it's funny the first time

I decided to keep a log of the border crossing, although I was careful not to let them see me making notes. Because I'm pretty sure that would be subversive activity.

At 4:50 pm we pulled into a Kazak exit station for a quick passport and visa check, and by 5:00 we were rolling backwards to the yard where our undercarriage was to be changed, due to the different gauge of the former Soviet countries.  Somewhere between that and the entry of customs officers for Kazakhstan, darkness fell.

My passport was taken at 6:20, at 6:49 we began to move, but did not go far.  At 6:58 we stopped again, and at 7:06 an officer with a dog came through.

At 7:15 a small group of officers came by and asked me to pull out and open my bags.  They were all men, and mostly just looked at things, asking me to pull things out but not handling them.  At 7:56 my passport was returned and I foolishly put my bags away under my seat again.

At 8:47, the train moved again, but stopped a short while later.  Another group entered, including someone who apparently is a nurse, who took my temperature around 9:15.

At 9:20 I was asked for my passport again, told to stand up, and I took off my glasses this time without being asked.  The officer thoroughly compared me with my passport, checked my visa and then left with the passport in hand.

9:22: an officer stopped in to say welcome to China.

9:25 brought three more officers, two of whom were women.  They wanted to search all my bags and asked about books and maps.  I pulled out the map of China that I have, and then was required to pull out my bags again to show them all books.  I had one still wrapped in cellophane that is intended as a gift, and she took a long time over that one.  She and her fellow officers commented on the books to each other in Chinese.  The map was the source of an extended discussion in Chinese, but in the end they let me keep it. One of them commented that I like books.  I smiled and agreed.

9:35, another female officer arrived, with a male shadowing, and she asked for my phone.  I said I have no phone but gestured to my tablet, which I had laid on the table.  She took it and went through it pretty thoroughly.  Of course I was not on line so all she could look at was what was stored, which is minimal.  I am surprised she didn't ask to view what I had on my flashdrives. Next she went through a lot of the photos on my camera, but eventually grew weary of that-I have a lot.  And then, you guessed it, she went through my bags. I am not sure if I was singled out because I am an oddity or if everyone gets this treatment.

At 10:17 my passport was returned. At 10:42 the train moved, but false alarm.  It is now 11:00 and we have still not departed.

At 11:30 we finally got under way again.

During these border crossings the toilet is locked and you are expected to stay in or near your cabin.  However, fortunately, between the Kazak and Chinese process, they opened the toilets. Eventually I also got hot water for my noodle dish and had dinner in between visits, once I realized that this really was going to take many hours.

When I read in Lonely Planet that the border crossing takes six hours, I thought surely that was outdated information.  I must say, they have been quite thorough.  Fortunately they have also been civil, even courteous at times.  I thought of making a joke a few times but this is serious business and so I refrained.  Lost opportunity.

tentative confidence

You know how one thing builds on another, such as how an uninvited change in life ends up leading to something you would never been have considered before? Well, that's not exactly what I mean, but close enough. As I walked over to the train station from the hotel, it was dark, drizzly, the street lights were minimal at best, and it seemed I was alone in the night. I was alone, as a matter of fact. But my point has more to do with my comfort with the situation. I would not have been able to do that comfortably at one time. Looking back I can see a sort of progression, each experience pushing the limits of the prior one, whether by design or accident. In such small steps that they were not visible to me at the time, I have gained confidence in new situations, whether at work, or traveling, or some other life activity.
I suspect I will need to draw on that supply in the next week. I am excited about going to western China, but I am intimidated as well. Once again, the language is beyond me, so I will have to try to compensate in some way. There remains the possibility of failure, which of course teaches more than success; still I prefer happy results.
Meanwhile I can't help holding my breath a little.

On boarding, it became immediately apparent that I was assigned to a cabin with a railway employee, but he immediately moved me to my own cabin, which has turned out very well.  The beds are more like padded benches, and smaller too, but  the cabin has a power outlet, and best of all, it is mine alone. We rolled out of the station right on time.

With the cabin to myself, I can leave the curtains open, even at night, and watch the lights of the small stations and towns we pass. Along the way, the nature of the stations, and the settlements has changed sublty.  The shapes of the roofs, the cemeteries, the minarets and other things indicate an asian influence.  Outside the villages, there are miles and miles of steppe with no tree in sight, and grey skies.
There are only a few other passengers in this car, plus a contingent of railway employees.  Either they have a full contingent of staff for a long trip and there are just not that many of us, or some of them are riding off-duty.  They keep to themselves unless asked for something. I showed one who was walking by my cup and tea bag and asked about hot water, and he pointed to the spigot.  We have moved on to stoop/pit toilets, which is probably a heads up about what the next week will bring.

I am snug in my cabin, and life is very good right now.

We pulled into a station and I saw a couple of vendors alongside, so I went out.  They were two women with handwheeled carts which on closer inspection look like repurposed old fashioned baby buggies.  I felt slightly smug at being able to negotiate the transactions. I pulled out Yuan (Chinese currency) but she shook her head no-of course-while the staff is Chinese on the train, we are still in Kazakhstan.

When I started planning this trip, Urumqi seemed exotic and beyond my ken, and now I can see past it to so many delights and treasures.  I will only scratch the surface.

a little worse for wear

I am recently returned from the land of internet censorship-one of those places anyway. If I had known before what I know now, I would have been more prepared, but that's the way of all new experiences, I think.

I am posting my notes in chronological order, but I have edited them a little. Looking over the past week, I can see a progression. My first introductions to China were challenging at best. I am reminded of many people in other places who were able to look past American governmental actions and did not judge it's people generally, and me specifically. So as the week went on, while I was hampered by my lack of language skills to a degree I have never been anywhere else, there was a gradual edification process for me. Painful often and a very steep learning curve, but I don't regret the experience.

So if you can mentally wind back the clock a bit, my posts start last week with the train ride from Almaty, Kazakhstan to Urumqi, China.

China

I have arrived in China, in Urumqi. I am attempting to post this via email. If someone can please comment that you can read it, that would be great. More later.

It is the land of censorship, I guess, because I am unable to access my blog (subversive, I know), maps, Facebook, etc.

train photos

I probably don't need to label this one

The tap where steaming hot water was always available for tea (chai) or instant noodles, or anything else

The source of the heat for the hot water

The compartment

Almaty stopover

The view of the majestic and snow capped Tien Shan mountains as we rolled into Almaty was enough to give me pause. I was alternately standing in the corridor looking out at the town, and sitting in my bunk looking out the window on that side of the train, feeling the butterflies in my stomach that seem always to come with arrival at a new unknown place.  But the mountains made me forget for a moment.  They are mostly in Tajikistan, but that isn't far from where I am right now.  In fact, if my train from here were not a night train, I would be able to watch the mountains in the south for some time.  Instead I will be sleeping on yet another train.  You will be happy to hear that I got a shower today.  I was getting pretty grimy, there is only so much you can do in the nasty train bathrooms, because you don't actually want to touch any surfaces, and the train sways and jolts indiscriminately.  In theory I could have just stashed my bag at the Left Luggage at the train station for the day, but I wanted a shower in the worst way, and I also wanted to do some laundry.

So first things first, I found a hotel that agreed to charge me for a 12 hour day (I have to check out at 9 pm), took a shower and washed a few things in the sink.  Then I used the hair dryer in the bathroom to jumpstart the drying process before I went out exploring. Technically this is just a transit point for me, but of course I wanted to explore.

I finally got some Tenge, the Kazak currency.  The current exchange rate is 181 Tenge: $1, so you get money in the thousands of Tenges. I did not have any on the train, so was a bit restrained about buying at stops, both unsure if they would take rubles, and uncertain what the exchange rate should be if they did.  At one place we stopped I bought some sort of dumpling, and I think I paid too much, but it equated to about $2.50, so it was a worthwhile gamble.

I wondered as I walked back to the hotel as people were headed home from work, if they know that there are very few cities in the world where one can just go out on the side of the street and stand there, and endless cars will pull over as potential taxis.  For whatever reason, this is common here.  Every car is a taxi, for the right price, and if you are both going the same way.  Imagine trying that in, well, any city in the US.

I stopped off at a mosque, but it was prayer time, so I did not go in. There was an old woman in a shawl and scarf outside the mosque, sitting beside an old wooden two-wheeled cart, selling various and sundry items.  I saw something I wanted to buy, and of course could not tell what price she was quoting, so I asked her to write it down (charades again).  We managed to negotiate a bit, and both ended up happy.  I'm pretty sure I paid too much, but it was 500 Tenge ($2.86 or so).  I can live with that.

I wandered down a pedestrian shopping street, took a detour and ended up in a funky sort of indoor market, from baked goods to furniture.  I happened to run into Ms. Accountant and Ms. Law student as I was wandering today too, which is pretty surprising since it was not in a tourist area, and the city is not that small.  They waved me in to the restaurant they were eating at, but of course after a couple of minutes we ran out of things that our language limitations would encompass, so I moved on. They are both quite excited to be here, it is their first visit to Almaty, and they think it's a wonderful place.  My first impressions are of a utilitarian/college town, but that's from 8 hours worth of time-talk about snap judgments.

There is a significant Korean population here, and a lot of Korean restaurants too.  My understanding is that this is the result of a forced emigration by the Soviets at some point in time.  I read something about it, but have already forgotten, and that book has been jettisoned already.

One of the specialties here is horse meat, cooked various ways.  I would say I haven't had any, but I have no idea what I am eating most meals.  And as they say, when in Rome. . .

Some packing/organizing and planning now, some more blow-drying to do, and then I will check out and find some dinner to while away a couple of hours.  Tomorrow around 10:00 am I should be in Urumqi, China.  Another interesting border crossing in the middle of the night.

ad infinitum

At one stop along the way, some vendors came on the train to sell thick socks, scarves, and some were selling honey:  regular, creamed or in the comb.  I should have bought the combed honey but did not work up the nerve to negotiate until a later vendor came by.  In this too, Almaz helped because he wrote the prices down on our by now well used newspaper table covering.  While I dithered, the price dropped, and I found myself with a biggish container of honey.

When Natali came by to say goodby, another group formed, this time including another woman passenger.  They all discussed me and what I should do at length, some of which clearly embarrassed Natali, and she refused to translate it for them.
I asked her if she felt I should be concerned about anything and she said no.  I think it is unfathomable to the others that I am traveling like this unable to speak Russian.  Natali has had some experience with traveling outside her comfort zone, so she dismissed their concerns. With her departure, I would be without someone to translate, and this was a concern for Almaz in particular, who seemed to feel responsible for me.
It is true that I am alone, and I do feel it.  But just as I have become their project, people do tend to help others, and while I will no doubt be hungry sometimes, and will miss some very cool things, I will be ok, and I would rather do it this way than not to go.
We followed the Volga River for a while after Saratov, and I made a second attempt at the dining car.  The head? waitress was there and she just came and sat down with me and the menu, another crew member came over too, and they told me what to order by pointing to something and of course talking about it, none of which I understood.  So that was what I ordered.  There really was no other way.  It was some sort of goulash, served with rice and a couple of tomato and cucumber.  I had a warm Coke, because I couldn't figure out any other drinks besides vodka on the menu.  No ice, and all drinks served room temperature.
I find myself glad that I brought all those books, in spite of their weight and bulk.  Watching the scenery only goes so far, and once it is dark around 7, there is none of that to do.  Talking to fellow passengers is really hard work.  We got two more cabin mates during the night, a couple.  They are now in the top bunks, and are going all the way to Almaty, Alma Ata.  I had foolishly hoped to have the cabin to myself after Almaz disembarks, but that is not to be.  In fact, the train has gotten progressively more full.
People stand out in the corridor, lean on the railing and talk endlessly.  It appears that keeping to one's self would be an oddity in this part of the world.  I rely on smiles and offering food, and saying 'spaseebah' (spelled phonetically here), which means thank you, in order not to seem boorish and rude.  Almaz wears me out with his constant interaction, just because it is so hard to make ourselves understood to each other.
I went again to the dining room mid-day the following day because it occurred to me that I would be ignored there, and there were two men who had eaten, and were drinking shots of vodka.  By this time they were sloppy drunk.  One of them knew some English and started talking to me.  He was hard to understand, either because of his English or the vodka, but I didn't try very hard either.  They offered vodka, and I wisely (I think) declined. At last they gave up and left me alone.
It is amazing how much can be conveyed without language, and conversely, how little.
My sense of time is altered, because it really matters not at all whether it is 10am or 7 pm.  I eat when I am hungry and can find something, use the toilet, doze, read and the day goes on.  Surprisingly it does not drag. I realized near the end of day 2 that I actually have four nights and three full days on this train.  Somehow over the time since I scheduled this leg, it had morphed in my brain to 3 nights.  That was painful, because I was ready to get away from the constant scrutiny, however well-intentioned it is.
The outsides of the windows are all dirty, and combined with the fact that we are usually moving, many of my attempts to photograph the country we are traversing are not as successful as hoped.  I have seen miles and miles of empty plains, beautiful river, villages and settlements too small to be a village, fields of grains, and more.
Day 3:
Almaz has found more English speakers, and has presented them to me with delight, almost as a cat brings a mouse before its human.
I am not sure that the two young ladies were very happy to  be brought, but I am sure they would not have been able to tell Almaz no.  What a hoot he is.
Their English is limited, but I believe one is just finished with University as an accountant, and the other is going to school studying law.  The accountant was the primary speaker, and she said they go to school for 9 years, then 3 years of college, then 3 of university. It may be that college is more like our high school but our language difficulty precluded clearing up that point.
I find Almaz to be a kind human being.  I was feeling a bit low last evening, and had no idea anyone would know but I think he noticed, because he started pulling up a video on his computer, and he had Ms. Accountant help him type my name in to it.  I asked her what it was, and she said it was to make feel good or something like that.  I think she meant humor, but not sure.  This evolved into watching some cartoon show in Russian that had different characters but in some ways reminded me of the Roadrunner.  Even without knowing any of the language, I could get the jist of the plot.  At one point we had 6 people in our cabin watching this.  Four of us were on my bed, so going to bed was not an option, and I began to feel it would never end.  I knew I could not be so rude as to kick them out, and besides, I did not have the words to do so.  It felt a little surreal, and kind of funny too.

Today is Kurban ait, a Kazak celebration.
Immediately after Almaz left, a woman took his place. She spoke to me, and I told her I did not speak Russian.  She continued to talk, and was clearly in disbelief that I really, truly could not respond or even understand.  This seemed to offend her a little, and I wondered if it is because the norm seems to be to befriend fellow travelers on sight.  I offered her food to show I meant no ill will. She in turn gave me what looked like a small pumpkin.  I tried not to take it but that went nowhere.  Later I realized it was a melon, and she could see that I had a knife on the table.

Suddenly, or so it seemed to me, the countryside began to change.  We passed from the long stretches of empty plains where the only color came from occasional rooftops or paint on a house, to something that looks a shrine, then a ruins, and then! a camel!  I thought at first it was just an oddity but soon there were more, whole herds of them.  The small towns have minarets, and some of the people seen along the way look like peasants.

The stop in Turkestan (town) showed a marked difference.  I got out to look around a bit, and was excited to watch the goings on.  Vendors selling their wares, little women in caftan type outfits and scarves on their heads, large carts full of melons, rows of apples and other recently harvested fruit. I wanted to stay for a while, but alas I have visa time frames to keep, and other travel plans already made.  This makes me excited about Hotan (aka Khotan or Heitan), China, and about Uzbekistan as a whole. We passed some of the orchards on our way out of town, surrounded by high bare adobe walls.  In the smaller settlements, most of the buildings are adobe, with the houses tending to be stucco'd and the barns and sheds left rough. The soil looks sandy but clearly there is adobe nearby.
I went again to the dining car, this time just to use the table to write, and to look out the window.  They have some lovely music playing, and I asked what it was.  Of course, my pointing at the ceiling did not clue them in to what I was asking, so a committee formed again, and a man at the next table knew the English word music, so we got it worked out.  He wrote the artist's name down in my notebook for me.
One of the travelers from last night's video session had followed me in to the dining car, and he soon left his booth to join mine.  Boundaries are just different, at least in such a close environment as a long distance train ride.  He was asking me something (in Russian, even though he knew I did not speak it), as if he could make it clear to me by saying it over again.  Suddenly he jumped up with an exclamation and ran to the car.  Not surprisingly, hereturned with Ms. Accountant in tow.  I felt sorry for her, but what could I do?
Like Almaz, his solution to not being able to communicate is to show me pictures and videos.  I will have to leave this lovely spot to lose him.
I pick up my Uzbek book and he eventually wanders off.
Out the window I see see a boy playing with a soccer ball while tending sheep, a man driving a donkey and cart through a ditch, an old woman bending over a bucket in the farmyard, a patch of sunflowers left standing in a garden.
Unlike other places I have been where I was of as much interest as the others were to me, I do not have a place to retreat on this train, other than at night, when I curl up in my bunk.  Then I close my eyes, and I can pretend that no one is watching any longer.
Each new arrival to a compartment changes the delicate balance previously achieved balance, and we must resettle.  The small unspoken agreements are unknown to the new entrant.