Today’s lesson: Kazakh policemen are some of the nicest people in the country. Chocolate croissants from Kazakh gas stations are surprisingly tasty.
Ending Point: N47°07 E51°55
Distance Traveled: 236.9 miles
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There are so many wonderful things about traveling with a big convoy. Getting a timely start in the morning/early afternoon after a party is not one of them. It must have been 2:00 or 3:00 PM by the time we rolled out of Astrakhan, but we made it out of the city eventually and on our way towards the Kazakh border. The unmarked and slightly confusing roads were a hint of what lay ahead, but we enjoyed traveling over a floating bridge to cross a river that we followed south then north then south again before making the turn that led to forward progress. Just before the border, we made a shockingly efficient gas stop (though I’m sure it did not seem that way to the Russian family waiting for a pump behind us). While all of the passengers got out of their cars and meandered about as usual, the drivers took care of business until George of Sitting Thunder pulled out the megaphone and encouraged, “Please return to your vehicles! Please return to your vehicles!” A-ha, the organization/cat-herding we had needed all day! We arrived to lines at the border on the Russian side and took it as an opportunity to play with our convoy. The Frisbees, footballs (in both the American and British senses), and GoPros came out, and we no longer cared about the lines. To advance the Panda in line, Charla even attempted driving! With ease, even though everyone was filming, she put the Panda into first gear and inched forward. When she didn’t stall, the cameras went away and the toys came back out until it was our time to cross. After officially leaving Russia and a fairly long no-man’s-land, we arrived on the Kazakh side of the border. Even though the border guard found Charla’s passport too thick and annoying, we were soon into Kazakhstan and a whole different phase of the Rally. The road quality changed immediately, and we found ourselves faced with some sizable potholes, broken pavement, and uncertainty with directions (not to mention with the animals being herded past). The Cads had struggled with clutch issues for most of the Rally, and the first 100 kilometers into Kazakhstan were no exception. We trailed behind as they made it to a mechanic, who upon inspecting the situation, pulled out their snatched clutch cable. Unfortunately, the mechanic did not have a replacement nor was one available for some time. Three aggressive, homophobic Russian young men got involved as well and kept asking us for iPhones, which they argued would also be a payment for the clutch cable, though they had no relationship to the Kazakh mechanic. So, we got out of town without a clutch cable for the Cads but with everything else luckily intact. The sun was setting as we dealt with the difficult situation, but the convoy agreed to push on to Atyrau that night. It was a late night of driving on some pretty iffy roads, but we made it with the help of walkie-talkie conversations and a bag of chocolate croissants. Today’s lesson: Kazakh policemen are some of the nicest people in the country. Chocolate croissants from Kazakh gas stations are surprisingly tasty. Starting Point: N46°80 E48°00
Ending Point: N47°07 E51°55 Distance Traveled: 236.9 miles
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The coach dropped us off around 12:30 AM at Heathrow at terminals 1-3, where it is also possible to take a train to terminals 4 and 5. Unfortunately, the train doesn’t run late at night/early in the morning, so we were stuck in that part of the airport for a few hours. Many folks had already found their places among lines of chairs. Clearly, none of these people had explored the terminal before setting up, as a short walk led us to the plush British Airways first class check-in waiting area, where we spent the night The hours passed quickly, and soon we were boarding our Alitalia flight to Roma in the mass of a most confusing queue/herd of people. The British attempted to queue neatly, but the Italian passengers made sure that didn’t happen. After a short flight to Roma that took us on a scenic journey over the Alps, we boarded an even shorter flight to Trieste that took us over the Adriatic Sea. Landing in Trieste, we discovered a herd of interestingly dressed people, who we later heard were en route to a music festival in Croatia. [Again, note to selves: Research festivals nearby.]
A drive along the coast brought us into the gorgeous city of Trieste, whose architecture is a mixed salad of Italian and Austro-Hungarian Imperial seaside styles. We admired the sea and the city while eating pizza after Charla checked in at the Trieste Joyce School. In true Italian fashion, our night ended with a walk around Piazza dell’Unità d’Italia and some gelato. |