Karaganda

It was a relatively short train from Astana to Karaganda, at least compared to the trains that I've been taking lately. It was only a five hour voyage, and it only cost around four dollars. When I got to Karaganda, I found that bus #43 went to Mira Blvd., which was only a few blocks away from my hostel, so I took the bus. But at first I was waiting at the wrong bus stop...it was a bus stop only for out-of-town buses. I figured this out after a couple of buses stopped there with placards indicating they were going to other cities. I walked down the road a few blocks to the next bus stop, and had success.


Karaganda's history is intertwined with two nain things: coal and gulags. Karaganda's economy has historically been dependent on coal mining, and I saw more than one monument around town that had some heroic figure(s) triumphantly displaying an enormous lump of coal to the sky. And to some extent, it is still dependent on coal, though the immediate area has been pretty mined out to near depletion. There are some serious environmental consequences from the coal mining. The former mine tunnels are filled with chemically laced water, and the ground around them is too unstable and polluted to build on. There are some sections of the city that had to be relocated because there were mine tunnels underneath that could collapse at any moment. And there are large bodies of water all around that look like lakes, but in reality they are collapsed mine tunnels, revealing the water in the tunnels that came to the surface after the tunnels collapsed.


And the second legacy of Karaganda is gulags. The Kazakhstan gulags were where many intellectuals from across the Soviet Union were sent for anti-Soviet activities, and many of them were forced to ply their professions in the camps, so scientists made many discoveries, doctors ran infirmaries, and engineers and architects designed many wonders that were built by laborers, all directed from behind barbed wire and shadowed by guards. Artists and musicians created their art; the artists were not allowed to sign their works so many of the paintings and sculptures are of unknown origin.



Despite these grim marks on their history, Karaganda is kind of a charming place with upbeat, friendly people. The first day, I mostly wandered around the vicinity of the main street, Buqar-Jyrau Avenue. It was cold, windy, and rainy, and sleet fell for a short while, but it switched back to rain. There was an immense monument to Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space, and many sights along the main avenue. There was a monument to Kazakh Independence, a big, sprawling Central Park with a long walking street adorned with glitz, an amusement park, and a lake in the middle.


I had been corresponding with Anastasia, who went by Nastya, who was an English teacher at a local school there. I had been introduced to her by my friend Pete in St. Petersburg, who was introduced to me by Dave in Missouri; they had all been English teachers at the same school there. Actually, I think I've met five people now in different corners of the world who taught at that school. Nastya set up dual adventures for me; a visit to Karlag, the headquarters of a vast forced labor camp that covered an immense part of the Kazakh SSR's territory in Soviet times, and an authentic Kazakh meal prepared by her mother-in-law. It was great meeting Nastya and her husband; it's always nice to have a connection in the cities I visit. Both of them were from Karaganda and knew a lot about the area.


The next day, I had planned to visit some parts of the city that I hadn't been to, but I came down with a violent stomach bug. I must have gotten a local bug from some food or water. So I started in my room and waited it out. Then I remembered I had some psyllium in my pack, so I started taking a small spoonful every few minutes or so, along with some baking soda in water to douse the sour stomach. Sure enough, the psyllium soaked up all the demons in my belly, and I was feeling much better. It was too bad I didn't make it out that day because the weather was mostly better.


But the next day I had to move on to Almaty. This time I walked to the train rather than taking the bus; it was about an hour's walk. Sometimes I don't feel like walking that far with my full pack (it weighs about 25 kilos), but sometimes I don't mind.


I stayed at: Gostinitsa Alians, Jambyl Street 43, кв 1-7, Karagandy, 100000, Kazakhstan, telephone +7 701 772 4466. This was a guesthouse rather than a hostel. I had my own room there, though it had three beds in it so I am unclear as to whether I booked the whole room or just a bed and nobody else showed up. But I'm fairly sure I booked the room; that's what it looked like in the online booking. Also, there was a huge Kazakh wedding there so it was packed over the weekend (the first two days I was there), so if the were more beds available, I'm sure they would have filled them. The rooms were very economical, about eight dollars a night, but lacking a lot of basic amenities. There was no toilet paper at all the first day I was there. I probably could have asked the front desk for some, but I had some in my pack, so I just used it. But toilet paper showed up in one of the bathrooms the next day, and I had to ask on the third day. Also, it got really cold in the room at night. It got down to near freezing at night, and there was no heat, so I had to get up in the middle of the night and put on thermal underwear and steal another blanket from one of the other beds. Apparently most Karaganda houses don't turn on the heat until October and bear any cold that arises until then; they really need it for the winter when it regularly gets down to 30 below zero (it doesn't much matter at that point whether we're talking C or F; it's bone-chilling cold). And there was no kitchen to prepare food, though they had a restaurant with reasonable prices. I was hoping for a kitchen, though, because I had brought a lot of food with me. The wifi hardly ever worked. It would come on weakly for a few minutes, and then sputter out. There were adequate electrical outlets for me near my bed, but no light near the bed. There was decent storage but no big storage and no lockable storage, though the room door locked. The guesthouse was decent to middling shelter from the weather, but nothing fancy at all, and some might find it lacking, though I did appreciate a private room for a change.

From Yekaterinburg to Astana

I left Yekaterinburg early in the evening on this old Uzbek train that looked like a museum piece. In fact, many of the trains I saw running throughout Kazakhstan looked like they belonged on pedestals. The Uzbek train had a schedule showing the old Soviet name of Yekaterinburg, or Sverdlovsk. The train also made a lot of stops that weren't on the schedule; I guess the schedule just listed the major stops. At 10 pm, the lights suddenly went out on the train. Oh, well, I had my cell phone flashlight at least. But then after a while, they came back on while I was asleep, so I woke up and turned off my cabin light. It got fairly cold on the train at night. The Russian trains are usually heated, but this Uzbek one wasn't. And there were no blankets in the compartment so all I had to cover myself was a thin sheet.

The train crossed the Russia/Kazakh border at around 5 am, and stopped for a while, and Russian Authorities boarded the train. When they got to my compartment, they asked me some questions, took my migration pass, and they stamped my passport with an exit stamp. I was waiting for the Kazakh officials, but fell asleep. I woke up later and the train was moving. I realized, in shock, that I was fairly far into Kazakhstan and no Kazakh officials had stamped my passport for entry. I was wondering how that was going to work. But a few minutes later, right before the train pulled into Petropavl, a Kazakh official came into my compartment. He had this odd, retro-looking box with a keyboard on top, and it apparently had a camera inside, because he used it to take my picture. He also stuck my passport into a slot in the box, I'm guessing to scan it. He typed a bunch of stuff on the keyboard, asked me some questions, and then stamped my passport. I had never had my passport stamped so far inland into a country before.

I fell back asleep on the train, and was awakened by a guy who asked me in Russian if I wanted "plokh". Or that's what it sounded like. I had no idea what that was, he repeated it several times, and then said it was soup. I asked him how much it was, he said it was 200 rubles. Oh, good, they were still taking Russian money, because I had no Kazakh tenge yet. So I said yes, and he brought the soup served in what looked like a ceramic teapot, but with no spout. It was a very hearty and delicious soup, loaded with vegetables and garbanzos. When I order soup in a former Soviet country, I never know if I'll get something hearty and substantial, or minimal and watery with no flavor. Usually it's the former, but you never know.

I arrived at the main train station, Astana-1. I was really weary when I got there. Usually I will try to find a bus to the hostel, or just walk, but a taxi driver asked me if I wanted a ride and I accepted. The hostel was about 5 kilometers from the bus station, so the ride was not too long. When the taxi driver dropped me off at the building where the hostel was, I couldn't see any sign of the hostel in the building. I had to walk around the building several times, and ask some people, and nobody seemed to know anything about a hostel. I tried to call them on Skype with the number listed in my confirmation email, but I couldn't get enough signal for Skype to work. Finally, a local guy helped me out by calling them, found out that I had to get in a back door, and then, when inside, push the “4” button on the list of offices in the building, and they would let me in. Man, that took nearly a half hour. I wish these hidden hostels would send instructions with their confirmation emails as to where they are in the building and how to get in.

Astana is the capital of Kazakhstan, and has only been the capital since 1997. All over town, there are large signs that say "Astana 20", left over from last year's 20 year anniversary. Astana is divided by the Isham River into two sides, the New City and the Old City. I was staying in the Old City. Frankly, both sides looked equally new to me. Both sides had a city center that consisted of a whole bunch of buildings that looked like they had been built fairly recently, and put up fairly quickly. The old Soviet style of architecture was only visible in some of the older apartment buildings, and the newer buildings looked quite intricate and complex, though maybe somewhat slapdash. My first exploration was in the Old Town, just briefly. And the first thing I did was search for a Kazakh SIM card for my phone. I found it in a building called the Business Center next door, I went with the carrier Beeline because the guy who sold it seemed to think I'd get the best deal on data with it. I had been using my US carrier, T-Mobile, for roaming data everywhere I had been, and for several years, that worked great, and it was just seamless from country to country that I would receive data, though it was fairly slow most of the time. But I recently got a shocking text from them saying they are going to cut me off from roaming; apparently they have changed their policy so if more than 50% of your use is not in the US, you don't get to roam any more. And, in calling them, there appears to be no appeal, it's just the way it is. Apparently everybody who is a long-term traveler is just getting cut off. Well, this completely sucks for me because now I'm going to have to get a new SIM card every time I get to a new country. Some things I really don't like are that now I'm going to have to watch my data (I use a lot) because the SIM cards I get will have limits. Also, I use my US phone number for authentication for some things, and that is going to be a huge morass once I can't do that. But, on the plus side, the data will be faster, and probably cheaper, in most countries I'm in.

The next day, I walked to the new town, and on my way there, there was a spot that jutted up on the sidewalk, and I tripped on it. I wasn't able to catch my balance, and tumbled to the concrete. I had some minor abrasions on one hand and one knee. They were not too bad, but were actively bleeding, so I decided to try to find a pharmacy. It wasn't that easy to find a pharmacy; I had to poke around for about an hour, but I finally found one by asking some locals, and it was hidden inside a building, with no outside sign at all. I got some bandaids and some hydrogen peroxide, patched myself up, and continued on my journey.

The New City had a long walking boulevard on it called Nurzhol Bulvar that seemed to be the highlight of that side of town. It started along the main road that crossed the bridge from the Old City to the New City, and ended at the Presidential Palace. In between, there was an awful lot going on. It seemed to be the big hangout place for people. There is one tall building called the Ministry for Transport and Communications, but locals call it “The Lighter”. There are three green towers called the Northern Lights, and an assortment of other buildings along the way. There are also a lot of sculptures, and vendors selling food and other assorted items. There is a large tower topped by a round ball called the Bayterek Monument, and it is flanked by two golden towers. The Presidential Palace is at the end of the boulevard, and I arrived there after night fell, so I saw it all lit up at night.

I wandered around the New City at night, marveling at the light show that the city provided. A lot of the buildings are lit up with amazing colors and patterns. I wandered around for a couple of hours, but it was getting late, so I headed back to the main street to try to take a bus back to the hostel. I got almost to the stop, and I saw two buses that I knew headed in the right direction leave before I got to the bus stop. When I got to the bus stop, it was about 10:40 at night, and the schedule on the side of the bus stop indicated that the buses all stopped running between 10:30 and 11. Oh, crap, I had just missed those two buses that were the last ones. Then another bus pulled up, and I had no idea where it went, but I hopped on, hoping for the best, and it was pointing in the right direction. Well, it turned shortly after that, and I did go to the Old City, but in an entirely wrong direction. I asked the conductor if it was going to turn, and she indicated that it would, but it didn't turn far enough to go anywhere near where I wanted to go. But a woman on the bus saw my predicament, and motioned for me to get off the bus at the next stop. So I did, and she got off with me, and walked over to a cross street. I asked here if there was another bus there, and she said, no, we were going to take a taxi. In Astana, “taking a taxi” is not actually taking a taxi. It consists of putting your hand in the air to basically hitchhike from every passing car, and then bargaining for where you want to go and the price. But it is a very successful strategy. She put her hand up, and it was the second car that stopped. She talked to them in Kazakh, pointed to me, and told me they had arranged to take me for 500 tenge, or about a dollar and a half. I agreed, and got in, and she got in too. They drove me right to my hostel, and when I tried to pay them, they refused to accept it. I tried to be insistent about it, but they wouldn't hear of it, sending me off by saying, “Welcome to Kazakhstan!” in English.

I spent the rest of my time in Astana exploring the Old City some more, and it was interesting, though it didn't seem to have as many iconic sights as the New City. When it was time to leave, I found out the #3 and #10 buses went to the train station, so I headed to Respublika Ave., the main street to take the first one of those I could catch, and it was the #3.

I stayed at: The Barrel Hostel, 9 Imanbayeva Street Kvartira 4, Astana, 010000, Kazakhstan, telephone +7 717 223 9076. Aside from the problems in finding it, it was a nice, comfortable hostel. You just have to enter the back door furthest to the right and push the “4” button; someone will buzz you in. There seemed to always be someone there to buzz you in; at some hostels that is not the case. The bathrooms were nice and clean, and I never had trouble using one. The shower is strong with good hot water. There is a filter tap on the sink for filtered water; I drank it and it was just fine. The beds are nice, with a shelf for your stuff and two outlets. There are very large lockers shaped like barrels with combo locks built in. You have to take your shoes off and leave them at the front.