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After discussing our plans with the owner of the campsite in Zhagbaly we decided to drive from Taraz to Talas (not to be confused, they are across the border from one another). We left the campsite feeling relaxed and enjoying the landscape as we drove along.
The road wasn't great and the traffic slowed down to a crawl… I had thought it was due to the trucks struggling up the hill. As we came to the crest of the hill we saw the accident. A cyclist had been thrown from his bike. His team mate knelt on the ground beside him with his head in his hands, crying. I assume they were a semi-professional team as they wore Kazakh national colours and had uniforms and helmets (not usually worn by locals). One man was on his cellphone. All I could say for a minute was "O my God!" There was so much blood. Fintan suggested we stop and help, but as we got closer it was apparent the man had already died. The blood flowing from his head injury (even with a helmet) had pooled and flowed down hill for about 3m. His right leg was badly broken. I imagine the accident had occurred well before the 10 minutes we were driving up the hill.
It was horrific. I have never witnessed anything like it and I hope never to again. We stayed silent for the remainder of the drive.
We got to Taraz and found a place to stay in order to cross the border early… or that was the plan.
The hotel had not registered us, so at the border we were turned back to the immigration police station. After 2 hours we received our purple stamp and drove back to the border. I crossed out of Kazakhstan and into Kyrgyzstan no problems. But Fintan had to bring through the car… I waited in the shade by the truck search area. In the meantime a few of the customs officers sat with me and discussed where we were going, where they were from, whether Fintan and I were married (easier to say yes), whether we have children (always say next year), and learning some English from the Kyrgyzstani/English phrases in my guidebook.
After an hour or so Fintan made it into Kyrgyzstan. My new customs official friends filled in our declarations for us (all in Russian! We had no hope!) and we finally set off again on the road to Bishkek.
This was a beautiful route, and I can now understand why the campsite owner suggested it. The highlight of which was seeing a huge face of Lenin carved into the rock above a massive dam (pictured). Of the two main fears I have on this trip one is the potential for us to be involved in an accident like the one we saw yesterday; the other is that Fintan's megolamaniacial tendencies will be fuelled by what we've seen (he now wants a 12' statue rotating following the sun, a massive sculpture of his head on some major project, and a huge mausoleum).
We passed through a valley with mountains either side, yurts, nomadic herders, horses, cattle and sheep all around us. It was absolutely stunning. The only problem was the time pressure. We arrived into Bishkek at what we thought was 9pm… it was actually 10pm! Our reserved room in the guesthouse had been given away and we were taken to an apartment block that looked like something out of an apocalyptic movie. As we entered a family with a small child was being evicted. We opted to leave, thanking the guesthouse manager for trying to find us a room, and booked into the closest hotel we could find - a Hyatt. That may sound ridiculous, but to be honest by this time my nerves were shot and I was exhausted, I have a feeling Fintan was on the edge too. It has been a hard couple of days. Being turned back from the border and waiting in the registration office was the first time I really thought I wanted to give up and go home. Seeing the accident really pushed home how dangerous these roads can be, as well as being incredibly sad and distressing.
- comments
mum oh goodness, what a lot of emotion! The main thing you need on this adventure is patience, but also determination. Love Fintan's ambitions! Glad you got to Bishkek, hope the maps etc are there for you. xx
mum love this blog with the map, it's so easy to follow