Alright, thank you so much. I can be driven to the address. But I'll be there around 5-6 in the evening.
Address: Toleu Aldiyarov 6, Sazdi District.
Thanks again.
Alexey, sorry for the silly question. But could you tell us a little bit about yourself so we know who we'll be spending the night with? How old are you, where are you from, and so on?
I'm 29 years old, divorced. I'm from Moscow, lived there for 10 years, worked in the restaurant industry as a waiter, bartender, and manager. Originally from Crimea.
That's all good, we'll be waiting.
While we were driving, I spotted a couple of sports stores and a bus stop in the city of Aktobe, where I definitely needed to stop by.
As promised, I arrived at six in the evening. Timas, a tall Kazakh guy of average build, greeted me and helped with my belongings by taking one of my backpacks.
When I entered the apartment, I was greeted by two more guys, Arthur and Baubek. Arthur is not tall and slender, while Baubek is of the same height as Timas but more athletic. It's evident from all of them that they are native Kazakhs.
They fed me and served tea, just as they promised. I shared my little story and what is happening at the borders. I talked about my future plans, my thoughts of traveling to India, but for now, I haven't resolved the issue related to visa payment. The guys said they study at a medical university, and I immediately understood that there must be Indians studying there who could potentially help me with visa payment through their card. I asked the guys if they could introduce me to the Indian students, and Timas said that tomorrow they would take me to the building where the Indians study and introduce me to someone who can assist me.
By 10 o'clock in the evening, we were still sitting, chatting, and getting hungry again. Arthur and I went to the nearest shawarma place. When we entered, it was packed. With that many people at this hour, it was evident that the food was really good. We ordered four shawarmas and two two-liter bottles of Coca-Cola. I paid for the order, thanking the guys for providing me accommodation. With our order in hand, we returned home to the guys.
After finishing the shawarmas, we continued our conversation. The guys told me that they are being evicted from this apartment due to an increase in the number of tenants and rising rent, which they cannot afford. Arthur said he would move back to the dormitory, while Timas and Baubek would rent a one-bedroom apartment for the two of them. I was surprised by the behavior of the apartment owners, but the guys were still willing to help people like me. Before going to sleep, I took a shower and went to bed in the bedroom they gave me, while the three of them slept in the living room.
September 29st.
The next day, Arthur helped me to get to the building where the Indian students study. First, we went to the guys who had a class. Arthur went into the classroom and asked the professor when there would be a break so that I could talk to the guys about my visa payment question. He granted permission but said we would have to wait for about half an hour, and to avoid waiting in the corridor, we could sit in his office.
We entered a small office opposite the classroom, with a model of the human body in each cabinet and posters detailing the organs of the human body. Overall, it was quite an intriguing read.
As soon as the class ended and the guys were free, we approached them, and I began stating my request.
Guys, I need help with paying for my visa to India. I was told you could assist me.
We are not from India, but from Pakistan.
Oh, I apologize. Have a good day.
Same to you.
Pakistan and India have had a long-standing armed conflict between them, but it is mostly on the political arena. Outside their countries, Pakistanis and Indians interact with each other normally. Even in India, I have heard from Indians that Pakistanis are good people, and these wars mostly benefit politicians.
After that, Arthur and I headed towards the Indian hostel, but before we reached the hallway, we bumped into a guy who was already in his final year, and Arthur was certain he was from India. So we approached him and introduced ourselves. His name is Jim. He was slender, of average height, wearing a suit and shoes. You couldn't immediately tell he was a student; he looked more like a young professor.
I'm planning to go to India, and I need help to pay for the visa.
Yes, of course, I can help.
Arthur hurried off to his classes when he realized we had found the right person. Jim and I tried a couple of times to pay for the visa using his card, but unfortunately, it didn't work. After that, he told me not to worry and invited me to go with him. Leaving the building, we headed to the hostel where his compatriots lived. The slight drizzle outside didn't seem to want to stop.
At the entrance of the Indian hostel, we were greeted not only by a 55-year-old Slavic-looking female guard but also by a multitude of mixed scents and aromas of spices. The guard was so surprised to see a white person in the hostel accompanied by an Indian that she bombarded us with numerous questions: who, where, why, and what for? While answering her barrage of questions, I also faced a flurry of inquiries from passing Indians who stopped to ask my name, where I was from, and what I was doing there. I was fortunate to have Jim with me. He did his best to help me fend off these questioning people while simultaneously calling up all the guys and asking if they or their relatives had an AXEL bank card.
In the span of an hour, we attempted to make the payment more than a dozen times, but all our efforts were in vain. I never found out the reason, but it seemed that I didn't need a 5-year visa to India after all.
I thanked everyone who had participated and apologized to Jim for taking up so much of his time, and he apologized in return for not being able to help me. I saw how much he wanted to assist me, gathering more and more of his fellow countrymen to my cause, even approaching people who were just passing by, and they all tried their best to help me. It was very heartwarming, and it seemed that such gestures could only happen in India.
After bidding farewell, I headed back to the apartment to collect my belongings and say goodbye to the guys. I walked through half the city to "Sportmaster" to check the prices of backpacks, being confident that they would have them in stock. However, just like in Uralsk, the shelves with backpacks were practically empty, and the one-hundred-liter backpack didn't suit me. Although all my things would fit in such a backpack, and it would be easier to move around with one sturdy backpack instead of two smaller ones.
While strolling through the shopping center, I searched for transportation to Zhitikara and thanks to Instagram, I learned that my friend and former colleague Maxim was currently in Aktobe. We used to work together at the "Pino" restaurant in Moscow near Patriarshiye Prudy. I met up with Maxim at the food court in the shopping center. We exchanged stories about our recent days and how we crossed the borders.
Maxim managed to leave the country only on his second attempt because he wasn't allowed to exit due to a small debt. He had to return to the city to settle that debt before heading back towards the Kazakhstan border. I couldn't even imagine the emotions he must have experienced. His further plan was to fly to Saudi Arabia for work and then go to Brazil for a while.
For me, it was simple: first, reach Zhitikara, and then decide where my desire would take me in India. After we said our goodbyes, I went to the nearest bus stop to inquire about the bus schedule. But, just like in Uralsk, there were no buses, and no one could give me a proper answer about the possibility of taking a bus. Carrying my two backpacks, I returned to the shopping center and continued posting in Telegram that I was looking for a ride to Zhitikara or Kostanay.
I was already considering reaching out to the guys I stayed with and asking them about accommodation for another night, but a miracle happened, and at half-past five in the evening, I received a long-awaited message from the driver.
Hello, I have a car going to Zhitikara.
Good day, how much?
20,000 tenge, leaving right now.
20 is not for me… Maximum is willing to pay 15.
Okay, let's go.
Alright.
Where are you?
I'm at Keruen City Mall.
I'll be there in 15 minutes.
Alright, I'm waiting.
The driver arrived after half an hour, and I had started to think that he wouldn't come. I quickly went downstairs, and we set off for Zhitikara. It turned out he was a taxi driver, and he was transporting a client who also needed to go to Zhitikara, so he didn't mind taking a fellow traveler.
We departed from Aktobe at half-past six in the evening, embarking on a 600 km journey. I mapped out the route to Zhitikara and saw that it would take us 10 hours, but the driver was convinced that we would arrive in 6, maximum 7 hours. I informed Andrei and Masha that I had gotten into the car and, based on the driver's assurances, would reach Zhitikara by midnight.
I couldn't shake off the thought of how slim the chance was to find a car that would take me directly to the city I needed, which was off the beaten path and inaccessible by transit. Zhitikara was 80 km away from the main road.
More than half of the journey was accompanied by rain, and time was nearing midnight while the road still stretched ahead. At three o'clock in the morning, we finally approached Zhitikara, and it started snowing. By the way, it was only September 30th! Eventually, I was dropped off right at the entrance only by 4 o'clock in the morning.
Andrei hadn't really slept during this time and was waiting for me, for which I'm truly grateful. It turned out that apart from me, another guest from Russia had arrived that night. He was already asleep, so our introduction was postponed until morning. Andrei prepared a mattress for me on the floor in the same room where the stranger was sleeping. So, I quickly freshened up and collapsed into sleep after an incredibly long journey.
September 30st.
In the morning, I got acquainted with a stranger named Vitya. He is 25 years old and slightly taller than me. He doesn't drink or smoke and has never used anything like that, a sporty guy. We bonded over this topic since I myself am not interested in such things. The only thing I occasionally allow myself is to have one or two cans of beer, and I used to smoke a hookah occasionally, once or twice a month, but it already feels like a past life to me.
Neither Vitya nor I have ever used any form of drugs. Mainly because I knew myself and understood that what I like would be very difficult to quit. So I decided not to start that game.
Vitya and I took on the responsibility of cooking and buying groceries since we were staying with the guys for free. Thank goodness, I knew how to cook and enjoyed it. After breakfast, Vitya and I went to the Centralized Service Center (CSC) to obtain Individual Identification Numbers (IIN), and I hoped that I would succeed on my second attempt.
After we finished submitting the documents, we walked around the city with the guys during the day, and in the evening, we watched a movie together and smoked a hookah, everyone except Vitya, of course.
After the movie, we discussed our future actions. I shared my thoughts on where and how I planned to travel and asked Masha and Andrei about a hundred questions regarding hitchhiking since they had been doing it for a while. The guys told us about how they communicate with drivers, where they look for accommodation, and which mobile services they use.
I was confident that I could travel by hitchhiking alone, but an internal feeling told me that it would be better to travel as a pair, so I offered Vitya to join me. He agreed without much hesitation. It was his first trip abroad.
On that day, Vitya asked me to call him Richard instead of Vitya, although he didn't want to explain the reason. It was very strange and incomprehensible to me. A person hiding behind someone else's name and unable to explain the reason didn't inspire trust, and it was the first sign of concern for me.
Masha and Andrei were also considering warm countries in Asia, particularly starting with India. We began planning our trip that evening. First and foremost, we focused on the price of plane tickets, and the best price for a ticket to India was from Tashkent on October 30th. This meant we still had a whole month before the trip to India. Before purchasing the tickets, we needed to apply for visas and pay for them. Knowing the approximate date of departure, we decided to start submitting visa documents the next day.
If nobody minds, I would like to introduce you a little more closely to Masha and Andrei and also tell you how I met them.
In late August 2022, my colleague Anastasia and I flew to Kyrgyzstan for about a week to explore the nature and countryside of the country. In Bishkek, we rented an SUV for our mountain trip.
Since I didn't have a driver's license, Anastasia was behind the wheel throughout the entire vacation, so I suppose only my time off could be considered a full-fledged vacation. Well, I didn't have the time or the need to get a license. Sometimes, there's a certain advantage in that.
On the sixth day of our vacation, we reached the Barskoon Gorge, where we picked up a couple from Kazakhstan along the way. The Barskoon Gorge is one of the most beautiful mountainous places in Kyrgyzstan, with numerous stunning waterfalls. After Anastasia and I hiked to one of the waterfalls, she was already a bit tired and wanted to turn back. I didn't want to give up; I still had enough energy, and I planned to reach the remaining two waterfalls with their beautiful names: "Champagne Spray" and "Tears of the Snow Leopard."
I continued the ascent up the mountain. At first, it was relatively easy, with plenty of trails, but the higher I climbed, the steeper the incline became, the trails became scarce, and the solid ground gave way to loose soil. At some point, I veered off the correct trail and ended up on a less popular and riskier path leading upwards.
For the second time in my life, the Maps.Me app let me down. It works well in offline areas, but sometimes it glitches and can lead you astray, which happened to me once again. I decided not to turn back and instead continue along this, so to speak, path upwards.
I was dressed in long pants, a t-shirt, a cap, and had a camera slung across my chest. The sun was scorching mercilessly, and there was no shade anywhere nearby. I began to realize what a huge mistake I had made by starting the ascent without water, and it was too late to turn back. The trail I needed was running parallel to the one I was climbing, but there was no way to cross over; everything was densely overgrown with shrubs.
Exhausted and thirsty, I spotted a thin stream of water trickling down a sheer cliff directly ahead. Glinting on a rock, it offered a glimmer of hope. Continuing my ascent towards the water, I encountered a large rock blocking the path, and there was no way around it. Without much thought, I began to scramble up it, gripping the edge and pulling myself up. As I felt my grip slipping and started to slide, I realized that I would be rolling down at a steep angle for quite a distance. I don't know where I found the strength at that moment, but my fingers clung to the rock as if it were my last chance, allowing me to complete the ascent.
After ascending a little further, I came across a small stream trickling down a rock. I could only cup my hand under the thin stream of water, but it was more than enough at that moment. After quenching my thirst and splashing water on my face, I continued on. I had just a couple of meters to reach the sheer cliff from which the water flowed. My plan was to walk alongside it in the direction I needed to go, so I could reach the proper trail leading to the upper waterfall.
Almost reaching the sheer cliff, I scanned for the trail I desperately needed and spotted a tent with two people nearby. They were at least a hundred meters away from me, if not more. It made sense to assume that there must be a trail somewhere near them, or they could provide directions on how to reach it. The goal was clear; I just had to reach them. There was only one path, straight through a hundred thorny bushes, and I couldn't find any other way.
The prickly barriers didn't intend to let me pass without souvenirs. They lightly scratched my hands, ensuring I wouldn't forget about this path. Approaching the guys, the first thing I said after greeting them was:
Do you have any water? Or better yet, an empty water bottle?
The guys gave me water and cookies, offered breakfast and tea, but unfortunately, I couldn't stay long. Anastasia and the couple from Kazakhstan were waiting for me below, and I still had to finish the ascent.
I told them about my relatively easy route to this point, and I was shocked by how they managed to climb such a steep and loose surface with their backpacks. Even without a load, some parts were challenging for me, but I had a slightly different trail. I descended along the path they had ascended. It was somewhat easier, but still not an easy task to conquer such an ascent with a backpack.
After chatting with the guys, we exchanged contacts and Instagram handles so that I could follow their journey, as I was interested in how they traveled hitchhiking. I continued upward with an empty water bottle that had clearly seen better days.
That's how I met Masha and Andrey, who saved me from thirst on that scorching day in the mountains and, less than a month later, provided me with shelter and support during a difficult time for me.
Now, let's go back to Kazakhstan.
October 1st.
In the morning, as planned, we all started filling out the visa application for India together. This time, like everyone else, I applied for a one-year visa instead of five years. Masha had money on her local card, so after completing the application, she tried to pay for the visa along with Andrey. The payment was accepted for both of them on the first attempt without any issues.
While Masha and Andrey went to visit Masha's relatives, Vitya and I headed to the ATM as soon as we finished filling out the forms. We needed to deposit the required amount into Masha's bank card to pay for our visas.
After depositing the money onto the card, we went home. As we walked through the courtyard, we stumbled upon a group of ten-year-old kids. They were sitting on the ground in a circle, energetically playing with chips. I couldn't believe my eyes. The chips they were using were exactly the same as the ones I played with in my childhood.
Seeing our interested faces, they proudly showed off whose chips were cooler and who had more than the others. It felt like I was immersed in my childhood during those few minutes spent with them.
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