Originally I planned to do the Pamir highway in Tajikistan with the Irish couple (Niamh and Karl). After the cold in Krygystan and some research into onwards flights, I changed my mind. As much as I loved Central Asia I was starting to feel ready to move on, to have some warmth and better food and other travellers again. I didn’t think I’d have time to visit India, and had been put off from going from people who said it wouldn’t be very pleasant as a solo woman. Travelling for 9 months has done wonders for my self-belief and I felt like I would be fine visiting alone, and speaking to Alice (a british girl I met in Uzbekistan who’d been to India several times alone) cemented this. The flights I was looking at to get to Nepal had a stop-over in New Delhi, so it made much more sense to just stop there and travel to Nepal by land. This is a long way of saying that I cut my time in Tajikistan short, only visiting for 1 week and skipping the Pamir highway trip. I would love to do it another time, in the spring, perhaps on bike and maybe with my Dad (if he’s up for it)…

Impressions of Tajikistan

The people
Despite lots of warnings from Kyrgyz, Kazakhs and Uzbeks, the Tajik people were very friendly. Their appearance is more Persian than Asian, and one person even said I looked like a Tajik mountain girl (he assured me it was a compliment…). My favourite thing about Tajik people is the hand on heart they do as a greeting/thank you/goodbye, like their version of an acknowledging head nod.

The scenery
Like Kyrgystan, Tajikistan is very mountainous (93% in fact) but it’s more hard rock face than green. Looking out from a panorama point the number of mountains really hit me - it was all I could see, just rows and rows of mountains. These were a purple colour, trees were sparse. The small amount of flat land is very fertile, with a huge amount of fruits and vegetables grown there in the summer. It seems like a harsh climate, and that struck me more than the beauty of the place.

The food
Same as in the rest of the region. More plov, lagman, manti and samsas. Specialty dish is Kurotob. The base of this is bread in yogurt. I had a dinner variety one in a restaurant that was surprisingly tasty, topped with meat and tomatoes and lots of fresh herbs. I had a breakfast variety at a guesthouse and it was just heavy.

The vibe
A little rougher feeling than the other countries. Proudly Persian. The cities are faux modern - tall, brand new buildings that sit empty, with most people living in one-storey houses along dirt roads. The villages are proudly not modern.

My travels

Both my entrance and exit into Tajikistan were stressful. I caught the overnight train from Samarkand, Uzbekistan to Dushanbe, Tajikistan. The train guard was a very friendly man, but slightly too friendly for my liking. There was some confusion where he wanted me to move beds to the bed next to him, and I couldn’t see why, the carriage was practically empty so if I had to move I could move to an area by myself! After some very confusing google translate messages (see below) I eventually got my way and had a bed alone.

This wasn’t the end however and he made me join him to drink wine with another guard. This was all quite pleasant a part from the fact he was constantly kissing my cheeks and forehead, and trying to kiss me on the lips and neck. I felt very uncomfortable by the end and didn’t sleep well.
My exit was even more dramatic. I got the night train again, going in the reverse direction to Tashkent, Uzbekistan. Completely unintentionally, and to the fault of another passenger who gestured for me to go out of the station to the platform where my train was waiting, I wriggled through what I now understand was a gap in a wall rather than a doorway, bypassing the customs and border control. The result of this was I’d illegally left Tajikistan and was completely unaware of it. This was until I was strong-armed off the train by several army men and border officials. After some initial shouting and demanding of my passport which, to make matters worse, I didn’t have as I’d handed it in to some lady on the train, my utter ignorance and therefore innocence became clear. The anger became baffled head shakes and laughs as they ran me over to the border control to get my exit stamp before the train left. Sadly that wasn’t the end of my issues on this train, with there being a man in my bed and a lady in his bed. Eventually this was sorted and I ended up in a carriage with two Turkish men, who showed me lots of pictures of sheep (I still have no idea why).

Beyond the initial and ending stress, my time in Tajikistan was very enjoyable. I used Dushanbe as a base and was surprised at how modern the city was, with lots of nice cafes for me to sit in and catch up on some blog writing. Beyond that it was an extremely grey and dreary place. I went on a two-day tour to the south of the country which was quite eventful. It was supposed to be a tour to Iskanderkul lake in the north, but the terrible weather meant the pass was closed. My guide Denis was wonderful and came up with an alternative plan, and we made a long drive south, stopping to look at different interest points on the way, me filling the rest of the time by quizzing Denis on every aspect of Tajik life (poor guy). We even saw the very end of the Tajik version of Kok boru! We had a very traditional experience at a homestay in a small village, and it was wonderful to see village life here. We spent the precious evening hours before the electricity was turned off (there have been huge problems with energy shortages in all of Central Asia this winter) playing a soviet card game with two little boys. Not to sugar coat this experience, the toilet was a literal pit in the ground in a shed at the bottom of the garden and there was no running water. I was given the one room with a fireplace in so I would be warm, this did mean sleeping on the floor but I was perfectly comfortable and was even offered a woman to sleep with me in case I was scared to sleep alone! For breakfast we had traditional Kurotob - fried bread covered in Tajik yogurt, topped with more fried bread. It was served in a giant wooden bowl and we all ate with our hands from it.

Denis and I set off for a hike but managed to pop one of the tyres on the 4WD car. I finally learnt how to change a tyre, something that’s a lot easier than I assumed, and I still got to have a little hike. We took the older road back, driving through some unbelievable little villages. The children were so striking here. Some very dark and some very fair with blonde hair and blue eyes. We stopped in one of the villages after driving past a group of girls collecting water from a spring. I watched them load up a donkey with water and then helped them carry the buckets down the road. I’m so glad I had the chance to see more of Tajikistan than just Dushanbe. Both the scenery and village life were so interesting. On arriving back into the city I went to a bar to wait for Niamh and Karl to arrive. I struck up conversation with a guy from Nigeria and a guy from South Africa after being surprised to hear english. We ended up going to a club and I marvelled at the contrast of my morning (pissing in a pit, eating with two men from a giant bowl of greasy bread) to my night (dancing in a club with gogo girls). The difference between city and village life across Central Asia is vast. I joined Denis again for a group hike, and enjoyed trudging through deep snow up a valley alongside the German ambassador for Tajikistan and other interesting expats.

The Silk Road

You have probably all heard of the Silk Road. It pertains to a 5000 mile network of trading routes across Eurasia from around 115 BC to the 1450s AD. The image of one caravan of camels moving goods all the way from China to Rome isn’t quite accurate however. Instead, caravans would operate on small segments of the route, with items being traded in towns and then continuing with a new caravan along the next segment. As the name of the Silk Road suggests, one of the main trade products was silk, with it moving from China over to Europe. Another big commodity, going in the reverse direction from Central Asia to China, were horses. This was the reason the Silk Road began in fact. The soil in China lacked Selenium, which meant Chinese horses lacked muscular strength and had reduced growth. The Chinese wanted the superior horses that existed on the Steppes of Central Asia, bred by nomads. The nomads wanted silk and grain, and thus the trading began. Other products were introduced as time went on and trade routes expanded: spices, tea, honey, wine, gold, dyes, perfumes and porcelain. It wasn’t just products that moved along the Silk Road, it provided an unprecedented diffusion of ideas, religions (especially Buddhism), philosophies and scientific discoveries. It was the very beginning of globalisation. Not all that was transported was positive, with some scholars believing that the Great Plague was spread to Europe from Asia along the Silk Road. Its impacts on world history can’t be overstated in my opinion!

The Silk Road came to an end with the rise of the Ottoman Empire, which severed trade between East and West. Sea routes began to be used instead of going overland, and this led to the age of exploration with Europeans discovering the Americas and beyond. There is now a ‘New Silk Road’, a name given to several large infrastructure projects hoping to expand transportation along the historic trade route. An example is the ‘Belt and Road Initiative’ funded by China, and I’ve had the pleasure of using some of the new roads myself when in Turkey.

Along the Silk Road several cities were established, as an oasis to the caravans. These were places for the caravan to rest, for the merchants to trade, and for the travellers to socialise. This is where the exchange of ideas, philosophy and religion happened. These towns all had caravanserai which were the ancient hostel in a way. Often a courtyard shape, with the animals being kept on the ground floor, with rooms for the travellers on a second floor. The first caravanserai I encountered on my trip was in Sarajevo, Bosnia. Since then I’ve seen countless others, especially in Turkey. The caravanserai are often the only hint at the city’s Silk Road history. The cities have evolved into something quite different, and have a life of their own now. When you enter the Silk Road cities of Uzbekistan this period of their history is all you can comprehend. They remain frozen as safe havens in the desert. Maybe it’s because I’m currently reading a book set along the Silk Road (thanks for sending it to me Alex!) but as I roamed the deserted streets of Khiva at sunrise I felt like I was experiencing it as a traveller who had spent weeks in the desert, overjoyed to be back in civilisation, rather than a backpacker who had spent 22 hours on a train! I don’t know why hype of these cities hasn’t reached England, but it will soon I’m sure. They all have similar architecture, namely brown mud walls with the flash of blue ceramics in every shade imaginable, in a frequency that gives the city colour whilst still being rare enough to feel like you’ve stumbled upon a treasure. They all have multiple mosques, minarets, markets and madrasahs (old Islamic schools). They all have a main square called the Registan. Whilst these features derive from the Islamic history of the cities, their grandeur and importance comes from its place on the Silk Road. The wealth that the trade brought and throngs of people passing through meant it was both possible and necessary to build such huge structures. The history of these places is one of the most palpable I’ve ever experienced - on the same level as walking around the Valley of the Kings in Egypt, or Pompeii in Italy. But unlike these places, they feel more alive. Real people still live in the Old Town, new merchants selling handmade fabric and ceramic goods fill the holes of the ancient bazaars and trading domes.

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My travels

I crossed into Uzbekistan from south Kyrgystan, getting a marshrutka the short distance from Osh to the border. I crossed on foot, experiencing much interest and suspicion over my British passport. I had to wait a while at the Uzbek side, with them appearing to be unsure over whether I needed a visa to enter or not (I did not). As I waited for the guard to return with my passport, the other guard was very curious about my marital status! Once I got through I exchanged my small amount of leftover Kyrgyz som to Uzbek som, being startled by the exchange rate with was 14,000 som to £1! I took my wad of cash and put my head down to march through the battlefield of taxi drivers. They were the most forceful I’d experienced in Central Asia, but I’d done my research and knew there was a public bus which stopped just past the taxi ranks. I rammed myself onto this, standing ladled with my bags for an hour. We arrived into Andijan and from here I was able to get a shared taxi to Ferghana where my taxi driver offloaded me into a damas (a tiny van that I’d already clocked were everywhere in Uzbekistan) which took me to Margilan. The whole journey took about 4.5 hours (including the border crossing) and cost £5.90, which depleted my Uzbek soms. I checked into my hotel and walked into the city centre to do the new country admin of taking out some money and getting a sim card. A problem revealed itself - there was a city wide powercut. No electricity meant no ATMs were working and no wifi was working. This meant I had no money and no internet, also being unable to get a sim card. I was rather stuck! I visited a silk factory whilst I prayed the power would return, risking my life walking around the city as no power also meant no traffic lights. Eventually I saw lights flickering back on in all of the shops, and I raced to join the long line at the ATM. I returned to the hotel with money, a sim card, and a strange sense of accomplishment!

From Margilan I travelled 22 hours by train to Khiva - my first real Silk Road city. The train journey was long but easily spent with blog writing, watching netflix and chatting to the group of old women who spent an hour showing me videos from the wedding they’d been attending and photos of all of their grandchildren. They also gave me an entire loaf (well, circle) of bread?

Khiva

I arrived at sunrise and made the most of this by exploring the old town in the morning light, devoid of any other people. The old town was small, surrounded by a big city wall and completely conserved within, no modern buildings in sight. It felt like walking around a film set, or an open air museum. I learnt that the town has been heavily restored, which is maybe why I didn’t love it quite as much as you’d imagine. It had an air of fakeness to it which subtracted from the historical ambience. It was still pretty cool though. I especially loved the Kalta Minor Minaret, an unfinished tower which was short but charmingly wide, and completely covered in blue mosaics. Khiva was the city where I felt most encapsulated in the history. The little streets with small doorways, shops filled with bright fabrics and ceramics hidden within. Items so beautiful that they were too much for even me to pass up on, and I purchased a beautiful, and reversible, silk and cotton jacket. I bought the ‘VIP’ ticket (actually, it was the only type of ticket so really it should just be called standard) so I could visit the Mausoleum and go up the tall minaret, only to find out neither of these were actually included in the ticket. What was included in the overpriced ticket? No less than 15 of the worst ‘museums’ I have ever visited. Most had no english translations and seemed to house a completely eclectic collection of items (see image of one of these items, a rare one with an english translation). But after shelling out for the stupid ticket I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to visit every last one of them. It became a mission to cross them all off the little map stapled to my ticket and one that left me quite tired by the end. The only two things worth seeing where the Kuhana Ark, where you could climb up a tower for views of the city (but don’t go too near to closing time, as they don’t check if anyone’s on top before closing the door at the bottom…), and the Toshhovli palace. But it was fun to enter into all of the Madrasahs which housed the museums I suppose.

Unexpectedly, I met an english girl (Alice) in the lovely terrace restaurant in Khiva, and it turns out she was doing a similar journey to me (England to Australia overland)! It was wonderful to compare our routes so far, and commiserate on our shared disappointment of not being able to do the ferry crossing from Azerbaijan to Kazakhstan.

Bukhara

Eight hours by train from Khiva lies my next stop. Bukhara’s old town is a bit more spread out, with no big city wall and much wider streets separating the Madrasahs and minarets. Instead of shops buried in small alleys, the merchants occupied large trading domes. The mosques, minarets and Madrasahs were bigger too. It was a bit more lively than quiet Khiva. The Ark Fortress (the old citadel) was off to the side of the old town, and was huge even if 80% of it was still rubble after being bombed by the Red Army in the 1920s. I ventured inside and was told I had to buy a ticket, after my negative experience in Khiva I asked what exactly the ticket included and was told three museums. It was £3 so I decided I would do it. Climbing up to the main area I was disappointed but unsurprised to find that 2 of the museums were locked, and there wasn’t much to see up there at all. Armed with my complaint I returned to the ticket office and was gaslighted by the woman who insisted the museums were open. Eventually I was escorted back up and wow, the museums were locked! A guy came and unlocked them. It turns out he was the manager of the fortress and he ended up giving me a full guided tour, probably feeling like he had to after seeing my very unimpressed expression. When he couldn’t answer my questions on the history of Bukhara he called up the head of the history department, at this point I was feeling very lucky! Both of them then took me to the non-public parts of the fortress which was pretty cool.

Samarkand

A much shorter 2.5 hour train journey took me to Samarkand, my final Silk Road city. Samarkand was the one place I had heard about previously, peering at the impressive photos of the Registan Square on my laptop all those years ago when I started to plan my trip. I arrived in the evening and after dropping my bags at the hostel, decided to go for a run. It had dawned on me that I was planning to do my Himalayan hike in only 6 weeks and I hadn’t done any cardio in months! It also shows just how safe I feel in Uzbekistan, I wouldn’t even feel comfortable going for a run at night in London. I ran down to the Registan Square and got my first look at it, all lit up. It looked a bit smaller than I’d imagined, but was utterly beautiful. I couldn’t believe I was seeing it with my own eyes. The following day I returned in the sun, taking my time to explore each of the three Madrasahs. The first one I entered, Ulugh Beg Madrasah, was my favourite. On entering the courtyard my jaw literally dropped, and I audibly said “wow” to no one but myself. I’ve seen some really beautiful sights over the last 8.5 months, and this is the first one that has actually left me speechless. And I’d spent the last week visiting Silk Road sights. That tells you all you need to know! But I’ll give you a description anyway… Two stories surrounding a courtyard, every inch of wall covered in mosaic tiles in blue, white, yellow, orange and green. I climbed to the second floor, being at eye level with the arches as they were filled with sunlight. The more you looked the more details revealed themselves, and the more it felt like the beauty and history was unravelling for you. The colours and warmth surrounding me in a bubble of mosaic heaven. I took SO many photos! The other two Madrasahs were also beautiful, and I especially liked the tiger details on the front of the Sherdor Madrasah. A part from the Registan Square, which is definitely the crown jewel of the Silk Road, Samarkand has a few Mausoleums and mosques scattered around. One which surprised me in it’s uniqueness was the Shah-i-Zinda complex. This is several Mausoleums in a row, forming a narrow corridor which means your entire perspective is filled with mosaics. Samarkand is a much more modern city than Bukhara or Khiva. When you stepped away from whatever mosque or madrasah you were visiting, you were sucked back into modern day leaving the Silk Road history behind.

I had a few days in Samarkand as I waited for my Tajikistan e-visa to be approved, and I really enjoyed taking the time to savour each of the sights. The sunny weather was also much appreciated. And the company of Alice who caught up with me here! From Samarkand I got an overnight train to Dushanbe, Tajikistan. I’d be returning to Uzbekistan to visit Tashkent which is where I would be heading to my next destination (sadly by flight), but I’ll keep that a surprise for now!

I thought I might get tired of Silk Road cities after visiting three in a row, but I abolutely did not. All three were so different and I’m really not sure which was my favourite. The Registan Square in Samarkand was definitely the highlight, but the overall vibe of Khiva and Bukhara were more special. I’m sorry to say you have to visit all three in my opinion, no shortcuts available here!

Tashkent

My return to Tashkent was brief and uneventful, but I enjoyed going to both a ballet and an opera at the national theatre. Even more so because they only cost £2.20 each! I had some fun changing my leftover Tajik somoni to Uzbek som with a random man at the bazaar. I said goodbye to my pair of jeans that were ripped beyond saving after I’d already sewed them up 3 times. I excitedly waited for my flight to India!

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People in Uzbekistan

I had been told by people in Kazakhstan and Kyrgystan that Uzbek people were the nicest and most friendly in Central Asia. This wasn’t my complete experience. I found that I was hassled the most in Uzbekistan, by taxi drivers, by people selling souvenirs, by sellers in bazaars. Probably because people are more used to tourists in the Silk Road cities? On trains, people mostly left me alone rather than striking up conversation and being very friendly. In my experience, Kazakhs remain the most friendly in Central Asia. I did have some very lovely interactions, with one of my guesthouse owners cooking me traditional plov as a ‘gift’. In Samarkand I had groups of teenage girls come up to me on three separate occasions to ask to speak to me - wanting to practice their english, ask me questions and take photos with me. One group even wanted to film an interview with me, asking me about how I’d found Samarkand.

Full Moon Check-in

1. Last: Driving along Issyl-Kul lake in Kyrgystan.
2. Current: Walking to the pub to meet Niamh and Karl to watch the football and go out for one last meal together (for now!).
3. Future: In Kathmandu, preparing to head to the Himalayas.

Disclaimer: I wrote this on a 22 hour train journey so it is LONG because I had a whole lot of time on my hands!

Impressions of Kyrgystan

The people
Kyrgyz people are, in general, less friendly than Kazakhs. They’re still very friendly, but people didn’t stop to chat to me as often as in Kazakhstan. However I had more very friendly encounters, where people would invite me to join their party, or take me out for lunch.

The scenery
Breathtaking. Like seriously, wow. It is 94% mountains so wherever you are, there’s a mountain in at least one direction. Issyl-kul lake is beautiful. The southern mountainous region is stunning. It’s all just good. I can see why it is big for hiking and nature-based activities! On the other end of the spectrum, the cities are abysmal. Soviet in all senses, which can have a certain charm about it, but not in winter conditions. The grey blocks partially visible behind a curtain of revolting air pollution, along desolate roads covered in ice and snow mush did nothing for me.

The food
Basically the same as Kazakhstan. The national dish is even the same - beshparmark. I tried samsa here, it’s a pasty but in a triangle. This was the most delicious thing I ate, so I think that sums it up. I also tried horse here. The first time I had it I did not like it. It tasted like a horse smells. The second time it was actually really delicious, so perhaps it’s in how it’s prepared.

The vibe
Unlike Kazakhstan, Kyrgystan knows what it is. It’s a country of nomads with rich nature. And it’s nailing this vibe! Wherever you go you see people on horses, you see yurts, you see mountains and trees and lakes. It’s also capitalising on it, with a great network of community-based tourism centres which organise homestays and yurt stays and affordable activities like horse treks and cultural dinners. In the summer months, the nomad population actually becomes nomadic, moving to yurts across the country to live with their livestock. I will 100% be returning to Kyrgystan in the summertime to experience this - to hike some of the gorgeous multi-day treks where you stay with actual nomads in their yurts each night. But first, I need to learn russian! I would fully recommend doing the same if you’re into nature. Kyrgystan is in that perfect sweet spot of being off the beaten track but having accessible tourism infrastructure, making it easy to experience local life. It also has beautiful sights actually worth seeing (unlike Kazakhstan…).

Lenin is everywhere
I noticed a huge number of monuments to Lenin whilst just existing in Kyrgystan. From statues in every town, Lenin streets commonly seen, and the biggest mountain being named Lenin’s peak. There are several suggested reasons for why Lenin’s influence wasn’t completely scrubbed out, like in other former Soviet states.

1. Lenin’s role in Kyrgyz history. Lenin is acknowledged as the person who brought Kyrgystan its statehood and the person who brought an end to the Great Urkun (a revolt against tsarist conscription in 1916).
2. Creating continuity with the Soviet era to try and keep the international population in Kyrgystan, after the ‘brain drain’ which occurred immediately after the collapse of the USSR.
3. Using Lenin as a symbol of safety and optimism, especially for the older generation. The transition from communism to capitalism did not go smoothly in Kyrgystan, like in so many other former Soviet states, and so there may have been a sense of nostalgia for the Soviet times. Lenin’s figure may have acted as a beacon of optimism, that Krygystan would once again prosper.

From The Contested Histories Initiative, ”Statue of Lenin in Bishkek”, Contested Histories Case Study #93 (May 2022)

My travels

Day 1 - 3: Bokonbyaevo
Being my second Central Asian country, I felt a lot more comfortable with the peculiarities of travel here. I arrived by bus into Bishkek (the capital) from Almaty, Kazakhstan. The road was icy and an accident meant we were stopped on the side of the road for 2 hours. I was in the mood for nature rather than cities after spending so long in Almaty, so the next morning (after doing the new country admin of getting out cash and getting a sim card) I caught a marshrutka to a town on the south side of Issyl-Kul lake called Bokonbyaevo. The journey took 5.5 hours and we stopped at a strangely fancy service station on the way. I arrived into the town after dark and decided to walk the 40 minutes to my guesthouse to stretch my legs. This was probably a mistake. A conclusion I reached whilst zig-zagging my way past drunken men stumbling around and stray dogs. I ate a disappointing meal of turkey leg with the ends of the feathers still in it, noodles, potatoes and a bowl of meat grease on the side that the lady insisted I drink (I got away with just taking a sip in the end). A vegetable was a mystical being it seemed. The following day I ventured to Skazka canyon by marshrutka, taking note of the horrific condition of the road on the way there. I enjoyed walking around and getting lost in the ridges of rock, or the folds of a dragon if you believe the myth about the canyon (that it’s a dragon which turned to stone from shock in seeing the lake that had formed from its curse to flood the valley every full moon until the woman who rejected its advances agreed to them - weird). On my walk back to the road I spied a cafe on google maps and went to check it out, very much fancying a coffee to warm up. As I neared the cafe I was expecting it to be closed, but was elated to see people inside! I realised my mistake as soon as I’d opened the door - definitely not open, it was just a family having a party inside. Before I knew it I was sat down in the centre of the table, eating a plate of plov (rice with meat and a few veggies) and salad, giving a toast with vodka! I had a lovely few hours eating and chatting with the Kyrgyz family, who all spoke some english. I wandered back to the main road and stuck my thumb out to hitchhike back. The first truck driver that passed stopped and picked me up. I usually have a rule against hitchhiking in trucks but this man had kind eyes so I climbed on in. He was very friendly, although I made the mistake of answering honestly to the inevitable ‘Are you married?’ question, meaning the rest of the 30 minute journey was filled with him proposing marriage to me! We had a laugh and he dropped me outside the town. I bought a salad from the supermarket for dinner as an alternative to another meal at the guesthouse…

Day 3 - 4: Yurt stay
From Bokonbyaevo I got a taxi down to the lake’s edge to stay in a yurt for a night. I’m sure it’s packed with visitors in the summer, but it was completely deserted now. I enjoyed a day of stillness and nature. It was truly wonderful. I walked along the lake, stopping to write some poetry and just take in the impressive scenery. The huge lake, mountains just about visible through the clouds on the other side, mountains very much visible in every other direction. I found a stone circle look out point, complete with pallet seats. I did yoga in the sun here, more sitting in stillness, more writing. I warmed up in my yurt and changed into my bikini, going for a bracing swim in the cold lake. It was around 6 degrees I believe, but with the sun shining down it wasn’t too bad at all! I made some hot tea in my flask and went back out to watch the sunset. I watched ‘Where the Crawdads Sing’ (not as good as the book of course, but I enjoyed it) cuddled up in the yurt and then went to sleep. The yurt was a bit too cosy, airing on the side of suffocating. It was heated with an electric heater (traditionally a coal fire) and I woke up in the night in a strange sweat and with a clammy mouth. Paired with the strange noises outside, I didn’t sleep well at all! After a delicious breakfast prepared by the group of women running the yurt camp, I set off to find the main road. It was about 4km away through desert like landscape hugging the lake, which made for a very enjoyable walk/adventure. I didn’t see a single person, but there were some little houses at points. I rounded one corner and the most perfect beach appeared. The sun was shining even more strongly than the previous day and I toyed with the idea of taking another swim. There was really no reason to not - I was in no hurry, I had my swimming stuff with me seeing as I had all of my stuff with me! I slid down to the beach and dropped my bags, changed into my bikini and scuttled into the water. It was even more magnificent this time. I finished the walk to the road, spotting a child on horseback herding a cow and some graffiti in english. Without even sticking my thumb out this time, a car stopped and offered to take me to Karakol for a small fee (hitchhiking is a common mode of transport in Kyrgystan, but often you have to pay a bit). I agreed and we set off, first stopping in another town to pick up a family who found my presence very interesting. The smallest girl showed me photos of her whole family and the earrings she makes. Disappointingly for them, I was so tired after my poor night’s sleep and morning walk and swim I quickly fell asleep in the car, having to be woken up by the driver once we’d reached Karakol.

Day 4 - 7: Karakol
Karakol is the fourth largest city in Kyrgystan, and is located in the East right by the Tian Shan mountains, pretty close to China. In the summer it’s the base for hiking, climbing, biking and any other nature-based activity. In the winter, it’s a little quieter but there are visitors around for winter sports like backcountry skiing and snow-shoeing. It is home to Dungan people, an ethnic group originally from China. Their traditional dish is Ashlan-Fu, which I tried for dinner one evening in the aptly named Ashlan-Fu alley in the bazaar. It’s a cold noodle soup dish, with scrambled eggs on top and an interesting sharp and spicy flavour. On my first day here I skied, being very happy with the long and fun beginners slope. If you’re a good skier the rest of the runs looked insane, with no markings and the option of traversing through the forest whenever you want. On my second day I went paragliding. It was one of the few activities on my bucket list for this trip, and as it was only £35 I couldn’t resist. This price was on my mind when we got to the top of the mountain and I eyed several pieces of duct tape on the parachute, and when trying to communicate with the non-english speaking instructor, but we made it through! It was even more fun than I imagined, and not at all scary (bar the initial running down a near vertical icy slope with a man shouting “faster” in my ear and my legs being left behind me). If I wasn’t on a budget, I would 100% have gone right back to the top of the mountain and done it again. The weather was perfect on this day, and I decided to make the most of it by going to some hot springs in the afternoon. Armed with the instructions on how to get there from the hostel and a takeaway flat white (the luxury!) I caught the correctly numbered marshrutka, which did not drop me off where I expected. No worries, I was happy to walk the 7km up the valley to the hot springs, enjoying spotting horses drinking from a frozen river and eagles in the sky. This was until an old man wanted to shake my hand, and then would not release it. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he chortled at me in russian, despite my repeated “Я не понимаю по-русски!” (I don’t understand russian). Eventually I was able to wrestle my hand away and I sped down the road. Sadly this wasn’t the last time I saw the strange man, as he pulled up to me in a marshrutka and bundled me inside, then following me when I got off. Again, I had to wrestle myself from his grip. At this point I was feeling stressed out and my tolerance for him was at zero. I forcefully told him no in russian, and speed walked away. Luckily, I am a very fast walker, and he was old with a limp, so it wasn’t an issue to escape from him. As I walked I kept glancing behind me to see he was still following and shouting after me. I reached the hot springs which were beautiful, positioned in the nook of the valley, but I spent the first 30 minutes anxiously watching the road through the steam in case he appeared. He did not and I was able to relax into the hot water. My third day was spent hunkered down in a cafe while a snowstorm raged outside, and the temperature dropped to -19 degrees. That evening I bumped into a guy I’d met on Christmas day (Francis), he was travelling with a friend who had come to visit him. We went out for dinner and drinks together, and it was nice to socialise after spending the last few days alone.

Day 7 - 12: Bishkek
It was at this point that my time in Kyrgystan started to go downhill. I wanted to do a snowshoe trek to a yurt camp nearby Karakol, but the severe cold meant this wasn’t possible, and wouldn’t be for almost a week. The two day hike I wanted to do also wasn’t possible at this time of year it turned out. So I decided to return to Bishkek and continue my journey south. The bus journey was one of the worst so far, it took about 8 hours and was gruelling. I bumped into Karl and Niamh (the irish couple) in the hostel in Bishkek and the following day we visited Burana tower - an old minaret in a very picturesque location. The next day I explored Bishkek itself. Perhaps it is a nice city, but I could hardly even see it through the thick smog. The air pollution from coal fires used to heat homes, and the cold air keeping it trapped in the city, resulted in a horrific atmosphere and it made me feel ill and unhappy. The importance, and luxury, of clean air became startlingly apparent to me. I visited the museum which was very well done, with a floor on the ancient, nomadic and modern history of the country. I met up with a local lady for coffee and we chatted about being a woman in Krygystan, and the practice of bride kidnapping here (more on this sort of thing in another post!). I really wanted to see the traditional game of Kok Boru - imagine polo but nomadic style, with a beheaded goat carcass instead of a ball. I had managed to find the number of the Kok Boru Federation from instagram and had been in touch with a guy about it. He wanted to meet for lunch so I agreed, and he took me to a nice restaurant and we chatted. He said there would be a game tomorrow so I decided to stay an extra day in Bishkek to see it. After waiting around all day he finally messaged me at 4pm, and he picked me up to take me to a humorously named ‘Hyde Park”. Alas, there was no Kok Boru, but I did get to ride around the playing field and see a beautiful sunset. He also paid for another delicious meal, and this time with his whole family. His wife spoke good english and was very interesting to chat to, so all was not lost! He said tomorrow there would be Kok Boru, so again I waited, and again there was no Kok Boru. I bumped into Francis again and drowned my sorrows over pints of surprisingly good, scrumpy-like cider (Francis is from nearby Tiverton in England so we obviously had to go for cider). I was fed up of the air pollution and the disappointment so decided to move on the following day. You can’t win them all, and seeing Kok Boru was one I’d lost.

Day 12 - 14: Arslanbob
I managed to find a shared taxi to Arslanbob and the journey took an excruciating 12 hours (perhaps because I was a bit hungover after the ciders the night before). The scenery was absolutely insane though, with us driving across two mountain passes, windows filled with rugged mountains and soft snow covered hills. I arrived at midnight to my homestay in the small mountain town. Facilities were limited. No running water but a kettle of warm water was provided for me to wash my face. An outside, squat toilet, the route to which was treacherous with ice and in the darkness I slipped and fell into a snowdrift. The room was cold. But I was happy, some excitement after the dullness of Bishkek! Arslanbob is a pretty town and is the home of the walnut. It is surrounded by ancient walnut forests and mountains. It’s off the beaten path in the summer, with only some of the visiting tourists venturing out to it for hiking. In the winter, there were no other visitors. The english speaking guy who had helped me find the shared taxi asked to meet for lunch and I agreed. He showed me around the busy market in the town centre, then to a small waterfall and a panorama point. He was very chatty and I picked his brains on Kyrgyz culture and current affairs, his opinions on being Uzbek but living in Kyrgystan (the entire village and region is ethnically Uzbek), his opinions on Afghanistan as a muslim - more on all of this in another post. After lunch we went our separate ways and I continued exploring alone. I saw children sledging down every sloping road, older children using a strange ice skate-like device. Children would either shout “Hello!” at me and want to practice their english, or stare at me like I was an alien, eventually breaking into a shy smile when I said “hello” to them. I wondered if it will feel strange when I’m back home where every single person on the street doesn’t stare me. I got lost walking through along the snowy streets to the mountains, and back through the little paths through the thick snow in the woodland. From Arslanbob I caught the one marshrutka a day, at 6:50am, which went to Osh.

Day 14 - 16: Osh
Osh is the second biggest city and is ethnically Uzbek. I couchsurfed here, staying with two Indian medical students. There’s not much to say about Osh to be honest, the only things to see are the little mountain in its centre, the bazaar, and a huge Lenin statue. The guys I stayed with were nice, and cooked some great indian food for me. The sleeping situation wasn’t ideal - they didn’t have mattresses for some reason so I slept directly on the bed frame. Like Bishkek, the air pollution was bad here, and it made me feel equally unhappy. I was looking forward to heading to Uzbekistan at this point!

Leaving thoughts

I really liked Kyrgystan. I had some very fun experiences here and felt like I had reached optimal travelling confidence. I was happy to hitchhike frequently and just see where I ended up each day. It was also the first time I’d been unable to do things I wanted to do because of the weather, with hiking and long horse treks being off the table. At first, this annoyed me. Then I realised I now knew I wanted to come back to Kyrgystan in the summer to hike, something I doubt would ever have occurred to me if I hadn’t visited it on this trip! Kyrgystan has the potential to be one of my favourite countries, with its insane nature and rich culture, but the horrific air pollution and things not going 100% smoothly means it’s not quite there after this visit. I had some real fun here, and often felt like I was really travelling alone across a strange place.

Full Moon Check-in

1. Last: In Yerevan, Armenia.
2. Current: I first saw it as the sun was setting, on the bus journey from Bishkek along the Issyl-Kul lake. It was beautiful. It lighted my way as I walked the 2km through the dirt streets of Bokonbayevo to my guesthouse.
3. Future: In some silk road city in Uzbekistan.

Ever since late October Christmas had been on my mind. I was apprehensive about it. I thought it might be the event that finally pushed me to feel properly homesick. I was expecting to feel sad. As it got to mid-December I had stopped thinking about it so much, being preoccupied with navigating Kazakhstan and all of the new experiences. I had several options on where to stay for Christmas and I was struggling to decide what I wanted to do - staying with a host through the facebook page ‘Host a Sister’ (a really lovely community of female travellers), a host through couchsurfing, or a hostel. After talking it through with a friend over the phone I realised what I wanted - to have my own space to have the Christmas I wanted, so a hostel it was!

Kazakhstan doesn’t celebrate Christmas. The majority religion is Islam, followed by Orthodox Christianity (which celebrates Christmas on the 7th January). As in all post-Soviet countries, any Christmas celebrations were crushed and the focus was moved to New Year instead. Despite this, there were a huge number of Christmas decorations around the city, including several Christmas trees (dubbed ‘New Year’s trees’).

Christmas Eve

A day of preparations! I did a Christmas food shop and treated myself to all sorts of goodies like lobster flavoured crisps and Ferrero Rocher. But my main mission was buying ingredients for a dessert. I had moved into a hostel this morning and it didn’t have an oven, only hobs, so my original plan of making brownies was scrapped and replaced with rocky roads. Back at the hostel I listened to Christmas music as I baked, having a wonderful time. The Irish couple I’d met back in Georgia were also in Almaty for Christmas and we had arranged to meet for a Christmas Eve dinner, deciding on a highly rated Indian restaurant. It was really lovely to catch up with them and compare our Kazakh experiences, and the Indian food was delicious. We spoke about what we’d usually be doing on Christmas Eve, and how we felt about spending it away from home. We met up with some others from my hostel for a pint at a bar and I was finally starting to feel a little bit Christmassy.

Christmas Day

I woke up in my hostel dorm bed and smiled to myself - what an odd place to spend Christmas. I didn’t feel very Christmassy, but I didn’t feel sad so that’s something. I did some yoga in the common space, with the hostel kitten joining in providing a very cute start to the day. I went for a snowy walk in the park nearby, listening to more Christmas music, and then to a nice cafe for a coffee and pistachio croissant for breakfast. At home we always have croissants for breakfast at Christmas, so it was a nod to that tradition. It was strange to not wish the barista ‘Merry Christmas!’ and for her to not wish it to me. I read my book and journaled whilst I savoured my coffee, feeling really thankful for the opportunity to create a lovely Christmas day for myself. As I got up to leave the cafe, the barista placed a drawing of me on my table. It brought some Christmas magic to the day, and brought a huge smile to my face. I slipped the picture into my bag and strolled out onto the snowy streets feeling excited for the rest of the day. Back at the hostel I took my time getting dressed up like I usually would on Christmas day. Through a very tangential link, I had been put in contact with someone who was studying a masters in Almaty, and she had invited me along to her friends’ Christmas lunch. It was really wonderful and a whole lot of fun. It was a big group of masters and PhD students (and one erasmus student from Oxford, you can never truly escape it seems!) from the UK, Ireland and the US. Tara (the host) cooked up an amazing meal: beef wellington, roast potatoes, stuffing, gravy, the lot! We polished off numerous bottles of Soviet champagne and wine. My rocky roads went down a treat, alongside a huge spread of other desserts. The party continued until midnight and whilst it lacked trivial pursuit and cold turkey sandwiches, it was a very pleasant way to spend Christmas day and I was shocked at my luck to have found this group of people! Back at the hostel, I had a quick call with my family (them being 6 hours behind meant they were still enjoying their Christmas evening) and it was lovely to at least virtually see their faces.

It was a Christmas day of two halves. The first half I spent alone, really enjoying spending the day in my own company and appreciating the unusual slow and quietness of the day. The second half I spent surrounded by new friends, celebrating in the usual way. It was the most perfect Christmas Day away from home, and I feel so lucky it turned out that way! Just more proof that everything really does work out in the end.

Boxing Day

It turns out that Christmas lunch was the just beginning of lots of adventures with this new group of people. I woke up the earliest I have ever woken up on Boxing day ready to meet some of them for a day of skiing at the nearby ski resort - Shymbulak. It’s only a 30 minute bus ride from the city which is so cool. We arrived at 9am and hired all of the kit, catching the gondola up to the resort. What followed was a full day of amazing fun. I’d never skied before so the day also included a lot of falling over for me, but that didn’t detract from the fun for a second. Even when I was being dragged along by one leg by one of the strange ski lifts, unable to unhook myself for quite some distance… The weather was ideal, bright sun and blue sky. As much as I love the traditional Boxing Day walk back at home, I might have to say that this was an even better way to spend the day! Exhausted from the full day on the slopes, we went out to a Georgian restaurant for dinner and the familiarity of the food brought back so many fond memories. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. It was one of the best days of my trip.

New year’s eve

Fast forward a week and it’s New Year’s Eve! I’m still in Almaty, having being persuaded to stay by the lovely people from Christmas. I was staying with Oksana (thank you again!) and she decided to host a Russian NYE feast. I’ve been missing cooking so I was very happy to help. The entire afternoon was spent boiling every vegetable imaginable, then chopping them up, the basics of all Russian cooking it seems. Everyone seemed to enjoy the food so I’d say it was a success, and the Irish couple also joined which was great! At midnight we watched the Kazakh countdown and did both the Spanish (one of the guests was Spanish) and Russian traditions, making it a very stressful last 12 seconds of 2022. The Spanish tradition is to eat one grape for each of the last 12 seconds, and the Russian is to write a wish on a piece of paper (if you have very keen eyes you might be able to make out mine and Teresa’s wishes from the photo), burn it at midnight and place the burning paper into your champagne and drink the ashes. We forgot to factor in the fact that we were drinking from plastic cups however, so it was a bit of a disaster… But we made it to the new year - so happy 2023 everyone! We went out to a nightclub and were shocked to find it had snowed heavily whilst we’d been eating, so there was now around 20cm of snow on the ground. It was beautiful. We marched through this to the club, and I had my first taste of Kazakh clubbing. It’s the same as clubbing anywhere else, but with more russian music.

I can’t believe it’s 2023. The year I start my job as a lawyer (finally!). But that’s still 8 months away, with a lot more travelling in between. I didn’t think about making any New Year’s resolutions this year, but as I write this I think I will make one. To be more present. To appreciate each day and not worry about the next. I can feel the time flying by and I know I’ll be flying back to England before I know it, so I really want to enjoy the time I have left travelling whilst I’m out here! Something about the holidays has made me want to be extra mushy and say that I’m so thankful for all of my friends (old and new) and the effort they have put into staying in contact. Being away from them has made me appreciate all of them so much. I hope all of them have an amazing 2023 and I can’t wait to see everyone again this year!

No one is more surprised than me that I didn’t feel homesick over the Christmas period! I guess having no expectations about how the day would go, and being happy to just make it a nice day spent alone, might have helped. However, waking up hungover on New Year’s day did see me a tad homesick. My family were in Cornwall, swimming in the sea and walking along empty windy beaches - my absolute favourite thing to do in the winter. I wanted to be doing it with them. I missed getting soaked and cold and sheltering in a pub, drinking a pint of ale, eating a packet of crisps, and defrosting by the open fire. I missed hurrying around seeing friends before we all went our separate ways again. Once my hangover had worn off a bit, and I’d done some yoga and gone for a snowy walk and drank a nice coffee, I’m happy to say the homesickness had vanished. I’m glad I had one morning with its presence. It means the return back home in 7 months’ time won’t be all sad!

Impressions of Kazakhstan

The people
Kazakh people are without a doubt the most friendly, happy and kind people I’ve met so far. People walk around smiling. People will go above and beyond to help you, and in a way where you never feel like they have an ulterior motive. I would return to Kazakhstan just to spend more time with Kazakh people.

The scenery
Not quite as desolate as I thought! The steppe is enormous in it’s bleakness, and this is something you really appreciate when travelling across it by train. But beyond the steppe there are a lot of natural features. There are pine forests, mountains, lakes, canyons. It would be worth visiting in spring to see the tulip fields, the rare birds and the greenness of it all.

The food
One word: oily. Everything is so oily here, and it did not sit well with my stomach. Ever since the disastrous experience in Albania my stomach hasn’t been quite right (a whole lot of bloating, fun) but Kazakhstan is the first time I’ve had more serious issues… Even the rice here is oily! Meals are basically meat (sometimes horse) with rice or broth or dumplings. Not a big fan. In Almaty there is a lot of Uighur cuisine, such as laghman (a noodle based dish), and also Korean cuisine. But I won’t lie, I thoroughly enjoyed the international cuisine on offer in Almaty!

The vibe
I’m so baffled by Kazakhstan. It seems to have lost its identity, making it impossible to get a clear impression from it in a short time. I couldn’t sum it up in one sentence, and I wouldn’t even know where to start in trying to describe it. It’s not the easiest country to visit. Hardly anyone speaks english, it lacks tourism infrastructure, it’s cold. To the ordinary person I’m not sure I would recommend visiting. Beyond the wonderful people, it doesn’t really have any other draws.
The religion aspect is interesting in Kazakhstan. It’s a muslim country in the same way that the UK is a christian country - in name and general belief but not really in practice. Women do not cover their hair, people drink and smoke, people do not go to mosque. But pork isn’t eaten and muslim holidays are observed. It was really refreshing to experience a relaxed muslim country, especially after the impressions I got from the very strict muslim areas of Turkey. But part of the reason for this relaxed approach isn’t pleasant of course, with it being from the ban of religion under the Soviet Union.

The cold
After the fear people were giving me, I was almost annoyed at how fine the cold was here. The coldest it got for me was -15 degrees, but this was first thing in the morning and it had warmed up to -9 by the time I was out and about. Even at the minus temperatures it was totally fine! The cold is a dry cold, which is different from England’s wet cold I’ve discovered. Yes it is a lot colder, and you can feel that when you’re outside, but it doesn’t make you as cold as when in England. The coldness doesn’t seep into your bones in the same way. I’d be quite toasty warm even after hours outside, but any exposed body part would really feel the cold. My eyelashes would feel icey against my face as I blinked. Breathing in, you could feel how cold the air was in your lungs. But it was perfectly manageable!

My time in Kazakhstan

I flew from Tbilisi to Aktau on the 13th December. I knew I wanted to spend Christmas in Almaty so that gave me around 10 days to travel across the entire width of Kazakhstan. I decided not to venture up to the north, mainly because the only thing up there is Astana which doesn’t seem like anything special and it’s -30 degrees celsius. Here’s how I chose to spend those 10 days instead.

Route:

1. Flew into Aktau. One night here.
2. Overnight train to Aralsk. One night here.
3. Overnight train to Turkistan. Two nights here.
4. Marshrutka to Shymkent. Two nights here.
5. Marshrutka and taxi to Aksu-Zhabagly national park. One night here.
6. Overnight train from Shymkent to Almaty.
7. A day trip to Kolsai lake and Charyn Canyon.
8. A long stay in Almaty!

Aktau
This is the town I should’ve arrived into by boat from Azerbaijan. Instead, I arrived at 3am after my flight was delayed by 6 hours (!!!). Just another reason not to fly. I had one day to spend here before my overnight train to Aralsk. The town was quite nondescript so I walked down to the shoreline of the Caspian sea. It was surprisingly beautiful. There was ice all over the rocks and the water was clear. I strolled along the newly built boardwalk and enjoyed how happy all of the other boardwalk users were. I went down to one little beach and had a paddle, in homage to the Caspian sea that I should have sailed across, and because I knew I wouldn’t be near the sea again for months. I wished I’d brought my swimming stuff, but after having my feet in the water for a few minutes I was slightly glad I didn’t…

Aralsk
There’s already a full blog post on my time in Aralsk so check that out to read about the Aral Sea and the delightful brothel I stayed in.

Turkistan
What a weird city. After the dump that was Aralsk it was a huge shock to walk around this ultra modern and well maintained city centre. There was a huge shopping complex complete with a lake and boat water feature, an 8D cinema inside of a golden egg, and hidden speakers playing upbeat turkish sounding music. It was also completely empty. Most of the shop fronts were empty and there was hardly anyone around, giving it a ghostly feel. Across the flat, open centre was the reason I’d come to Turkistan, the Mausoleum of Khoja Ahmed Yasawi. It was my first taste of Silk Road architecture and it was beautiful. I loved the plainness of the front with its cement looking wall and beams of wood protruding from the arch. The bright blue mosaics covering the other three sides were of course breathtaking. And the dome, only visible when you were further away from it, was a delightful surprise. The inside was less exciting. I spent most of my two days here sitting in the sun and reading my book, always with a view of the Mausoleum. I remembered I had a tripod with me and put it to good use, having a bit too much fun taking some photos with the mosaic as a backdrop. I had a nice interaction with two young waitresses in one restaurant, who were very excited that I was from England and travelling alone as a woman. A third waitress jumped in front of me as I was leaving, blocking the exit and almost tackling me in doing so, so she could also speak to me and shake my hand!

Shymkent
Shymkent provided the in between vibe of Aralsk and Turkistan. It was a city but it was a bit of a dump too. I stayed with a lovely lady and her family from couchsurfing, enjoying homemade Kazakh cooking (meat and rice, or meat in broth… I miss Georgian food). I didn’t like Shymkent. I visited the botanical gardens, the ‘old’ town (it’s been renovated to give it a fake disneyland vibe, similar to the strange shopping centre in Turkistan), the soviet occupation museum (nothing in english) and just wandered around. There’s a strange mixture of modern areas, soviet monuments, and dirt roads with dilapidated buildings.

Aksu-Zhabagley national park
From Shymkent I somehow managed to get myself to the Aksu-Zhabagley national park. I contacted a guesthouse in the town of Zhabagley and the owner gave me very detailed and helpful instructions on how to get there. But of course it wasn’t as simple as it seemed. I got a taxi to the marshrutka station but it became apparent that there was not a marshrutka going to where I needed to go. Luckily, everyone was very keen to help me! One man drove me, for free, to a place where I could get a shared taxi to where I needed to go, and he arranged a place for me. The shared taxi cost 1000 tenge (£1.80 - so cheap!) and it took 1.5 hours to reach village number one (Vannovka). After asking around I eventually found the next shared taxi to Zhabagley, my final destination. Both cars were dumps and I’m surprised we made it but I did! I didn’t arrive until 12pm and it was too late to do my planned activity for the national park, so the owner organised it for tomorrow instead and I spent the rest of the day curled up on the guesthouse sofa doing some travel planning and reading, watching the snow fall outside. The owner of the guesthouse was very interesting. He was a Ukrainian biologist specialising in birds and was a scientist during the Soviet Union. He was sent to Turkmenistan to study waterfall birds and remained there for most of his life. He said being a scientist in the Soviet Union was pretty good - he was paid well, there was good collaboration between the Soviet states, and he got to go to interesting conferences held across the Soviet Union. He showed me a lot of photos he’d taken of birds, and his photography set up in the garden, complete with a camouflage tent.

My planned activity was, very excitingly, a horse trek. The guide brought the horses to the guesthouse and we set off a bit past 10am. It was just the two of us which was a very peaceful experience. The trek began with a boring stretch of road into the national park, but once inside it was stunning. We were trekking along little paths covered in snow. We went over little rivers, and through big snow drifts (this was my favourite part). We had all of the weather - snow falling with grey sky, everywhere white and grey; blue sky and sun brightening up the white landscape; and everything in between. We trekked until about 1pm, stopping at a little house. We gave the horses some lunch and walked on foot a short distance to a viewpoint of a waterfall. The water appeared and disappeared behind an ice wall. The scenery was stunning and the atmosphere was so peaceful. We ate lunch in the little house (cold pasta and peppers and sausage, bread, and gross chocolate. Washed down with tea). I took my boots off and rubbed my toes to get some feeling back in them. After several hours in the cold I was surprised that they were the only part of me that was cold! But they were very very cold. We trekked back the same way. Thankfully the view of the mountains surrounding us, the valley on one side, the hills we passed over, and the bushes covered in snow meant the scenery could never be boring. We took a short cut to skip some of the road when we were almost back, crossing through thick snow in a field instead. At 4:30pm we arrived back, I was shocked that so much time had passed, it had gone so quickly! I patted the horse goodbye and, with my completely numb and freezing feet, waddled inside to warm up.

Almaty
Almaty provided a breath of normality. After my interesting night in the anti-war Russian shelter (see my train blog post for details) I spent a few nights in a hostel where there were other travellers! I spent Christmas and New year’s here, but there’s a separate post on that. The city of Almaty felt much like a normal city - big streets, lots of shops and restaurants, lots of parks. I did very normal things here - went out for coffee and pints with people, went to people’s houses to watch a film with a takeaway, did some baking. I also did less normal things, taking advantage of the opportunities that winter in Almaty offered, like ice skating on the biggest, highest ice rink in the world. Whilst I was disappointed to discover my rollerskating skills did not translate onto ice, I was very happy to see the mountain backdrop of the huge Soviet ice rink. I also tried out skiing for the first time at the nearby ski resort, Shymbulak, which is only a 30 minute bus ride away from the city. As a much cheaper alternative to European skiing (the day pass cost £20) it was the perfect place for me to try it out. I enjoyed it even more than I thought I would! The whole experience was wonderful and I went a second time before I left, even managing a proper slope. After my initial time at the hostel, I moved to staying with the friends I made at Christmas which was so lovely. As they were a group of masters students, I really felt like I was back in London as a student. They were all styding post-soviet studies, which was ideal for me, meaning I finally found people who were as interested in talking about the USSR as I am (perhaps even more so)! It provided a little bit of contrast to travelling and was really quite nice. I’ve had the most amazing time with this new group of people, and want to give a shoutout to Teresa, Lucie, Oksana, Tara and Ari for making it so amazing (and also the guys!).

Almaty provides a great base for exploring the surrounding area too, allowing me to go even further east to Kolsai lake and Charyn Canyon. I did this on a day trip with a local tour company. The lake was frozen over and we could walk on it, going to see the ice fisherman. We stopped at several different points along the canyon and it was quite pretty, but it didn’t blow my mind too much. I definitely preferred the lake, and also the drive to the lake which was across the steppe, with snowy mountains acting as a boundary around it.

I had one more interesting experience in Almaty, which was going to speak at a Kazakh school. A guy contacted me through couchsurfing asking if I would come and speak to his students and I agreed. I was picked up in a taxi and driven 45 minutes outside of the city to a small village. I spent two hours with around 10 students ranging from 13 - 17 years old and it was a very casual conversation style talk. I introduced myself and then answered their questions on a huge variety of topics. They asked me about England, about travelling, about university, about my impressions of Kazakhstan. They asked me about the gender differences and dating in England, about my views on bride kidnapping in Kyrgyzstan, about the Russian-Ukrainian war. I asked them about their relationship with the Kazakh language, about how they view Kazakhstan, and how they feel about me only speaking one language. It was an enriching experience for all of us! They gave me some Kazakh food to try, including both horse and camel milk. Both were terrible, but the horse milk was definitely worse. They also gave me a gift of a traditional Kazakh hat which was very lovely!

Please let me book a train

The first hurdle to using Kazakh trains was trying to book one. This proved unbelievably difficult. But this is what travelling is about, having to expend a huge amount of time and energy and problem solving ability to do a seemingly simple task. And I kind of love it. So the train ticket fiasco. All of the travel blogs gave me huge optimism, you could book online using a website with a great english interface! I agreed, the interface was great, but it kept declining my card. I tried all 5 of my bank cards (yes I’m slightly over-prepared on that front, but the number of people I’ve met who’ve lost their one and only bank card makes me feel like it’s justified) and all were declined. I got out my russian google translate skills and started the most painful whatsapp conversation with the customer service number. After a week of back and forth they eventually informed me that the website doesn’t support foreign cards. Giving up on this website I turned to the Kazakhstan official train website. It had an english option but when I searched for the train I wanted (and knew existed from the other website) it drew a blank. After some more googling I saw that although the website is in english, you still had to search in russian. Back to google translate, but still no results! I was losing the will to live at this point. I couldn’t even moan to anyone because this was during the silent retreat… Then I remembered that in the nice english website the train station that came up when I searched the place name wasn’t the same as the place name itself. More googling and I realised that lots of train stations in Kazakhstan do not have the same name as the place, but instead have kept the original soviet name the place used to be called, or something completely different. Finally an answer - I had to research the old name of the towns and translate this to russian then bingo! At last the train came up and I was able to book it. Now I’m building a bank of Kazakh train station names in russian so if anyone needs these you know who to contact.

Now for supplies

After continuing my train research I saw that the older style soviet trains did not have a dining car or any food available on board. What they did have was a samovar which dispensed hot water. Everyone therefore recommended bringing along a bowl and mug, and instant noodles and tea etc. After a big hunt in Tbilisi I was able to find the perfect bowl/mug hybrid (a big coffee cup style thing) and a stole a spoon from the hostel (don’t tell anyone). I bought instant noodles and instant porridge and tea. I was feeling very prepared!

Train 1: Modern high-speed train (Talgo)

My first train was of the modern high-speed variety, a Talgo. I bought the cheapest ticket which was a bed in a 4-bed cabin. The train was very quiet so I had the entire cabin to myself which was wonderful! I settled in for a peaceful evening of writing, reading, watching netflix on my phone and enjoying my instant noodles. On exploring the train I found this one did have a dining cart, and a rather fancy one at that! It also had cold water as well as hot. In the morning I even had enough space in my little cabin to do some stretches before enjoying my porridge. I felt a bit motion sick in the evening, but other than that it was a very enjoyable ride.

Journey: From Aktau to Aralsk
Time: 18 hours

Train 2: Soviet style

My second train was of the older, slower, soviet variety. I again bought the cheapest ticket, this time a bed in a 40-bed carriage. When I stepped on the train I was hit by a wall of chicken smelling steam, and a grease film immediately formed over my entire body. Ventilation was definitely lacking. At least it was warm. But a bit too warm for my liking! As I ‘excused me’ down the narrow space between beds, hitting bare feet with my rucksack with each step, I felt the eyes on me. When I reached my bed I smiled at the man in the top bunk next to mine, and he looked curiously at me, before breaking into a smile and being insanely friendly and helpful. He helped me put my bag up on the shelf above my top bunk, and with all of my other questions (where did I get the sheets etc). Soon enough our bunk mates had returned and suddenly we were all being introduced. So many smiles! Word travelled down the carriage that I was a tourist and lots of other men came to say hello (it seemed to be 99% men on this train). I felt so looked after. The men snuck me some of their contraband beer, with us hiding it after every sip. They gave me their sandals to wear as I walked along the train to get hot water or go to the toilet. They offered me some of their chewing tobacco. When we stopped for longer at one station they took me outside with them to smoke. They laughed at my amazement of a coal cart being used to top up the coal on the train, used to heat the carriages. We spoke over google translate and gestures, and they asked me all sorts of questions. From if I was married, about my family, if I was an MI6 agent… The usual stuff! I asked them about their main language (Kazakh and not russian), their religion (muslim) and make up of Kazakhstan (Turkish and Mongolian history). They all wanted photos with me, to prove to their families that they really had met an english girl on the train. It was all very entertaining! And took my mind off of the horrible conditions of the train. The grease layer had become several layers at this point. When I finally got into my top bunk (with a leg up from one of the men) I realised I couldn’t sit up in it, so had to slide myself into a sleeping position. I slept very badly. Unsurprising with the intense heat and the grease, the man playing candy crush on loud next to me, the chorus of men snoring in the carriage, the occasional opening of the window by my head which provided much needed fresh air but also froze my scalp giving the strangest sensation of wind brain freeze whilst the rest of me sweated. When my alarm went off in the morning I welcomed it. I bid goodbye to my new friends and clambered back down the tiny corridor and off the train.

Journey: Aralsk to Turkistan
Time: 14 hours

Train 3: Soviet again! But slightly more modern

This more modern soviet train had cabins rather than an open carriage filled with beds. I chose the cheapest ticket of course, and this provided a bed in a 6-bed cabin. How do they fit 6 beds in a cabin you ask? Triple bunks! I was on the middle bunk which was a new experience after all of my top and bottom bunk sleeps in the hundreds of hostels I’ve now stayed in. The conditions were much more pleasant than on the last train. A normal temperature, no chicken grease in the air. My cabin mates were two Russians, one of which was an english translator (how lucky!), and a Kazakh guy. A Kazakh woman joined us later on after spending most of her time in the train bar, so she was quite drunk. We spoke until late into the night, with the usual questions and surprise over my trip. I tried lots more Kazakh snacks, including Kazakh chocolate, and it was a really pleasant night. I also slept really well. The two Russians were travelling to Almaty to do a visa run, planning to nip across the border to Kyrgyzstan then return back to Kazakhstan. They were going to stay at a house in Almaty which was a shelter for anti-war Russians, providing them with free accommodation and a safe space. They invited me to join them, after checking it was allowed with the administrator of the shelter, and I accepted thinking it would be a very interesting experience.

Journey: Shymkent to Almaty
Time: 15 hours

My stay in a shelter for anti-war Russians

We arrived at the big house with tight security and were given a tour. Upstairs there were several rooms with lots of airbeds set up. Downstairs there was a large dining room and kitchen, and another large lounge room. There were 24 people staying there, including some children. Everyone was Russian (obviously) and was very confused at what I was doing there (also unsurprising). Not many people spoke English so I felt a bit awkward at first. But once word spread that there was an english person in the kitchen, the people that spoke english appeared! And everyone was very friendly and lovely, they made me lunch and we chatted all afternoon and evening about the situation in Russia and the war. I learnt so much and felt so privileged for being able to travel at this time. The people here varied in age, but I was surprised at how many were my age or younger. One of the people who spoke english was Nastia, a 20 year old girl from Moscow. She had left Russia after being arrested and tortured for taking part in an anti-war walk (they don’t refer to them as protests). There’s a BBC documentary on her and the other women involved called Finding My Torturer. The situation in Russia currently is of course insane, and it was very interesting to hear these people’s views on it. My opinion on the Russian invasion of Ukraine is uncomplicated - it is completely wrong and there are no excuses or good reasons for it. My opinion on Russian people is more complicated, but the conversations I had here made me have even less sympathy for neutral or pro-war Russian people who have left Russia.

I only stayed here for one night, deciding to move to a hostel in the city centre for Christmas Eve and Christmas.

As I journey from the very West to the very East of the enormous country that is Kazakhstan, I made my first stop in an old harbour town on the Aral Sea. This name might be familiar to you from a geography lesson back in your youth. It’s the lake in the middle of Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan which almost completely dried up in one of the world’s worst man made environmental disasters.

What happened to the Aral Sea?

The Aral Sea was the fourth largest lake in the world. Under Stalin’s five-year plans, the two major rivers which fed the Aral Sea were diverted for irrigation for cotton farming. The Soviet plan was to make Central Asia the biggest producer of cotton in the world, which Uzbekistan became in 1988. Experts foresaw that doing this would cause the Aral Sea to disappear, but none wanted to speak against the plans. As expected, in the 1960s the two rivers dried up before reaching the Aral Sea, meaning the water it lost to evaporation as part of the natural water-cycle was not replenished. It was reduced to 10% of its original size.

The consequences of this:

1. As the water evaporated, the salt and mineral content of the sea increased and as did the concentration of pesticides and herbicides. It became toxic and the fish all died. The fishing industry was destroyed and unemployment increased drastically.
2. The reduction of the lake made the local climate harsher, resulting in hotter summers and colder winters.
3. The people who remained in the area started to have severe health issues as the salt and toxic chemicals from pesticide and fertiliser run off, and from weapons testing, left on the seabed were blown into the air by wind. The rate of children born with abnormalities is 5 times higher than in European countries. When I visited I had an awful headache and sinus pain after walking around all day. Obviously I don’t know if it was caused by the air pollution here, but it’s a coincidence at least.

There is some restoration work happening which is having some success. For example the Dike Kokaral Dam on the Kazakhstan side.

My experience

I walked a short distance from the town to explore the sea bed. It was immense in its desolation. It looked like a wasteland. The only hints that something else once filled the area were the salty smell of the air and, if you looked closely, the shells covering the ground. I reached the mouth of the old harbour, and the wreckage of a barge. Only the very bottom was left and it was filled with frozen water and rubbish. Behind it I could see the old cranes that used to work in the fishing port, still standing on the edge of the past water line. In the other direction there was nothing. A deeper channel, I assume where boats would enter the harbour broke up the otherwise homogenous landscape. It was frozen so there must’ve been some water left there. I walked along the channel, my face covered with my snood to fight against the smell as much as the cold. I spotted a herd of camels roaming around. I was so excited to visit here, but the excitement had died down. It was just sad. To think about this huge area once being a sea, filled with fish and life. To think about the human actions that directly, and knowingly, led to its demise. To think about this happening elsewhere in the world due to climate change. Looking back at the town, it was sad to think about its fate. It was once a prosperous fishing town. Now it had nothing. Most people had left when the fishing industry collapsed. The ones that are still here face all of the awful health issues I mentioned above. I’m really glad I came to visit. It’s something that will stick with me forever. The power that humans have over our natural environment and the lives of others.

Beyond the dried up sea Aralsk didn’t have much to offer. There was a museum, but it was closed. The town wasn’t quite as awful as I’d prepared myself for. The houses were all one storey and shabby but they were colourful. Most of the roads were dirt but it was very clean, no litter. In the train station there was a soviet mosaic which excited my soviet-history side. It depicted the fisherman of Aralsk coming to the rescue on Lenin’s orders and sending fish north to save the famished Soviet Union. What a lovely thing the soviets did to repay them, drying up the lake like they did.

I didn’t have many interactions with locals during my short stay here. I really wish I spoke russian so I could’ve attempted to ask them about their thoughts on it all. The only interactions I did have were locals stopping in their cars as I walked along the dried up harbour to (I assume from the gestures) ask what on earth I was doing, and to offer me a lift if I needed it. I replied with gestures that I hoped communicated ‘just looking around’ and ‘taking photos’ and they seemed quite bemused.

Logistics

It was very easy to get to Aralsk, the old harbour town and the main place to visit the Aral Sea in Kazakhstan. I caught a high-speed, 18 hour night train from Aktau. Before arriving here I’d emailed a man called Serik about it, as I found his email online as a helpful contact in the area. He told me that there was a hotel near the train station that I didn’t need to book in advance and offered me a tour of the Aral Sea. The tour was way too expensive for me (around £150 for the day) so I turned him down, planning to explore alone instead. When I got off the train I spotted the hotel he mentioned, but it was closed. Luckily there was one right opposite so I went over and asked about a room. The lady behind reception didn’t speak english but with google translate she quoted me the price for one day. I nodded in agreement, saying yep just one night. She looked confused and asked when I’d be leaving. I replied with tomorrow’s date and she went ‘ah’ overnight, and quoted me a different price. It was still cheap so I agreed, wondering why on earth I’d only want the room during the day. Then it dawned on me - brothel. I had seen in some hotel reviews here that people had experienced the same. Never mind, the room was fine, very spacious but not very clean. I was happy I had my sleeping bag to use! In the evening my suspicions deepened as there was a lot of activity in the hallway, lots of footsteps coming up the stairs and knocks on doors. On one occasion someone tried to enter my room but I just ignored it. I can’t say I felt very happy there but I slept fine and it was only for one night. The restaurants weren’t plentiful but the one I ate in was fine, food was cheap and fairly tasty. The toilet was horrendous however. Definitely not the nicest place to visit, but I didn’t think it would be!

It’s finally time to cross into the ‘stans and I thought I’d catch you up on how the planning for that has gone. Lots of people have been asking me how I feel about it, so I’ve touched on that too.

Contents:

1. How to get from Georgia to Kazakhstan?
2. The cold
3. Nerves

“You can only by plane” “Border is closed. Only flights” :(((

After deciding I wouldn’t stay in Gomarduli for Christmas it was time to prepare for the ‘stans. The first step was working out how I’d get there. My original plan was to cross into Azerbaijan and take the cargo ship which accepts passengers from Baku to Aktau, Kazakhstan. The big problem was that Azerbaijan still hadn’t opened their land borders, and it didn’t look like they would anytime soon. This meant I was going to have to fly, at least from Georgia to Azerbaijan (so annoying!!!). The big question was whether the land borders being shut affected the cargo ship. I want to illustrate how hard I tried to find this information out: I contacted a total of 18 people/shipping companies/embassies/hostels in Baku to try and get an answer. I pestered 6 contacts on whatsapp; 6 contacts via email; 3 contacts via social media pages; and I posted on 3 reddit and facebook pages. I trawled through hours of blogs and forums. Did I get a clear answer? No. (The title of this section is two quotes from more definitive replies.) From my in depth research my conclusion is that it was possible to cross up until October/November but then they stopped it again, requiring ‘Special State Permission’ which isn’t really possible to get (I couldn’t find even find out where to get it from)! By the end of my hopeless search, I realised a flight directly from Tbilisi to Aktau (where the ship would’ve docked) was actually shorter than a flight from Tbilisi to Baku, and it was cheaper. So I resigned my quest and booked the flight to Aktau. I was disappointed, the cargo ship crossing was one of the things I was most excited about and I was looking forward to the challenge it presented. That’s why I spent so long looking into it, not wanting to give up on the idea. But that’s life, things out of our control happen and there’s nothing we can do about it (I’m looking at you Azerbaijan). And some positives came out of it - I got to visit Armenia and realise I don’t like it, I got to spend longer in Georgia, I didn’t have to visit Azerbaijan. So my overland journey ended sooner than I hoped, but having got to Kazakhstan having only flown for 1 hour is still pretty cool. And maybe I won’t have to fly again… (yeah I’m not too hopeful either, looking at you Afghanistan and Myanmar).

Preparing for the cold

“I’m off to Kazakhstan next”. Look of concern from them. “That’s going to be cold!”. People were starting to freak me out about just how cold it was going to be. One guy warned me to check my shoes for any leaks because if water gets in it would freeze and give me frostbite. I was panicked. Especially because I wasn’t very prepared, I still didn’t have any proper gloves! I should’ve had my parents bring me some from England, like my Dad suggested, but I’d been so sure I would easily find some in Georgia. My Dad was right, like Dads often are, when he doubted this. I hunted all of Tbilisi for a pair of proper mittens and found only giant men’s ones or tiny children’s ones. In a moment of exasperation I did ask one shop assistant if he thought women didn’t have hands when he told me they didn’t stock women’s gloves. Eventually, on my last morning in Tbilisi, I found a pair of junior mittens which just about fitted my hands. Not perfect, but close. I’d hate to know how much time I’ve spent trying to find gloves. I’d managed to find thermal leggings and tights over the last few months, and I found a snood (or buff) and a balaclava in Tbilisi. I felt as prepared as I was going to get for the cold! Where I currently am in Kazakhstan it’s -6 degrees in the day and I’ve been toasty warm in all of my layers. It was -15 in Almaty last week but it seems to be warming up there so hopefully it’ll all be fine… I think the lowest I’ll experience is -20!

Okay, but how do you feel about going to the ‘stans?

I’ve been travelling for over 7 months now, and I’m comfortable and confident when doing it. But there’s something different about heading to places that no one seems to visit. I know I’ll survive and make it through, but I don’t know how enjoyable it will be. That makes me nervous. I’m nervous about the cold, about the language (and alphabet) barrier, about the completely unknown culture, about the lack of other travellers, about actually travelling alone. I know this is completely normal. It’s normal to want easy, enjoyable experiences and to be apprehensive about the opposite. But I’m also really excited about all of the same things. I set out wanting a challenge, wanting to push myself and see exactly how strong and independent I really am. This is where I find that out. And the harder it is, the better in a way. Being nervous about the challenge isn’t a bad thing, because the challenge and the nerves are what this part of the trip is about! So I’m okay - nervous and excited. Ready for the challenge and intrigued to see what this part of the world is like.