Paradise Lost: Taraz, Kazakhstan

Taraz was my favorite place in Kazakhstan, though by the time I got there I was already rushing back to China to make it in time for classes to start up again after the holiday.

I was, again, staying with a Peace Corps volunteer, who introduced me to another PC volunteer (Francesca, in the picture) who took me on a picnic/hike to the mountains the one day I had in town.

Francesca and I boarded a rickety school bus at a ridiculous hour in the morning with a bunch of excited Kazakh teenagers.

The hike was put on by an organization called "Zhambyl Jastari" or, Zhambyl Youth. Zhambyl is the name of the province in Kazakhstan that Taraz is the capital of.

It could definitely be considered a cultural experience, as I had expected a hike through the mountains and a bit of salad and bread for a picnic, and instead we practically built our own restaurant out there.

Someone brought a cauldron, someone started a fire, and all the women set to chopping the vegetables. Half an hour later we had stew, we had salad, we had all the usual picnic fare, fried vegetables. More variety than your average Urumqi restaurant.

Back in town after the hike I enjoyed a last trip to a western-style cafe, a last croissant sandwich before crossing back.

Ah, Kazakhstan. The wonders of west and east, all in one package.

Runnin' from the law...again: Shymkent, Kazakhstan

Shymkent is another city in Southern Kazakhstan, something of an urban center in the region. By Chinese standards it's pretty small and peaceful, and the complaints that some of the Peace Corps volunteers there had were not even things that crossed my mind. Dirtiness? I thought the streets were sparkling. Rude drivers? The fact that more than one driver stopped to let me cross the street indicates politeness taken to a bizarre extreme. Creepy men? Ha, they've got nothing on what I've seen on this side of the border.

I liked Shymkent, but unfortunately spent most of my time there inside the police station trying to get my registration sorted out. If I earned a nickel (or even a mao) for every hour I have spent waiting in police stations to be registered, I could probably buy myself a lifetime supply of laghman. Anyway. It did all get worked out.