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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.