| i ve never seen Borat, i started to watch it but i dont find cringing funny, if i did i would wake up laughing every morning after a night of heavy drinking and outragous comments and behavour, but what i do know is he gave people an image of Kazakhstan and althouhg I havent seen that much of it yet the image he portrayed was of course totally wrong may be he was never here , maybe he just stuck a pin in a map. yet another boarder with a differnt world waiting the other side, the biggest change so far, in russia i blended in,.. well as much as i have ever blended in, i would be spoken to in russian handed leaflets in russian. i kind of looked like the majority , incedently when i was in cacasus mountains i leared that some dude in the 1700's went there and saw the strong mountain people and termed the phrase caucasian to discribe the white human, the ironey is ,in that area then are less white than the now common lable implies, aslo there iis a cocktail available called a caucasian which the rest of us call a white russian, see , its all making sence now eh? anyway russia may be al white but Kaz is better. took me 2 bloody hours to get out of the city of Astrachan, i had packed the bike with an audiance but i didnt mind, i was fresh clean and rested , except from the inivitable resless night before a boarder crossing, i know the women were checking me out as i pulled the straps tighter than i needed to.' ya want a show? i'll give ya a show', well its not ya average monday morning site i suppose, so. its not a big city just a complete lack of signposts and then whne you find one it takes you to a major junction which has no signs at all i look for the road most traveled but its not necessaly the one i want. i turned round in the end to go back to the center and try again, only to see signs for my destination in the direction i had just come from. arrgghh. i wanted to open up the throttle and just pass everything riding like a twat to vent my frustration at the wasted time but i screamed at my self that i was feeling fit, i had not had any negative police encounters, the bike was running fine, and if i stayed another day it was no problem, get this in perspective and calm down, if you have an accident now you only have your tantrum to blaim, and it worked , to a degree, in all this confusion i aslo found an oil shop and changed my oil right there in the shade of a tree, ,i filled up with petrol and changed more money because one way or an ohter i will be back in russaia. so havingfinally got on the ellusive right road i reflected that everything got done, but it was done irritable, sweatily, and with dificulty. i stopped in the shade and had a snadwich and drink i;m filthy again, sweat, oil, dirt, dust, its like this most of the time, im just getting used to it, the fresh clean entry into the morning lasts till the first red light then its all over tilll the next available shower. i stood in a queue in a supermarket the other day self-rightiously glairing at the stinking people around me as you would if a mobile phone rang in a funeral service only to realize the smell is from my bike trousers, ive gone to riding in combats now, not as much protection but more air circulation. so then for the next few miles towards kazakhstan i found it very hard to find anything to worry about. but that ofcourse was short lived. a little temperary toll bridge , 'see' i said to myslef lucky you changed money eh? it was a wobbly affair but im used to them. and at the other end a choice of direction and no clue as to which one to take, is this a road trip or a relationship analogy? it took 5 directions and asking 3 people before i got it right, and i got the hell out of there, its about relationships isnt it. to the boarder and exiting russia was easy they didnt even want to see my visa registration which i had spicafically stayed at an expensive hotel to get. so as not to meeet with any fines or problems, typical. so i'm out but i'm not in. just a long bit of road, im in no mans land, what would happen if i came off here? i saw a small red velvet custion at the side of the road, perfect of my boney aching arse, but why would some one throw out a custion here? wahts inside it, i decided it was best left and aong came Kazakhstan.not to tricky only one cleaver litttle burocratic fee to pay and i haggeld and got it for five quid. but the heat, the officials seem to get great pleasure in watching you bake in the queue when thye could so easily let you into the shade of the inspection area. with documents stamped i passed through the barrier and i am besizged by money changers and othervendors, i got an ok rate and bought a bottle of frozen water off an enterprising kid on a bicycle. all the time trying to keep an eye on my pannies and posessions as the crowed surrounds me, its time like this a loud exhause note is a bonus. its disperses the throng better than bad breath. so wet with sweat all but a numb horrizontal strip on my chest where my frozen water is stuffed inside my jacket i head into Kazakhstan, whooping in my helmet at my acheviment. and on my god what a change, russia , ukrain and the ones before were western dispite there indivualality but i am instantly in a hostile desert with mud huts, and camels roaing across the road. CAMELS ROAMING ACROSS HE ROAD, i have riden this far, lizzards on the hot tarmac and nothing on either side of me, no trees , nothing but parched dry inhospitable desert. i make a mental note to carry more water, the road is ok but there are big potholes with out any notice, so it s probably just as well there is not much to look at as i neet to keep attension on the road ahead, i hit one, one in 5000 not to bad but tell that to my wheel and spokes they just dont like that. and then 3 bikes come the other way, we are such rare creatures out here, its not a matter of a wave or a toot, we stop and shakehands, they are 3 germans and before my sidestand had bedded into the dust the subjet has got round to the world cup. the usual reports of bad roads, expensive hotels and worse heat to come, but its good to chat, and i realize how different it is to ride alone, not better or worse just different, mentally they are in a different place to me, its not just beating Argentian its that in my helmet is reflection and analisis in theres is a break from the company. ive done both kind of riding, and although i envy there companionship i wouldnt change not right now im taking this all in , right in, deep inside and 'theres a journey going on inside my head man' but really, i think how some people get up and instantly turn on the radio or tv, instant stimulation, and whne if ever do they have time for reflection. its good to have that, but like anything in moderation. so the camels become common as do hurdsmen in the fields. the cars hoot and wave and the smiles are back on the faces but the faces have changed the hair is black and the skin dark, the dress is all encompassing and the beauty is discreat. i stop as a train track crosses the road, and as the acient heavy engine drags its cargo across my path i focus on the stationay car in front of me there is a pink floyd sticker on the boot,, how cool is that? and i sing learning to fly in my head for the rest of the day i have gained another hour and as the desert skies turn brilliant reds in my mirrors as i enter Atyrau, and the divecity of this oil rich country becomes instantly apparent. big hight rise hotels, wide clean streets, big squares surrounded by multistory banks and people of every discription playing in fountains under flags and banners, gold roofed churches and round topped mosques . and best off all the occasional signpost, and i cross the Ural river from europe into Asia, although confusingly it going north south, ho humm. and that is where i still am, aclimatizing and emersing myself in this beautiful diverse city, its so hot the hotels are not expensive, and the roads are ok, the people are friendly and speak a little english,and a little russain much like myself. the faces are so different, and the mud huts of the old city stand in the shade of multinational hi rise buildings. im in awe and monklet is smiling, even when i flex my mussels and tie him on to tight he smiles, , when i scream at my self to slow down he smiles, when i turn around and go back the way we came he smiles when im distracted by camels and potholes monklet still smiles.. , and when the germans think they will win the world cup i think i heard him laugh. Love Flid |
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