I love the Uzbek ambassador

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I wandered past the Uzbek embassy an hour or so before it was due to open for visa applications, just to get the lay of the land and see if anyone had turned up to start queueing. I spoke to the guard, who wrote my name down on a list and told me to come back at 2.30pm.

Instead of hanging around there I had a pleasant hour or so mooching around in Gorky Park, and then psyched myself up for another afternoon of hassle and returned to the embassy, fully expecting a sea of flailing elbows and women with russet beehives yelling at each other in Russian.

Imagine my surprise to find about 15 people sat calmly on benches chatting. This was looking decidedly unlike the Kazakh embassy in Bishkek, but I wasn't about to count my chickens, at least not until I'd seen how late they'd actually bother opening. The list was most likely pointless, so I watched carefully to make sure I moved quickly when the assembled group started preparing for the scrum.

But then, shocking me to the core, the guard appeared at the gate ten minutes early and actually called out the first five names from the list. Including me. Shurely shome mishtake. It's not meant to be like this.

40 minutes later I was stood back out in the street clutching my passport with - get this - the actual visa. Not a receipt. Not an instruction to come back next month and stick pins in my eyes. Not a demand for more paperwork. No, it was really the visa.

If ever there was a stark contrast, there you have it. So, folks, if you fancy a Central Asian holiday, here's my advice: bugger Kazakhstan. Go to Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan instead.

So that's one battle won. Tomorrow is another day and another web of red tape - the Kazakh registration. I can hardly wait.

The other big contrast I've noticed is between Bishkek and Almaty. Almaty has caught me entirely by surprise, with all the glitz and glamour and designer labels and shiny SUVs. There's oil in these here parts, and you can see it. Kyrgyzstan must be green with envy looking over its northern border and sipping on its kymys.

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