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Published: December 8th 2009
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Turkistan
Yausai Mausoleum
The last few weeks I have been doing the raw work in travelling. Unlike what most people picture travelling to be like, it is not all laying on a beach, under a swaying palm tree, sipping fancy cocktails. Mostly it is arranging cheap accommodation, finding an inexpensive place to eat, finding out how the public transport works (backpackers can not afford taxis), trying to figure out train and bus timetables to get to the next destination, in short all the mundane stuff that never gets mentioned. And when one is travelling a country as vast as Kazakhstan, with a visa that is only valid for a month and with precious little in the way of budget prices, there is a lot of figuring out to be done. To travel it cheaply I decided to couch surf, this takes time to organize, than there was the fact of trying to find out how the transport worked, the frequency and all that, and all of this in a country where English is hardly spoken. So I would say that in the second half of my Kazakhstan trip, fifty percent was actually spent on trains and buses, a quarter on trying to live cheaply
Turkistan
The unfinished facade of the Yasaui Mausoleum
and finally the last quarter on the actual seeing the sights aspect.
So was it worth it? Well I guess that depends on the person. There isn't that much to see in Kazakhstan and what there is takes ages to get to. But than again, getting from A to B is half the fun of travelling. Meeting people on the trains, and even looking out on the empty steppes for hours on end, just letting your mind wander to unknown places, not unlike the scenery. In any case I can say, that the places visited were varied, each special in its own way.
First on the list, after a mere twenty hour train ride, was Turkistan, Kazakhstans most historic sight and probably its most holy as well. Here was built on a grand scale the Mausoleum of Yasaui, a revered Sufi teacher and poet of the tenth century. It has its blue tiled domes, and walls, and at the front a thousand year old scaffolding can still be seen, as if the workers took a lunch break and never came back. Probably this was due to a wage conflict, since the main sponsor of the building died before
Turkistan
Lonely camel outside the Mausoleum
it was finished. This man was none other than Timur who was better known throughout the region for his unfortunate habit of sacking cities and stacking the skulls of the residents in neat piles after finishing them off. It was cold and grey when I arrived and it was still cold and grey when I left the next day, only to arrive late at night in another cold and grey place, or at least it felt that way, since it was dark I couldn't actually see if it was.
In an ironic twist of fate, the folk of my next destination are probably the only ones in the world hoping against all hope for a sea level rise! The place is called Aralsk and it was once an important fishing port on the Aral Sea, when there still was such a thing. As I awoke the next morning and looked out of my window the town was shrouded in fog, very much what you would expect of a port city. Perhaps things had changed overnight? To verify that the Sea was really gone I decided to wander down to the harbour, not very difficult as it was just around
Turkistan
Window details
the corner. There looming up in the mist were towering cranes, hovering over a decaying quay, which ended in... dirt and shrubs, several meters below. The sea was indeed gone! A depression was all that marked the ancient boundaries of the Aral Sea. A few fishing vessels have been put on platforms and spruced up, just next to the former harbor. If there was water they would be ready to go. For a while I peered intently into the misty plains, and watched the mist envelop some lonely cows grazing on the sea-bed. Was this the future of tourism? Visiting man made eco-disasters? A picture appeared in my mind of a backpacker, who after three days on a hard bus ride through a barren waste land arrives at a huge tree. Around the tree is an iron fence and on the fence is a sign. He walks up to it and reads it, it says: "Once there were many, where now there is one. My brethren all slain, in the name of progress. The sea of green evaporated in a puff of smoke, and with it all life therein sustained. I alone bear witness to this tragedy, a silent testimony
Turkistan
Close up of one of the domes
to human folly. And when the time cometh that I too shall perish, all memory will fade of the mighty jungle that was!"
So reads the sign on the last tree of the jungle, another tourist trap in some distant future.
Luckily the future isn't so bleak, the northern part of the Aral Sea has been gaining ground again lately, thanks to efforts at preserving it. Though the southern part is probably doomed to die an inglorious death. I feel a bit guilty about coming here to look at, what is a disaster for the people in the region. In a sense I am no better than those disaster tourists who come to watch an accident or some other miserable event. And as if Aralsk thinks so as well, it decides to punish me for my sins by giving me a bout of food poisoning just as I leave on the night train to Aktobe. The twelve hour train journey is spent perched on top of a filthy toilet, emptying the contents of my stomach and more. Luck would have it, that by the time I reach Aktobe, my stomach at least has calmed down, though the rest of
Turkistan
Women chatting away in front of the Mausoleum
my body feels like it has been crushed by an elephant, and I have a slight fever. Aktobe is not my destination, Uralsk is, which is another 10 hour bus ride away. By the time I finally arrive there the next night, I am a walking corps, happy that my host Veronika has a hot shower and a warm and cozy bed ready for me. And as I lay down in that heavenly bed, I realize that this too is travelling for you. That great feeling of arriving somewhere after a hellish journey and being taken care of by a friendly stranger.
Refreshed I wake up in Europe! Yes, Uralsk is in Europe. It is a little known fact that a small part of Kazakhstan is within the geographical boundaries of Europe. In the night, just before entering Uralsk, we crossed the Ural river marking that border. It was one of the reasons for coming all this way, another was because it was here that a man named Pugachev started a peasant revolt that almost toppled the Tsarist regime of Catherine the Great. I came to see the city and the log hut, which is now a museum, in
Turkistan
Yours truly which the man lived. I discovered from a painting he had four eyes! Well actually he had two and his hat had two... The reason for this I found quite amusing. In anticipation of his eminent victory he decided to have himself painted over a portrait of Empress Catherine the Great, however things didn' turn out the way he had planned and he lost his head in the end. The painting remained however, but over the years the top layer has faded away and slowly an un-amused Catherine is re-emerging, her eyes can now be seen looking down on Pugachev from his hat! So it seems even on canvas Catherine will have the last laugh.
With my visa running out, it was time to go to Atyrau, my last destination in this country. Atyrau lacks everything that Uralsk has. There is no faded grandeur here, no classical buildings, no four eyed freak. It is a functional oil booming town, with lots of expat oil men, and at least one expat English teacher, who was also my host, Ronald from the United States. What Atyrau does have is the fact that just like Istanbul, half lies in Europe and the
Aralsk
In front of Aralsk train station other half in Asia, the Ural river neatly cutting it in two. It is the cities saving grace. Not that it is an unpleasant town, it is just not exactly the most exciting of towns. My main reason for going to Atyrau was because from here train tracks lead down into north-western Uzbekistan, my next destination. But that will be for another blog.
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JonathanCampion
Jonathan Campion
Thanks.
I really enoyed this blog. The sense of open space and the unusual history are some of the things drawing me to Central Asia, and you describe them well. Until I get there, Ill look forward to reading your next few stories.