I was a little nervous about my trip to Shortandy because it was my first train voyage alone. I have run into about every permutation of Kazakh train interaction thus far so I was pretty sure I could handle anything that came up. I was also excited because I was going to be travelling through Astana (the capital) for the first time and venturing north (having only travelled in south and central Kazakhstan). My train ride from Zhez to Karaganda was the normal 14 hour night ride that I have grown accustomed to. I was actually in a platzcart area with a student from my school and a guy who wanted to practice his English so it was somewhat entertaining. I had a 6 hour layover in Karaganda that started at 8AM so I walked around the city trying to find a place to eat and chill out at for a few hours. After walking about 2 miles with my book bag and messenger bag and not finding any place that was open, I went to a Turkish place I had been to before to have some coffee and food. The menu was really limited at 9AM so all I could order was samsa (kinda like a meat and onion hot pocket). I dug into my samsa and the meat was really pink. I'm not talking rare here... more like still breathing.
Not wanting to give myself some kind of horrible stomach problem for the last leg of my train ride, I scooped the meat out and ate the pastry and had a few cups of instant coffee before waiting out the rest of my layover at the train station. I was uber-alert at the station because I didn't want to miss my train (supposedly a Karaganda to Pavlodar train) but the train wasn't showing up on any of the alert boards so I stepped out onto the platform about 20 minutes before the train was scheduled to leave and asked one of the train ladies where the hell my train was. She pointed to a train that was a few tracks over and it turns out it was the Bishkek (Kyrgyzstan) to Archangelisk (Russia) train that I had actually been on when I went down to Merke a month or so ago. I'm glad I asked though, I never would have realized that was my train otherwise.
So I had a 7 hour train ride to Shortandy and met Jess at the station. We walked to her new apartment and the air was rife with the smell of cow patties. We spent a couple of days "preparing" for her cultural camp and went swimming in her river (later I learned said river was a popular dumping site for the local hospital and even the kids won't swim in it) so Yay Biohazards! Her camp came and went with two other volunteers showing up to help. I did my old tried and true Ireland presentation and ate vegetarian food for a week since Jess is a vegetarian. It wasn't bad, but I was craving meat by the end of the camp.
Jess and Girl Jamie were going to travel from Shortandy to Zhezkazgan to do a version of the same camp in my city, but we got to spend a few hours in Astana before the train left. I got to see some of the city, my friend Kairat who moved to Astana from Zhez, and we also got to eat at a TGI Fridays! Now I'm not sure how a TGI Fridays wound up in Astana. I don't know who makes the decisions about what kind of culture America get to export, but after one bite of a bacon cheeseburger I stopped asking questions. When the server asked what temperature I wanted my burger I actually laughed at her. Not only does no one ever ask about meal preferences, I had actually forgotten how I like my burger. I got medium, but it was a little rarer than that (no complaints). We even got an honest-to-God appetizer sampler complete with potato skins, friend mozzarella, and hot wings. The meal was ridiculously expensive by Peace Corps standards (like 30 dollars a person) but worth every tenge.
We made it to the train and got to Karaganda, but there were no tickets left to Zhezkazgan so we had to buy bus tickets. I went to the ticket window and people were milling about forcing their way to the front. There are no lines in Kazakhstan, just people in a disorganized mass forcing their way to the front. I have no idea how a society can function without the order that lines provide, but I've learned to just accept it and adapt. So I snuck up along the side of the group and forced/elbowed my way to the front. Some people yelled at me, but that's par for the course and I got my tickets in about 10 minutes. Now 8 months ago I probably would have been standing there until the window closed, but this is the new pugnacious, scrappy Drew. No longer am I restricted by things like an unwillingness to cut in line or elbow and elderly woman in the face. Your shouts will not daunt me and your attempts to edge in front of me will be met with due vigilance and recourse.
The bus ride to Zhez suuuuuuuuuucked. I had taken a bus from Zhez to Karaganda once that was bad but only 8 hours. This one was for some reason 12 hours. I saw the sun set and rise over the steppe that day. We got to Zhez at about 5AM and promptly went to Man Jamie's new apartment and crashed. Eventually Leah showed up too and we had a fun week of good food, bowling (Girl Jamie kicked ass), and culture camp/ultimate frisbee camp (local kids love Ultimate). It was a blast, but I'm glad it's all over and I have a few days to relax until the real travel begins.
Also my sitemate Robert got the training position in Almaty for the new trainees. This is sad because he will be leaving in Aug now instead of Nov, but good because it means I will (hopefully) be moving into his apartment once I return from the States. Prepare yourself for weekly updates on culinary disasters and adventures in domesticity once I return from America.
Tonight promises bowling and drinks at our favorite hangout, Kros. I'll get back to you on that one.
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