government, especially on a local level.

As my visa had expired, and as cycling west from Ürümqi as a foreigner is problematic or even impossible due to constant police checks and roadblocks, Black Bewdy and I jumped on an overnight bus, which was heading all the way over to the Kazakhstani city of Almaty.

Well, I jumped, and Bewdy had to lie down and be carried.

I could theoretically have taken the bus to the Kazakh border, and then ridden on to Almaty from there, but my plan was to return east from Almaty anyway, and there seemed little point in riding the same road twice, especially considering Bewdy was in need of some tlc from a caring bike mechanic, as I'm too blocked up to be expressive and affectionate to her in that way. And Almaty's definitely the best place to get that done in this region.

The bus ride took us 24 hours, and most of the scenery was magnificent, especially just before sunrise, when we drove along Sayram Lake, and crossed the mountain passes of the Ertai area, very close to the border. I'd love to come back to western Xinjiang one day, and explore the country around there, especially Kashgar.

I'll put that on the list.

This whole trip was supposed to shorten my list of places I want to visit, but it's actually just making it longer.

We arrived in the Chinese border town of Khorgas in time for an early Kazakh brekky, consisting of deep fried pastries and butter tea. It was tasty.

I had to ask. No it's not.

I skipped on the meat momos, or samsa as they're called here, a word and dish related to Indian samosas.

Waiting with this very deer family in the park.

Now here's some new tech for ya. A urinal which automatically analyses your piss.

I translated it, but it was all Dutch to me. If any medical people amongst you recognise any serious deficiencies in my peepee, peelease keep it to yourselves, wee can talk about it another time.

And so we finally reached the Chinese-Kazakh border, the crossing of which was one of the most excruciatingly slow and painful processes I've ever had the serious misfortune to endure.

On the Chinese side we had to disembark, unload all our own luggage, and stand forever in the hot sun in a slow moving queue, drag all our stuff through scanners and checks, and then along a 100m open courtyard to again queue at the passport control area.

That may seem like a First World problem to you (it actually is), but for me it was a major difficulty, as I had to carry a heavy steel-framed bike with a removed front wheel, the wheel itself, 4 panniers, a day bag, sleeping mat, and my guitar, whilst slowly moving in a queue, and without a luggage trolley. It was seriously exhausting, and no one seemed to want to help me, I guess because it's a border crossing, and security is over the top, and everyone seems to be paranoid about it all.

Better not associate themselves with this unknown foreigner right at this crucial moment.

Then, after we'd all been through that rigmarole, our bus was chosen as the lucky one to be taken away and checked with a fine-toothed comb, to make sure no head lice were trying to escape China without their correct paperwork.

There were no seats in our outside waiting area, so we all stood around until our bus finally returned, one whole hour later.

I joked to a fellow passenger that it appeared harder to leave China than to enter it.

Finally, our bus returned, we had to re-load it all ourselves, and then head over to the Kazakh side to repeat exactly the same procedure. Aaaargh!

The whole process took us over two and a half hours.

But we finally did it, we all got back on the bus, and no one got arrested, or shot in the back by machine-gun wielding guards whilst trying to scale the barbed wire fence screaming the name of their lifelong love who was waiting on the other side.

Gorgeous and extremely varied scenery on the Kazakh side.

The steppe

This must be the dead centre of the region

Yurts, a traditional structure used in this part of the world, particularly as housing, but also for many other purposes.

Almaty burbs

The city is flanked by beautiful mountains

Back in amongst it.

Almaty

Ah, silly me.

I'd forgotten to download a route to my hostel from the bus station while I still had internet access, I had no SIM card now, no local currency, and arrived with no idea whatsoever of how to get anywhere.

Bloody typical.

Luckily a broken-English-speaking local guy helped me find my hostel on his phone (it took ages), but while we were fuffing about searching for it the bus drove off with my guitar inside didn't it.

I immediately just left my bike and all my worldly possessions with this complete stranger and sprinted off to try and catch the bus, which I luckily did after about 500m, because of my super fast ultra fit bionic legs and superhero grit and determination.

Or it may have been that the bus got stuck in traffic.

Phew! That would've been a sad loss.

When I returned to my bike and gear, I discovered that my front tube had been damaged en route, and I had to replace it right there, in the bus station car park. Annoying!

But eventually I loaded up and got on the road, as it began to get dark.

Wow! A new city, a new country! I've never been to Central Asia before and, in fact, this is the first time on this whole cycling trip that I'm entering a country I've never ever visited before.

As I rode off I was completely flabbergasted by the place, which is saying something, given my otherworldly skinniness. The city just felt so radically different from where I'd just come.

Believe it or not, but my first impression was that I'd just arrived in some cultured capital in Eastern Europe, or even, shock horror, in some random unknown city in Western Europe.

It's a vibe thing.

Big trees shaded the wide roads, which were flanked by wide and neat cycle and pedestrian paths. Young people, many of them with Caucasian faces, zipped around on e-scooters and bicycles. From first impressions they appeared completely open and free here, relating in a way totally different to young people in western China. They're loud, they joke around constantly, laugh and play around a lot, and dress in completely unique ways, not seeming to give a rat's arse about what other people think.

It's hard to describe, but I felt like the world had suddenly opened up. People here are so expressive, particularly young people, and they really don't care who's looking.

And, very importantly, I've suddenly gone from being a celebrity A-lister for such a long period of time, to a complete no-lister. Yay! I'm listless and happy at the same time! I'm sort of anonymous now. No more centre-of-attention responsibilities.

And sometimes you don't really feel those responsibilities until they're lifted.

As I rode around I admired the parks and gardens everywhere, the cafes and restaurants that lined some city streets, and all of the local interesting shops and bakeries and other businesses with their Kazakh and Russian signs everywhere.

Almaty has a spaciousness about it, it feels cruisey, despite its population of nearly 2 million, and the fact that it's the biggest city in the country, as well as its financial, business and cultural capital. The political capital is Astana, way up in the cold north of the country, and locals tell me the vibe there is completely different.

I asked some random students where I could find a bankomat (ATM), I got hold of some cold hard tenge, the Kazakh currency, and headed off to find my hostel.

Traditional musos on the way.

By chilled cycle paths

Berry berry amazing produce across the street from my hostel.

I found a restaurant with one veg option, which was delicious (and expensive) beetroot salad.

And sweets of course. Bakeries everywhere! Even on my little street! With real cakes with real cream and real cheese and real bread and real cheap!

I've arrived in heaven.

Orthodoxic

To my usual good fortune, I met the sweetest Kazakhi guy on the bus from Ürümqi. Bolsyn is a uni student who lives in Astana, he has a huge knowledge of Kazakh culture and history, and he asked me if I would like him to show me around the city of Almaty, which he knows really well. What a guy.

I took the metro into town the next morning, as my hostel was over 10 clicks away from the centre, and I was late. My tardiness proved to be quite fortunate though, because while Bolsyn was waiting for me in the park by the Ascension Cathedral, he met Rohan, a wonderful young guy from Bangalore, who is here on vacation. Rohan and I ended up spending a few beautiful days together in and around Almaty.

I'm not in Russia, but the metro sorta feels like it.

Bolsyn and Rohan buddying up

The Ascension Cathedral is one of the few buildings which survived the devastating earthquake of 1911, which totally flattened most of this city. It's a magnificent Russian Orthodox masterpiece, built in 1907.

Tsarist Russia had taken control of most of Kazakhstan by the 1840s, and it automatically became part of the Soviet Union when that was created in 1922. Russian culture, language and religion has been an important part of Central Asian life ever since, particularly in Kazakhstan, which shares a land border with Russia that spans over 7,800km, which is the second longest land border in the world, after the Canada/US border, which is about a thousand clicks longer.

In fact, Russians currently make up a whopping 18% of the Kazakh population, by far the biggest proportion of any country in Central Asia. In Kyrgyzstan it's about 5%, Uzbekistan around 3.5%, and about 2% in Tajikistan and Turkmenistan.

You probably don't under-stan where all those places are yet, but, if you keep following my vagabonding, you might one day. Look at all this education I'm delivering! I should start charging.

But I am gonna test you.

You have to learn how to spell Kyrgyzstan before the next blog.

Anyway, we were talking religion. The Russian Othodox Church, also called the Eastern Orthodox Church of Russia, was established way back in 988, when Prince Vladimir of Kiev embraced Byzantine Othodoxy and forced his people to get baptised so that they'd all go to heaven, and he could get more money out of them before they headed up.

The Roman Empire had already moved its capital from Rome to Constantinople (Istanbul) in 330, and had separated itself into Eastern and Western Empires, and when the Western Roman Empire fell in the late 5th Century, Constantinople remained the head of what was known as the Eastern Roman Empire, or the Byzantine Empire, until it fell to the Ottomans in 1453.

The Eastern Orthodox Church, also known as the Orthodox Catholic Church, remains one of the three main branches of Christianity, the other two being Catholics and Protestants.

The Russians did their own thing though, and in the 15th Century they broke away from union with the western church, and Moscow began to regard  itself as the "third Rome," and the last bulwark of true orthodoxy. These days the titular head of the Orthodox Church remains in Instanbul, but the Russian and Greek Orthodox Churches operate with their own patriarchs, and a high degree of autonomy.

And the Ascension Cathedral itself?

Well, it's a true masterpiece.

More gold than the Kalgoorlie Super Pit.

Being all Orthodox

Go the mullet skirts

The Culture Club

On my suggestion, Bolsyn, Rohan and I wandered off to the nearby Museum of Traditional Music, which I'd heard has an incredible collection of Kazakh instruments.

We passed a war memorial on the way, dedicated to Kazakhs who fought in the Great Patriotic War, which is what Russians call the battle against Nazi Germany in Workd War II. The park is dedicated to a bunch of Kazakh soldiers who died whilst valiantly defending Moscow.

More than a million Kazakhs fought for the Russians during the war, and half of them were killed.

The Eternal Flame. Bolsyn joked that Kazakhstan's huge oil reserves will probably keep it burning forever.

The museum. Another earthquake survivor.

Bolsyn has an impressive knowledge of Kazakh musical instruments and famous musicians, I was super impressed. They played loads of traditional music as we wandered around the museum, and he often named the instruments and the musicians.

The three-stringed dombra, the most famous traditional Kazakh instrument, which has nylon strings and sounds quite like an oud. The Russian balalaika developed from this instrument.

Other traditional or unique instruments

Then Bolsyn took us over to what's known as the Green Bazaar, an amazing and huge market selling all sorts of fresh delicacies.

This is kurt or qurt, a very popular dried cheese made from fermented mare's milk or sheep's milk. You can get it everywhere. It's salty and delicious, and tastes a little like a really strong dried feta. I've been living on this stuff, putting it on breads and meals as the perfect flavoursome additive.

Horse meat stalls. Very popular here.

The meat quality at the markets was outstanding. Even as a vegetarian I couldn't help butnotice.

Having some kymys, fermented mare's milk. It's nice, a little sour. I've had it a few times since. We also tried shybat, camel milk, which also tasted pretty good, with its own distinctive sort of smoky flavour, even though it's not smoked.

Traditional sweets, including chak-chak, a favourite here, made of deep fried small pieces of dough mixed with honey.

Korean kimchi stall, which, in case you don't know, is basically spicy fermented, salted or pickled vegetables. If you're wondering what on earth kimchi is doing in Almaty, it's because there's an estimated 100,000 Koreans living in Kazakhstan, they're called Koryo-saram, and are ethnic Koreans from the former Soviet Union, descendants of Koreans who originally lived in the Russian Far East.

In the early 19th Century life was super tough for peasants in Korea, and many were forced to leave. Because the Qing dynasty in China had closed its borders, the peasants were forced to relocate to the Russian Far East, where they eventually became Russified, and even developed their own language, a mix of Korean and Russian. Before the Trans-Siberian railway was built in 1904, Koreans actually outnumbered Russians in the Russian Far East.

However, when Japan invaded Manchuria (northeastern China) in 1937, right on the Russian border, Stalin (wrongly) suspected ethnic Koreans in the Far East of working as spies for the Japanese, and brutally deported nearly 200,000 of them to Central Asia.

Many of them died en route, or starved to death when they arrived, because they had no knowledge of how to cultivate their new, arid, Central Asian lands. But they eventually learnt to irrigate, and soon regained their standards of living. Since Kazakhstan became independent in 1991 many Koryo-saram have done quite well economically, as they have well seasoned trading abilities, and many have extensive business contacts with investors and markets in South Korea.

Dried fruit and nut sweets and toffees

One of the many mosques in the city.

Bolsyn took us to a popular Kazakh eating place, but there wasn't much on the veg menu (almost nothing). I had a salad. Great atmosphere though.

Traditional Kazakh wedding attire

Bolsyn tucking in to the butter. Butter!

Hanging with one of the great Kazakh poets, composers and theologian philosophers, Abai Qunanbaiūly. He's well known around here, probably their greatest folk hero. One of the main drags in the city is named after him, as is a university, and even a metro station.

Abai was the first guy to really etch his way into the national consciousness, and his words were the inspiration for a number of political movements. He's actually celebrated all over Central Asia and Turkey, and even in Russia, and there's statues of him all over the whole region.

Abai's main work was called the Book of Words, where he encourages his fellow Kazakhs to embrace education, literacy and good moral character, in order to escape poverty, enslavement and corruption. He also fully embraces Russian culture, and encourages his fellow Kazakhs to do the same, so that they can start to realise the importance of cultural treasures in general, both from the wider world, and from their very own country.

Abai station is so so deep. Must be a testament to his writings. Either that, or it's on a hill. This is only one of the three escalators going down.

Bolsyn's friends Mahmet and Dimash met us at the base of Kok Tobe, a famous hill close to the city, and they were all very keen to do the cable car thing. Bloody tourists, I mean, locals, I mean people.

I really connected with Dimash, the guy at the front. He's a fourth year film student, and is making super interesting docos about local issues.

It was selfie city today

Helping out the Fab Four

There were some interesting birds and animals up there, including an emu, and this peacock with vitiligo. I know how he feels.

A mural of the originally-Ukrainian writer Nikolai Gogol, by the talented  Almaty street artist Dima. Gogol was a very famous novelist and short story writer in Russia, and was considered the founder of realism in Russian literature in the 19th century. Household names such as Tolstoy, Chekhov and Dustyesky soon followed in his footprints.

We watched this amazing Michael Jackson impersonator for ages. He really was the King of Pop with an accent.

My buddies persuaded me to sing on the street, once another busker had finished, and kindly lent me his guitar. She looks pretty bored to me.

More Indian hangers-on. They were such lovely guys. A lot of Indians come to Central Asia to holiday, or to go to uni, and there's regular direct flights to Almaty and Bishkek from Delhi and Mumbai. I've met quite a few of them since I've been here.

Dangerous birthday cake

Settling In

I spent a few days and nights in Almaty, truncated by an overnight hiking trip into the hills, and a separate day tour with Rohan.

My hostel was a super clean and pretty quiet Kazakh/Russian place, and the only other foreigners there besides me were a couple of Indians, one of whom was Manisha, a super nice woman from Andra Pradesh, who's really on my wavelength politically and intellectually. We went out for a meal one night, and chatted quite a lot in the hostel.

She's a really interesting digital nomad who's been travelling for seven years, but will probably return to India in a few months, as her work contract is expiring. She really doesn't want to live in India anymore, she's totally over the way women are treated there, but might have to stay there for a year or so to get her foot in the door for a post somewhere else.

I love the city of Almaty. It's definitely a place I could stay for awhile. I explored it  loads on my bike, and always got home well after dark.

As usual I took loads of random snaps.

Typical wide cycling path and gardens

Fountain in Plaza Republika

Akimat, the main government building in the city.

Kitsch French restaurant

There's all sorts of delicious creamy sweets here. At first I thought they were just yoghurts. But once I realised they were flavoured creamy mousses, I had to have even more of them. You appreciate things so much more when you haven't had them for ages.

Note the real rye bread too. This is bakery and dairy heaven.

Coke billboard ad. Rather fitting for the Kazakh diet. Meat, meat and meat.

Rohan counting my pennies before I tuck into a pistachio pastry.

And a coffee.

Alcoholism is a problem here. Not surprising, given the economic and social problems for some people here, and the fact that you can buy a bottle of locally made vodka for only $2.50 Oz.

Cool street sculpture

There's that man again, АБАЙ, or Abai.

I'm slowly getting my head around the Kazakh Cyrillic script here. Most members of the former Soviet Union use Russian Cyrillic script as the basis for their own written languages, but they all have their own variations, which makes it confusing sometimes.

I've been learning a few Kazakh words, but also some Russian, because I can use that everywhere in Central Asia, and most people understand it. They all prefer their own native languages though, and will sometimes translate my feeble Russian into their own language, to teach me.

The mountains are really close to town

A series of murals depicting traditional Kazakh life and dress. These give you a good handle on some of the important parts of traditional Kazakh culture.

Brekky at the local bakery

Sometimes locals will come and chat with me here, in Kazakh or Russian, using Google Translate. I've met some super friendly people here, such as Evgeniya and Maret.

Sad but true

I sat next to this guy, and got lots of friendly smiles from people walking past. This is a statue of Yuri Gagarin, the first human to travel to outer space. He rocketed into the cosmos from the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan in April 1961.

This was a super good bakery cafe.

With treats like these.

Someone named this cafe after my daughter.

The Kazakh national television broadcaster

Random street art

Old government house. Almaty used to be the capital of Kazakhstan, but the capital was moved to Astana after independence, to keep those territorially expansive Russians at bay.

This was a Godsend for me, and I played it often. It wasn't the best piano in the universe, but it was a piano, and it was on the street.

Fiery city sky

These guys made the best mushroom shawarma

Sayabag Park, dedicated to that old peacenik Mahatma Gandhi

Apricot flavoured runny yoghurt. The bomb on my brekky.

Late one night at a doner place I met a super interesting Chinese guy who'd just arrived from Harbin, in the northeast of China, and had transported his electric car here by train. His plan is to drive to Paris in it, with a friend.

He was very keen to give me some water from his home town, a number of cartons of which he was carrying in the boot of his flash new car. It tasted incredibly like water, no more, no less. He was also very keen to post this pic of me accepting it on his Instagram account.

Life completely puzzles me sometimes.

To The Snowy Mountains

Rohan and I have a plan. We're gonna go hiking and camping in the mountains.

He told me it's really beautiful up there, and I believe him, considering that he seems to know everything about this whole place, and also considering what the mountains actually look like from down here.

He's also convinced me to go to some very spectacular-looking places on a day tour. I'm not into day tours, but I really like Rohan, and I want to keep him company. And some of the places aren't on my intended route out of here, so it may be the only chance I get to see them.

I'm so looking forward to getting out into the real bush again.

I'm in Central Asia now.

It's time to get my tent out and sleep on all that green grass❤️

http://buymeacoffee.com/krolesh9