In my country there is problem

by Sheila on 28 Aug, 2014 - 1 comment

Driving to the border of Kazakhstan from Samarkand didn’t look like a big deal on the map. It’s cute how, even at this point, we trusted the maps on our iPads.

We drove north to Tashkent revelling in our smoother ride. The border crossing was just north of the Uzbek capital. When we arrived near the crossing around 5pm, a local stopped ahead of us and informed us that the aforementioned crossing is only for people on foot. No cars. Seriously.

Instead, we had to backtrack over 100km from the road we came to a small town called Chinaz, which was the closest border crossing to Kazakhstan for cars. Of course, in true Central Asian fashion (we were quickly learning), there had been no signage of any kind indicating that there had been an active border there.

Frustrated but stubborn, we drove back to Chinaz then on to the border. We arrived around 8pm, and all movement basically ceased.

First came the mandatory police check at the border approach. There weren’t many people around it seemed, so the guard lazily ambled over more for a chat than to check our documents. As he gave our Uzbek visas and papers a cursory glance, he started asking me the questions I’d gotten all too used to: “How old are you?” “Are you married?” “Where is your man?” Followed, of course, by him mentioning that he was single etc etc. What happened next was a bit of a shock. He asked me my name, then he whipped out a card, wrote my name on it and said it was a wedding invitation! …Possibly to my own wedding? I think by now I’m engaged to most of Central Asia.

Fleeing that situation as quickly as we could without being illegal, we then moved forward to the Uzbek side of the border. It was busier than it appeared, with many people still crossing by foot. One hour, two hours, three hours spent sitting in our car being slowly eaten by mosquitos and despondently filling sudoku puzzles. The Kazakh portion of the border passed by more quickly, but it was past midnight by the time we entered the country.

By this time, all hopes of reaching Almaty that day had been dashed. The best we could hope for was to reach Shymkent, another 150km from the border. This wasn’t to be though, and we had to kip for the night by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Kazakhstan.