We camped above the city of Baikonur on the eve of Uri Gagarin’s first flight from there exactly 50 years earlier. We decided to hold our own ceremony on the day of the anniversary. At exactly 9 am we stood on the brow of a hill overlooking the cosmodrome, where we raised a glass of Heaven vodka to Uri. We thought it an appropriate brand of vodka for the occasion.
As we later passed the city, we noticed lots of joggers and cyclists about and assumed they were celebrating the event with a triathlon. However, we discovered there was an even more impressive feat on the go when, a few hours later, we came across a bus that looked as if it had broken down. We were a little nervous as there appeared to be lots of people in their underwear roaming around on the road. Megan approached ahead of me and, as she advanced, they all rushed over, photographing her and waving for me to come and join them. We learned that they had chosen to honour Uri Gagarin with a super marathon! They were running in relay teams (some in baggy underwear, others in running shorts) from Baikonur to Moscow, 2,500 kilometres away, and estimated it would take them three months. Some of the runners were former Olympians from the Paralympic Games. It was inspiring to meet this group along our own challenging journey.
The kindness of strangers
There were always small moments that helped to lift our spirits, usually inspired by people’s kindness and curiosity. A gallant gentleman pursued us on his grey horse, to check we were okay, and to make sure we had food. When we assured him that we had supplies, he disappeared, muttering, and we presumed he had turned back, thinking we were lunatics. In fact he had gone home to fetch us some fresh camel milk to fortify ourselves.
We also had regular visits from the security guards on the pipeline track. They would come and check on our progress, often calling in at our campsite at night to make sure all was in order. They were cheerful and friendly fellows who always brought us a laugh.
Rest and illness
After two weeks, we reached Aralsk, where John left us and Megan and I relaxed in the relative luxury of the Aral Hotel for a couple of nights. The beds were comfortable and we eventually managed to get enough hot water to dribble over ourselves for our first decent wash in over two weeks. I am sure that the population of Aralsk was even more grateful than we were! As these were rest days, we took the opportunity to be tourists and spent a fascinating day seeing the reclaimed Aral Sea and the ship graveyard.
Leaving Aralsk, we found ourselves riding along tracks and small roads linking settlements and oil pipeline stations while following the railway line that I had been on weeks earlier. Gradually the tracks left the steppe behind and we came to sand dunes. We had been concerned about getting our little truck through this terrain as it was not a four-wheel drive, but Barzhan, our driver, did a fantastic job nursing it along tracks it was definitely not designed to take on! Our worries had been misdirected, for it was Bolly who was to delay us. He became ill and began to struggle with the daily journey. We could not see what had caused his sudden decline, just that he was losing weight and had very little energy. As leaving him behind was not an option, I had a long walk ahead of me, leading (or dragging) a rather grumpy and slightly depressed horse to our final destination at Shalkar. Normally a fairly easygoing horse, Bolly became annoyed with me constantly urging him on and he eventually turned on me, giving me a good bite on my chest and drawing blood. By now we were both feeling quite sorry for ourselves and we must have been a sight to behold as we ploughed onwards. We slogged on over 90 kilometres of sand dunes, a huge challenge for both of us. We were very relieved to make it to Shalkar, where Bolly could have a rest (and finally recuperate) until Barzhan came to collect him a week later, while I headed home.
Looking back
Once again I found myself on the train, this time heading home to Atyrau. Gazing out onto the steppe as it sped by, I longed to be back out there, slowly crossing it, watching the skies, feeling the breeze, listening to birds and looking out for elusive wildlife. There is something magical about the endless steppe. It has a subtle beauty, one you need to slow down to appreciate. The small nuances of light and shade, the diversity of plant life due to changes in the landscape, the small low-growing flowers, the soaring birds in endless blue skies… these are memories that will live with me forever.
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Yolanda Cook, also on Bolashak, joined Megan for two weeks in May 2012, travelling from Embi to Baygonin and covering about 360 kilometres.
Relocating to Kazakhstan came with many challenges: a foreign language, a different culture and unfamiliar foods. Along with these various tribulations came the vast open steppe, wild tulips, camels, friendly, hospitable people and many, many horses. It is on the steppe that I found a passion for the Kazakh people, their habits and their love of horses; it is here that I left a small part of my heart.
It is said that most nomadic Kazakhs learned to ride before they can walk! The horse has always been essential to Kazakh culture: it played an important role in exploring the steppe and moving the yurts and possessions from place to place. Even today horses are a basic element of Kazakh nutrition, with both their milk and meat being consumed. Ever since I can remember I have wanted to live on the vast open steppe with my horse, experience life as a nomad and get to know this culture. Never did I think that I would get the chance to do it…
Out on the steppe
The weather here can easily jump from –40° Celsius in winter to 40° Celsius in summer. I was lucky to be out on the steppe in May, with its milder temperatures, and to experience enormous open spaces filled with green grasses and several small, landlocked lakes. No traffic (for it’s a terrain too rugged for vehicles), no man-made noise… just peace and tranquility, the odd birdsong, caravans of camels and herds of horses. We carried water for the horses in drums on the back-up truck. Of course it was rationed, because we never knew when we would reach the next watering hole. Every night before bedtime I would take a small amount of water, head off to my tent, have a wash down, add a sprinkling of baby powder, and I was fresh as a daisy the following morning.
There are no phone lines or electricity cables either, just the friendly smiles from the herders on the steppe as they extended invites to join them for a cup of tea. They would surprise us on horseback, approaching with thundering hooves across grass-laden hills, appearing out of nowhere. I can imagine the two of us must have stuck out like a sore thumb: two Western women riding out on the steppe with our horses and completely different tack! They would flash a friendly smile and indicate to their house over the next couple of hills, where a warm cup of tea awaited. When our horses needed their thirst quenched or a rest, the herders would jump at the opportunity to take the animals into safety and tend to all their needs.
I soon learned that when you go into a Kazakh house for a cup of tea, you do not get to leave after one cup! Tea is a whole affair and never just ‘a quick cuppa’. The tea is poured from a samovar to which they add a few scoops of milk with a wooden spoon. It is served in a special Asian-style cup (called a piala or kese), or in a small wooden bowl and accompanied by several nibbly bits. Apparently, if you are served a half-bowl your company is still welcome. When you are served a full cup, it is time to get moving. I can happily say that we had numerous half-cups!
Sometimes a herder would join us for a short ride on his horse. Then, all of a sudden and without warning, he would gallop off into the distance, probably to go and tend to his daily chores. Small houses dotted the steppe every few kilometres and I was amazed that inhabitants could make a living in the middle of nowhere, with no shops within a few days’ journey. It dawned on me that this is how they have been doing it for centuries.
During the ride we often came to a gastenitsa (small café or restaurant) that would serve us a delicious, hearty meal. I learned to sample and love many traditional dishes: manti (an Uighur dish looks like steamed bun filled with meat, onion and pumpkin), laghman (an Uighur meat soup with homemade noodles) and baursak (traditional Kazakh bread), to name but a few of
my favourites.
Storm on the steppe
A few days into our journey, dark rain clouds were threatening to cut our day short. The driver had gone up ahead to find our camp for the night, but failed to meet us at the roadside as he did every night. By pure chance, we spotted him out in the distance and rode up to him, only to find that the truck was stuck in the mud.
That difficulty aside, he had managed to find an idyllic spot: a clear lake, horses lining the horizon, and a tree. After feeding, rugging and tethering the horses, pitching our tents, pouring our sundowners and starting to cook our supper, we managed to get the truck out of the mud. By this time the storm clouds had decided to dump rain on us. It was thundering and we prayed that our tree would not get struck by lightning. We finished our dinner in the truck, our only shelter. Despite the omnipresent leaks in the tarpaulin that covered the back, we remained relatively dry.
When we decided to call it a night and head for our sleeping quarters, the wind was still howling, with thunder and lightning at full force. Our tents were almost blown flat by the force of the wind. I took off my boots and stepped into my tent, only to find everything, even my bed, drifting in water up to my ankles. My tent clearly was not waterproof!
Everyone was already off to dreamland and I was out in the pouring rain. The only solution was to grab my damp sleeping bag and head for the equally damp truck. I got in the back, cleared a patch between the food, hay, barrels of water and our supplies, tried to plug a few dripping holes with plastic and nodded off to sleep. It was a cold and wet sleep, but I made it through the night and woke wetter and stronger, though with an aching body!
The nomadic experience
Having been able to experience the arid land of Kazakhstan on the back of a horse, in a country where horses have always been the core of the culture, was a special adventure for me, a fellow horse-lover. In Atyrau it is very easy to look past each other and get on with our lives. Being out on the steppe, experiencing what it is like to be a nomad, you get to see people for who they really are. No flashy cars or big houses. Instead you find a yurt fit for a king, a meal prepared with all the host family has to offer, tea accompanied by a hearty smile… an invitation with no ulterior motives. I found real people with a passion for their culture, a culture so rich and so different from the Western life I know.
Note: Megan, Rowena and Chinese rider Peng Wenchao arrived in Greenwich, London, on 22 July 2012, five days before the official opening ceremony of the Olympics. See www.thelonghorseride.com for more details on the route and its riders.
Resources
Books
Aifeld, V.F. (2006) The Land of Enchanted Horizons. Almaty: Publisher
Aitken, J. (2012) Kazakhstan: Surprises and Stereotypes After 20 Years of Independence. London-New York: Continuum International Publishing
Aitken, J. (2009) Nazarbayev and the Making of Kazakhstan: From Communism to Capitalism. London-New York: Continuum International Publishing
Aitmatov, C. (1988) The Day Lasts More Than a Hundred Years. Bloomington: Indiana University Press
Brummell P. (2008) Kazakhstan. Buckinghamshire: Bradt Travel Guides
Canetta, E. (2006) L'inguaribile Tristezza del Saggio: Una Ricerca sulla Cultura Kazaka [Italian]. Genoa: Marietti Editore
Dave, B., (2007) Kazakhstan: Ethnicity, Language and Power. New York: Routledge
Facchini, F. (2008) Popoli della Yurta. Il Kazakhstan tra Le Origini e La Modernità [Italian]. Rimini: Jaca Book
Fergus M. & Jandosova J. (2003) Kazakhstan: Coming of Age. London: Stacey International
Ivashenko, A.A. (2008) Reserves and National Parks of Kazakhstan. Almaty: Almatykitap
Kenzheakhmetly, S. (2007) Kazakh Traditions and Customs. Almaty: Almatykitap
Kuandykov, B. (2008) Keys to the Caspian Shelf. London: Meridian Petroleum
Lamb, S. (2009) Sixteen Months of Mutton: Meat-eating Journeys through Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, and Mongolia. Charleston: Booksurge Publishing
Laroni-Marsilio, N. (Ed.) (2009) Il Profumo dell’Erba [Italian]. Venice: Marsilio Editori
Laumulin, C. & Laumulin, M. (2009) The Kazakhs: Children of the Steppes. Leiden: Global Oriental
Ligabue, G. & Arbore-Popescu, G. (2000) I Cavalieri delle Steppe: Memoria delle Terre del Kazakhstan [Italian]. Milan: Electa Editore
Mamraimov, A. (2009) Sacred Places on the Great Silk Road. Almaty: Almatykitap
Mayhew, B., Bloom, G., & Clammer, P. (2010) Central Asia. London: Lonely Planet
Mesh, S. & Mesh, S. (2003) You’ve Got Mail from Kazakhstan. Higganum: Higganum Hill Books
Nazarbayev, N. & Thatcher, M. (foreword) (2008) The Kazakhstan Way. London: Stacey International Publishers
Olcott, M.B. (2002) Kazakhstan: Unfulfilled Promise. Washington: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace
Olcott, M.B. (1995) The Kazakhs. San Franscisco: Hoover Institution Press
Pomme Clayton, S. (2005) Tales Told in Tents: Stories from Central Asia. London: Frances Lincoln Children’s Books
Robbins, C. (2008) In Search of Kazakhstan: The Land That Disappeared. London: Profile Books
Romanov, I. & Zhandauletov, V. (2010) Kazakhstan. Almaty: Almatykitap
Schreiber, D. (2008) Kazakhstan: Nomadic Routes from Caspian to Altai. Hong Kong: Airphoto International Ltd.
Shayakhmetov, M. (2006) The Silent Steppe: The Story of a Kazakh Nomad Under Stalin. New York City: Overlook Press
Shayakhmetov, M. (2013) A Kazakh Teacher's Story: Surviving the Silent Steppe. London: Stacey International Publishers
Winner, T.G. (1980) The Oral Art and Literature of the Kazakhs of Russian Central Asia (Folklore of the World). North Stratford: Ayer Co Pub
Yakushkin, V. & Yakushkin, I. (2002) Kazakhstan. Almaty: Berei
Films
Abdrashev, R. (Director) (2008) The Gift to Stalin [Podarok Stalinu]. Almaty: Kazakhfilm Studios et al
Amirkulov, A. (Director) (1991) The Fall of Otrar [Gibel Otrara]. Almaty: Kazakhfilm Studios et al
Baigazin, E. (Director) (2013) Harmony Lessons [Uroki Garmonii]. Almaty: Kazakhfilm Studios et al
Bodrov, S. & Passer, I. (Directors) (2005) Nomad: The Warrior [Köshpendiler]. Almaty: Kazakhfilm Studios et al
Dvortsevoy, S. (Director) (2008) Tulpan. Almaty: Eurasia Film
Satayev, A. (Director) (2011) Myn Bala. Almaty: Kazakhfilm Studios et al
Websites, blogs and online videos
Arts & culture
http://www.abay.nabrk.kz/index.php?lang=en
http://www.heritagenet.unesco.kz
http://www.kazakhdervish.com
http://www.ocamagazine.com
Community work & NGOs
http://eng.alemproject.kz
http://www.j127ranch.org
http://www.larca.org/
Expats in Kazakhstan
http://aktauexpats.wordpress.com
http://atyrauexpats.tripod.com
http://ersatzexpat.blogspot.it
http://expat.nursat.kz/
http://kazakhnomad.wordpress.com
http://machinkaz.blogsnel.nl
http://www.expat-blog.com/en/destination/asia/kazakhstan
http://www.expatclic.com (limited content)
http://www.expatexchange.com/kazakhstan/liveinkazakhstan.html
http://www.expatwomen.com/expat-women-countries/expatwomen-living-in-kazakhstan.php
http://www.internations.org/almaty-expats http://www.internations.org/astana-expats
General information
http://aboutkazakhstan.com
http://visitkazakhstan.kz/en
http://welcometokazakhstan.com
http://wikitravel.org/en/Kazakhstan
http://www.astana.kz/en
http://www.discovery-kazakhstan.com
http://www.kazakhstan.orexca.com
http://www.lonelyplanet.com/kazakhstan
http://www.worldtravelguide.net/kazakhstan
News & media
http://azh.kz/en
http://www.edgekz.com
YouTube videos
Aiman Mussakhajayeva (famous Kazakh violinist)
Qara Jorga (traditional Kazakh dance)
Glossary of Terms
A
akim: mayor (Kazakh/Russian)
amin: Muslim gesture of thanks that involves cupping the hands and passing them down the face
apa: aunt (Kazakh)
aul: village (Kazakh)
azhe: grandmother (Kazakh)
B
banya: steam bath (Russian)
baursak: traditional Kazakh bread (Kazakh)
beshbarmak: traditional Kazakh dish of horse, beef, camel and lamb’s meat, served with dough and sprinkled with onions (Kazakh)
besik: baby cradle (Kazakh)
borsh: soup with meat and noodles (Kazakh/Russian)
blynys: thin pancakes folded into triangles, served with sour cream or honey (Russian)
C
chagala: seagull (Kazakh)
chai: tea (Kazakh/Russian)
D
dacha: countryside or small countryside house (Russian)
dah: yes (Russian)
devushka: lady (Russian)
dom: house (Russian)
dvor: courtyard (Russian)
E
F
G
gastenitsa: small café or restaurant (Kazakh)
Golandia: Holland (Kazakh/Russian)
H
horosho: good (Russian)
I
Ia ne ponimayu: I don’t understand (Russian)
J
K
kazan: cauldron-style cooking pot (Kazakh)
kebezhe: traditional Kazakh piece of furniture that is used in the yurt for storing food and tableware (Kazakh)
kese: Asian-style tea cup or small bowl (Kazakh)
kespe: homemade noodles (Kazakh)
klassi: hopscotch (children’s game) (Russian)
kobyz: ancient Kazakh instrument with two strings (Kazakh)
kolbasa: sausage (Russian)
kurdas: men or women who are born in the same year (Kazakh)
kymiz: horse milk (Kazakh)
L
laghman: Uighur meat soup with homemade noodles (Kazakh/ Russian)
Drinking Camel's Milk in the Yurt – Expat Stories From Kazakhstan Page 12