Assey Plateau – Kazakhstan June 3-4 2012 (Part I)

I had left off the story after cycling to Lake Balkhash…and then took a bus back to Almaty because I decided to not try and die on the desert steppe next to a salt lake. In Almaty, I stayed with a fellow American that had lived there for quite awhile. Through “warmshowers”, I had met another fellow that helped me find a nice bike shop for repairs and plan for a little trip to the Assey Plateau. On the “Media” page you can watch the video entitled “Assey Plateau” of footage I took during these few days.

The first attempt (May 31), I had ridden for a day from Almaty. While riding around the city I had been having difficulties with punctures. From what I could see, it looked like the spokes were coming through and tearing open the tubes from the bottom. What was even unfortunate was the patches didn’t seem to hold.

Puncture #1 was right at a turnoff to head towards the plateau. This little guy INSISTED on helping me. No, I do not promote child labor.
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I make pretty good time after this puncture; a bit of rolling hills and then a little bit of down. Did make an ice cream stop and purchased some naan and other miscellany snacks to take to the plateau.

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Puncture #2. Well, I couldn’t repair it and blew off 4 patches before deciding to throw everything in the back of a car and pay $30 to get back to Almaty. It was very evident my spokes were eating my tubes. I now only had 1 tube left…and the sun is setting.

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After fussing with the bike and adding two cheap rubber rim strip tape and lining the rim with electrical tape x2, I head back out on June 3rd. Two days before my 33rd birthday. I had promised myself to spend my birthday the way I enjoy the most, alone in some amazing place.

June 3 2012
I take the bus about 20km before I had turned back the previous time. The weather is ominous…no rain, yet.

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There is about 30km from the bus station until the unmarked turnoff to the plateau. I only knew where it was by the mileage and the landmarks that were given to me by one of the Almaty pilots, Taz, that lives in the capital.

I am now on a nearly single land country road with minimal homes and some shepherds. By the looks of the road and the direction, I may be at the base of the mountains by nightfall. I collect water from a fresh spring and try to find a place to sleep for the night before the rain comes down.

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You’ll notice I am only carrying two panniers, as I had left a lot of my gear back in Almaty. There is no reason to carry double the weight for only a few days.
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The route at this point seems very similar to a National Park in the States. The trees begin to enclose around the road; the road begins to incline and become more narrow. It begins to sprinkle and because of the weather it’s getting dark much earlier than I had expected. To my surprise, I find a campsite next to large stream and a rock cliff. It will be my only campsite of my entire tour. I am usually very apprehensive about camping next to water because of the noise. Not so much about flash flooding, but because I can’t hear visitors over the sound of the rapidly moving water. But I take it anyhow. It’s beginning to thunder and lightening and decided I’d rather be dry for the night. This was actually one of the first lighting storms I camped in. It lit up the entire sky and the thunder bounced around the mountains.

June 4 2012
Morning, when everything is beginning to dry.
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A view of the water I camped next to. I slept to the left of it. It’s a morning of spotty rain mixed with warm sunshine when the clouds part. I have faith it will clear up.
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A look ahead.
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There is only about 15km of broken tarmac before I hit loose gravel and rocks. I was warned that the condition of the road would become pretty tough. Unfortunately the incline on the loose gravel caused me to get off and push. Little would I know that because of the lack of roads, I would be doing a lot of pushing. Descending the plateau, it would be more like slipping and crawling out from under my bike as it slips off trails. This would become one of the toughest terrains yet, but one of my most memorable experiences. It’s really one of the last times I felt so damn free and alive. There is something about being alone on a plateau, anywhere in the world, that really makes you realize how fortunate you are to be there, and living.
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One of the most common questions I get when giving public talks or even discussing this trip, is “What do you do when you get bored?” Like I’ve stated before, I’m not really sure if I know what “bored” feels like. I can do almost anything to keep myself entertained. As a child I used to get in so much trouble for day dreaming in school. Well, I’ve kept up the habit and if I could become a professional at sitting and dreaming, well…you get it. The plateau is a short ride and I took extra time to just really enjoy being out there alone, with less of a load than I usually carry.

Right before noon, I am higher than the tree line and everything opens up. The ascent up to the plateau really begins, the clouds part, and the warm sun is beating down on me. I see pastures, rolling hills, yurts, shepherds, livestock, and the tops of snow topped peaks. I am getting anxious of what waits for me at the top…it brings back memories of the previous summer that I spent in Kham, Tibet.

I’m greeted by a nice shepherd and a young boy. They must of seen me coming as they rode down the hillside to say, “Hello”. They were quite happy to hear I was an American, and not a Russian.

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From the looks of the map I only go up this one pass and I’ve arrived to the plateau. The map is an old Russian map and the “roads” are questionable once I get to the top of the pass.

During the ride up the pass I come by a herd of horses. I walk over to not spook any of them and snap a few photos. They begin to move but a few actually approach me and start checking me out. I have a couple get closer than a meter to me. At the top of the pass I spot some pretty adorable cows and horses; awarding them with the “cutest cows of tour”. They approach me like the horses but even more odd they FOLLOW ME on my bike! Over the past couple of months I’ve noticed I am having less problems with animals. I’m wondering if they sense something about me…perhaps I am becoming more like them than I can imagine. I no longer spook animals and they look and approach out of curiosity. Wondering what has changed that allows animals to feel safe and comfortable around me. I feel no different but obviously something has changed that animals and I have some sort of connection.

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Making it to the top of the pass and now it’s just full, luscious, green plateau that lies ahead. Of course doing what I love to do, and do best, sit and enjoy the moment. Realize how fortunate I am to be seeing and living such a gorgeous moment. A moment that I could never describe in words on a blog. Perhaps that is why I haven’t written about this ride yet; it was just such a great few days that writing it down could never do it justice.

I hit a point where I have to make a choice on route. To my right, East-Southeast, there is a weather station that heads towards the mountain ridge. My map is questionable with this and I never heard anything on directions with the weather station. It is marked on the map. If I were to head towards the weather station, I would probably have to go over the ridge and head a little South.
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To the the left, or rather, directly in front of me facing East-Northeast is an open plateau with jeep tracks. The route to the weather station does have a road so I choose the road.

There is a road that leads up to the weather station but then disappears. I am then left with a deep jeep tracks in the rich black soil up towards the ridge. I’m really not sure if I’m going the right direction but continue on. It’s beautiful up here and what a place to spend the eve of my birthday. I’m feeling so amazing, refreshed, and really back to me…I take some time to celebrate the past year.
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The road and tracks disappear and I look back. I can see a half a dozen motorbikes followed by a jeep take a different route from the weather station. Up over some hills, with great speed, and then back down in the valley I had already passed. I will push on.

I push my bike for 3 kilometers through pasture, with occasional stones that may have been a driveway. Arriving to the base of the ridge I now know there is no passing it. There are remnants of a yurt camp, and it looks like people bring their Land Rovers up here to wash them in the ice melt. Leaving my bike behind, and camera, I climb half way up the ridge to take a look around. Take a deep breath, after catching it, and reassure myself it’s okay and I need to head back. There is no way going over the ridge and it’s been awhile since any Land Rover or motorbike has attempted over the ridge.

Walk down, pick up the bike, and backtrack. I usually HATE THIS…but this time it was down and had quite a beautiful world to look out at. There is a storm blowing in so I decide to set up camp and call it an early night. At the altitude, I know it’s going to be chilly and I want to be sure everything is set, and put away, before the storm comes in. I cook some pasta and add some delicious taco flavouring sent all the way in from Mom. It’s a fine fine meal.

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The sunset is breathtaking…perhaps the best I’ve seen since being in Tibet. Actually, the whole experience reminds me of Tibet. Maybe this is what is causing all these feelings and happiness. Guessing which routes to take, dodging storms, a little hail here and there, occasional nomads…simple life. It’s places like these that I always say, “I could die here and be happy.” Perhaps that sounds a bit macabre…but until you’ve been somewhere physically, mentally, and emotionally where you can sit down and say, “Wow…this is…”. There are no words to describe it. I can’t type anything here to explain what it’s like.

It’s been a hell of a way to say farewell to 33 and beginning 34.

Kazakhstan May 16 2012

I wake up to Jalabad’s fishing friend knocking at the door at 5:30.

Already having been up for 30 minutes, after hearing Jalabad’s phone ring over and over, I roll my loaded bike up to the door and greet him.

He makes an attempt to wake Jalabad but neither of them stir, so there are no goodbyes.

We walk to the road and wait in front of a little shop.

The first bus has no room for the bike and bags.

The second bus does.

His friend instructs where I am to get off at. Balhash, approximately 130km North.

The Russian drivers instruct me to sit in the first row, behind the current driver.

Within a few minutes, the driver pulls out a cd case. I notice his hands, wearing some pretty metal driving gloves…mesh and leather. His balding head and some mean lookin’ sunglasses.

By the look of the cd cover, I’m expecting some Norwegian metal.

If you know me personally, you may know I have a bit of passion for metal. I’ve been away from home awhile, and anything small, even if it’s not the type of metal I would prefer…it brings a nice warm feeling of familiarity to me.

I sit in my seat…thinking, “wow, I’m riding a bus through the Kazakhstan Steppe, with my bike in luggage listening to some intense metal…life is crazy”.

When we arrive to Balhash, there is some confusion of where I’m trying to go.

They think I’m continuing on, so after unloading, they load me back up. I hand them my map in the bus and after about a half kilometer, they realize I need to be let off now. I’m given an offer for a free ride to Astana…but I politely decline. My bus ride was free and the driver introduces himself, then I, with a thank you over a hand shake.

In Balhash around noon and I try to get directions to try to get to a small “town” North of the lake. I ask one man and he gives me directions, not in English, in Russian…but I make do at this point and can understand.

As I head in the direction…he pulls up in a car and tells me there is no road and I need to go back to Almaty and then come up from the East side. Okay, this is possible…could be very possible.

I go to a shop to buy supplies and tell them where I’m going, to see about their response. They seem to be familiar with the name and just kind of nod a “yes” and smile.

I go to another shop to do the same test. Same response.

So I decide to head out.

There are no signs to the road and it leads North and then towards the East.

Friendly Russians pass me in their cars. One stopping and asking, “Adventure”? I respond with yes. He hands be a big bottle of “Kvas” and a cold Vitamin C and tells me, “gift”. Holy shit, thanks!

I continue on and soon I can see the lake and there is no traffic except some local vehicles.

There is a headwind and at one point it catches my toilet paper on the front rack and before I know it I have 4 meters of white TP trailing behind me. I jump off with a few choice swear words and salvage what I can.

Only 2 small villages and about every 20 meters some sort of shed/shack that has some electrical facility. There seems to be some areas for growing plants as well, perhaps 3 or 4. I’m now questioning if this is going to turn into a service road of sorts.

After about 24 kilometers into this crappy headwind I see some abandoned concrete apartment buildings and offices ahead.

I can see, and hear, some construction going on. Trucks loaded with concrete and I can see a few people in a shell of a 5 story concrete building. Appearing to be very Chinese, I can see that they are taking down the old bricks and stacking them to be reused.

With a little more pedaling, I can see that this appears to be an old Soviet military base/testing area. Continue a little further on the crumbling road…and then…pass the base…and then…AND…THEN…

…THIS…

Here the road would be considered in “great condition”.

The temperature is in the low 40’s (C), being swarmed by mosquitoes and flies, and…and…hundreds of empty vodka bottles.

I sit on the side, in the sand, sweating…and think about what I could be getting into.

No traffic, no people…oh wait…a massive olive green military truck passes with 2 Russians…no water (a salt water lake), possibly at least 5 days without water/food, headwind, empty vodka bottles: drunks?, eaten by mosquitoes and flies, LOTS AND LOTS OF SAND.

Okay, maybe that guy was right about no roads…be smart Ellen, turn back. Screw your pride, love your life.

I turn back.

I’m waved down by a couple truck drivers that are curious of what I’m doing and after stumbling over my broken Russian I move on. I’ve got a hell of a tailwind and I’m pedaling over 30km/h.

About 5km up a car comes up to me. A man and woman, Kazakh. They insist to come back to where they are working and they will drive me to town. I can stay at their home for the night. They look about my age and decent folks. I insist it’s not a problem, I can do this…but they are very very insistent on me spending time with them

They are at the old military base breaking down the walls and salvaging the bricks.

We have a bit of a picnic, with 2 other men that are working with them.

One is a bit older and he makes me laugh, the other is a sex pest in the making. Asking me for kisses…peering at me behind corners asking for more kisses. No dude, you aren’t getting any kisses.

So, after some work…and the older dude getting shit faced on vodka…we head back.

In the car, I’m in between both men and the older one on my left is really truck and accidentally grabs me a couple of times. As he is really excited to be talking to me. He means well…I just laugh.

The OTHER dude gives me that handshake with the wiggling middle finger in the palm. I pull away and look at him sternly and let him know I do not appreciate it at all. No more games with this shit…I’m tired of it.

We have to pull over to let oldie vomit.

Arriving to a classic Communist apartment block, we go inside.

Wow, it’s very nice and has really warm feeling about it. The couple’s son arrives and he can speak a little English.

We have dinner and then I retire to the room with the tv. Mr kissy is in there and asks me for a massage. “No.” or rather “nyet”. He begins to beg and I ignore him with my constant “nyet”.

He finally gives up and actually apologizes to me. It’s time for sleep.

December 1 2011 – HongKaiZi to The Super Mario Brother’s zhusu

As soon as there was rustling about and the room was lit with sunlight, little sister and I went out back to the “cesuo” (toilet). I hate this type of morning, when my sides ache from the pain of holding my bladder. It feels as if it gets all blocked and takes a few minutes for my body to realize it’s time…to relax.

I can’t help but gazing towards the mountains during these few minutes. It’s cold and I can see the peaks of the little mountains. Damn, if it wasn’t so cold, and I was a little more insane, I’d ride my bike up there to take a look. Disappointed, as I imagine what that range looks like in the Spring – probably a fairly easy day ride with a nice camp. Not now, on December first.

Little sister and her husband wash up for the morning. Afterwards I’m led back over to her in laws for tea and hard breads. As she and I get ready, I get a couple of “how much did that cost?” Please, please…lets not play that game. It’s such a typical Chinese thing and I don’t find it among the minorities so much…please, don’t do this.

Her brother in-law is asleep in the corner. Three additional Kazakh men enter to join us for breakfast. They are quite nice and we go through all the basic questions and comments again. I still can’t get over how adorable her father in law is. Just adorable…in his thick army green pants.

The bread chunks are hard and you have to let them soak in the tea. The tea is different here. They add a yogurt to the milk tea. So there are little chunks of yogurt floating on top of the tea. Watching little sister, I see her scoop up the yogurt with the hard bread. I mimic, delicious.

We all head out, as it’s time for the family chores to be taken care of. Her husband heads out on his motorcycle, father is moving the sheep out of the stable, and mother begins her milking duties.

There is a litter of puppies behind the house. I can’t get over how adorable they are, with their snorting and crying. It’s hard for me not to ask if I can buy one. It’s too cold and they are too young…just would be cruel.

I spend some more time with little sister and I get a few more “how much did that cost?” questions. Okay. I can’t do this anymore.

She asks me if I’m going to stay another day and I just get a strange vibe that maybe I should go on. I know I’m welcome to stay but decide to tell her I will leave and see how she reacts. “No, I really should get going, it’s getting late.”

Not receiving a response that I sometimes get when people REALLY don’t want me to leave. I pack up and set out around 12am. With one final “how much did your bike cost?” Please, little sister…don’t do this to me……..

I give her a hug good-bye and push off. The mama dog decides NOW she wants to attack me. Hearing the barking getting louder I stop in my tracks and see her running towards me. Little sister runs to hold her back.

A wave from the tarmac and I’m off. Within a kilometer I pass her husband on his motorcycle, after putting the sheep to pasture, and I wave goodbye. Good-bye Mr. Handsome!

It’s a long day of riding up. Cold. Very little traffic.

I see the first sign of life around 3 in the afternoon. It consists of a tire fixing place and a restaurant.

Pulling the bike up to the restaurant, removing my sunglasses, and sliding my hat off, I make eye contact with the little toddler in the doorway. I say “Hello!” in my cute child voice for her. She smiles and goes in.

Two older Kazakhs walk out and they are very friendly looking at me and the bike. Harmless, wonderful, people.

I enter into a very old room with a small table and 4 chairs. The cooking area takes up half the space. There is a room to the right that has about 8 Kazakhs and children around a large table. The t.v. is on and some are sitting on the old iron framed bed.

The color palette of the place is browns, reds, dark yellows, and greens. Just a very dark place but I feel warm and the people seem welcoming.

I have a hard time communicating with the woman that’s cooking. I order fried noodles. The folks in the other room ask where I’m from. “I’m American”.
“Ohhhhh, American!” With smiles, nods, and just a feeling of acceptance.

The toddler and I are playing hide and go see around the table and other general child games of looking at each other.

A young man enters and takes a large tray of beef into the small room. When I say “tray of beef”..I mean…it’s basically broiled/roasted whole cow with the skin and organs removed. It actually looks and smells quite delicious.

About 5 minutes later he brings a big chunk out, about 12mm x 12 mm, sets it on a clean plate and drops it in front of me. He smiles, “Chi!”

The cook turns around and smiles while handing me a knife. Well, I guess I just go at it. I’ve had some training in Inner Mongolia and I try not to destroy such a beautiful hunk of beef.

As I cut into the meat, the juices drip down my hands and steam rising from the fresh cut. It may be one of the most delicious meals I’ve had.

My noodles are served with chunks of beef and hot green peppers.

I try to converse with the woman but there is a language barrier. She tells me that the road is mostly flat to the next city. I know to never really believe this stuff completely.

The place is warm and the people are kind. I take a deep breath and relax for a moment. Then filling up my water, I say thank you and head on my way.

From the km count she gave me, I will not be making it to the city unless it’s all downhill.

It’s not. I have a pretty damn good mountain pass to get over. Is it the cold? These climbs just drain me, not like when the weather is fair. I think about how this would of been nothing 4 months ago…but maybe the weather really does drain someone more than you would imagine. I push Nelly the last kilometer.

I’m holding the top of the pass for the remainder of the day…once again, as usual, racing for light.

I don’t know why I do this. Sometimes I think I should just set up camp in the snow but there is a part of me that just says, “keep going keep going, you’ll find something”. At the top of a pass, a nice 20rmb room sure does sound nice.

There is a truck stop on the side of the road. The only “zhusu” has all the windows broken out. I avoid staying where there are truckers like that anyhow. I take a little road down a hill towards a village. No luck. Power back up the hill, past a police station, see 2 officers taking a stroll and I pull clothing over my face. Less trouble.

The pass is a good 15km and I’m not really enjoying it. “Keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize”

Towards sunset I begin the descent. I hate descents in the winter and at sunset. It’s just so damn cold, although the sky is always the most beautiful. I’m trying to get to somewhere warm, take photos, and just not freeze. It’s quite a balancing act.

I’m freezing, it’s near dark and there is no traffic. Luckily, this helps me hold onto my night vision.

With about 10 minutes left of residual light, I spot a hand painted sign with something about “zhusu” and “1.5km”. Oh hell yes!

I pick up the pace and I see a restaurant with “zhusu” attached to it. It’s tucked into a wooded area with only an outhouse and some cows.

Of course they see me and greet me at the door.

“30rmb!? Really? Well, I guess I don’t have an option. Okay.”

We roll my bike into the room and they reassure me it will be warm, safe, no other company…and the sheets are clean. Okay.

In the restaurant, I order a couple of dishes. As I’m sitting there and I notice that these two men are not typical Chinese men. They remind me of 2 people, with their mustaches. Oh, it’s Mario and Luigi! of the Super Mario Bros. fame.

They don’t have rice so I’m given some breads. Cold bread. I only eat one but they insist that I take all the breads, “a gift”, for breakfast. I’m beginning to think that these men have a relationship – they are not brothers.

Sure, not going to turn down free breads.

Back to my room, it’s dark, I have only one candle to last me the night.

I curl up on top of one blanket and cover with 2. It’s silent. For the past couple of nights, all I hear is silence. I love it. The light begins to flicker, as the the flame extinguishes I can hear the sizzle.

Goodnight.

November 30th – Balikun to HongKaiZi (not really a place – 75km from Balikun)

The 29th was a rest and laundry day. The city was dead outside and I was fortunate to be in a quiet place to actually get good sleep. Eating instant noodles and packaged tofu, in hopes of forgetting the animal claw in my noodles. Ugh.

I forgot to mention that when I arrived at the hotel the day before, the ladies commented that my face was the same color of my red jacket. Yeah…I wonder what everlasting damage I’m doing to my skin. Oh well, whatever.

Thanking the ladies for a nice stay, one helps me with the loaded bike down the steps. Of course I can handle this myself but I just gp with it because helping hands are happy hands. Just don’t touch the Brooks.

Taking a deep breath, knowing I’ve got a good 140km+ to the next legit town. It’s already noon and I push off. Passing through the old part of town, I see a camel in someone’s side yard. Sometimes I see camels in the back of pickup trucks. There is something about the sight of this that always makes me smile…like, reaffirming that I’m in the magical land of Xinjiang.

I pass through some small villages, but I’m still skirting along the edge of the Gobi (China side) and the Tianshan Mountains, directly to my left (South). Desert and snow on both sides…don’t you find it strange…sand and snow…together? Makes you think of “hot” and “ice” – which really don’t go together. Oh China, you and your irony.

Lots of camels to the North (Gobi).

Tianshan mountains, fog (smog) to the South.

I now always carry 2 detailed maps of the province I’m riding – after being left in Tibet without a damn clue what I was doing. From the looks of my topo map I’ll be climbing for the next day and a half. All that means to me is more snow and colder. Yae!

Still in the basin and slowly rising, I look North to the Gobi – wondering where Mongolia starts. Then, realizing I have a very loyal riding partner, I take our team photo. I imagine I can see the Mongolia side of the Gobi, as there seems to be a rise out of the basin about 35-50km away.

At around 6pm, I begin estimating how many minutes I have until I need to set up camp. Now, I’m at a good altitude and it’s cold…back to frozen hands. The day is fairly uneventful, even minimal traffic.

I do pass an old Kazakh man on the side of the road with his massive hat and say “Hello” but he looks at me like I’m insane. Well, he did have some crazy dreads in his hair and looked like he had been living in a well…so maybe HE was insane. This is the only part of China (out of 16,000km) where I don’t get random “hello”s. Strange.

The day is coming to an end and near the highest point of the route I notice a white concrete building in the middle of nowhere. There is a telephone tower about 20 meters away and 2 motorcycles parked out front of the concrete establishment.

I pull in for food and hope to find a place to sleep. There is “zhusu” written above one of the doors.

A young Kazakh woman walks out as I pull up.

“You have accommodation?”, hoping she can understand and speak Mandarin. Most men can speak some Mandarin and women generally can’t.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Just one person?”
“Yes.”
“10rmb”
“Okay, can I put my bike into the room?”

She helps me push my bike into a cold room with a 2 meter long platform for sleeping/sitting/eating. In the corner there is a large cabinet. My bike is squeezed between the platform and the cabinet.

The corner near the door is a large drying rack and it’s loaded with meats. The room is dark, cold, and smells like a mix of cheese (not the Western kind) and beef jerky (again, not the kind I’m accustomed to). I take notice of the sausage? and inflated bladder hanging off the rack.

As I walk into the restaurant, an old Kazakh shepherd is walking out and he lets out a noise of surprise, and perhaps, joy. I smile, “hello”, and walk in.

There is a younger Kazakh man sitting in the dining area with no lights on. He’s drinking beer and eating his noodles, dressed in the big bulky pants that have been lined with animal fur.

I order my noodles and stand next to the coal stove that is near the door to the kitchen.

The noodle flavor is fantastic. It reminds me of the taco seasoning you get with your Ortega Taco Kit at the grocery store. Pretty much, delicious, and the best flavor I have yet experienced. The great thing about noodles in China is that you will NEVER get the same tasting noodles.

As I’m finishing, the room is growing darker and darker.

“Big Sister,” the girl looks at me.

I look up and she directs me to follow her. We walk through the kitchen, past the little area of small groceries consisting of cookies, candies, baijiu, cigarettes, and other miscellany, and enter through a door. Dimly lit with one fluorescent bulb.

She tells me the other room is too dark and to rest here in her home.

It’s very new looking and I am assuming she is a newly wed. There are wedding photographs above her bed, one Chinese style the other Kazakh style. The large platform is covered with carpets and a new white bed in the corner covered with a decorative red lace cover.

She directs me to the chair next to the coal stove.

I notice the embroidered pillows and the stack of blankets, everything appearing so clean and new. I’m making sense of everything and these must be wedding gifts. The Tibetans have similar piles, in the young couples homes and tents.

She sits on the platform and we go through the basic questions. It’s confirmed she is Kazakh and she is 23. Recently married, for 6 months, and grew up around Bali.

There are the random questions of “how much did that cost”. It’s a very Chinese thing to do and I got about a half dozen, I let it go.

She tells me the other room is too cold and I can live in her home, with her husband. That is very kind…it is quite warm and cozy.

I learn that most of the decorative embroidery and pillows have been done by her. I tell her I’m not very good and I ask if the blankets were wedding gifts, they were.

Her husband arrives, in his amazing boots and dark brown hair, combed to the side. He may actually be one of the most handsome men, and well groomed, I have seen in a very long time. A very western look in his face, gorgeous and masculine, I am trying to prevent myself from blushing. There is no way I’m going to get a photograph as I turn my eyes away from his. Shameful.

He smiles and I say hello. I am noticing that perhaps he can’t speak Mandarin, as she does a lot of the interpreting. He takes off his knee high boots, which seem very clean and new, and puts on some slippers. His boots are amazing – I would love to get a pair.

After a short rest I am asked to follow her to her in-laws. Not sure what was going on and kind of being dragged, I left my camera behind. Big mistake, not that anything happened to it, I missed some great photo opportunities. Lesson learned.

We enter a much older room, where I’m hit with the smell of the yogurt, cheese, and some meat. I smile. It’s much dirtier by comparison but more of what I am accustomed to.

There is a tiny old woman preparing some tea and cleaning up after dinner. There is an adorable little man sitting indian style on the platform with a tiny little kitten stretched over his leg. He smiles at me while continually petting the grey, sleepy eyed cat.

I’m invited to sit down for some tea. Little sister tells them about me. I am watching the kitten and the old man smiles and notices, I wonder if my smile was beaming that bright. He tosses the kitten to me. She is purring.

I’ve been wearing a piece of black cloth elastic, double wrapped around one of my fingers for weeks and I take it off to play with the kitten. She enjoys it a lot, as do I and the old man watching her. Before I started playing with her, she had curled up on my thigh with a loud vibrating purr.

After a little play, she scampers back to the man and plops on his lap. We both exchange a chuckle and smile.

The old woman is digging through a large sack filled with fur. She pulls out a stiff piece and starts crumpling it and rubbing it together, expressing to me that she is going to use it line the clothes. I tell her my mother makes clothes too, she smiles. She continues rubbing it together, to make the skin softer, letting me know how and why to do it.

Little sister’s husband arrives and his brother is in the corner. His brother is not so handsome.

We have some tea and chat. They are curious to know if Kazakhstan is like the Kazakh communities in China. I tell them I don’t know because I haven’t been yet. My assumption is that it’s not.

The room is decorated in Islamic pictures and embroidered pieces. I’m asked if I can read it and say no.

I ask little sister about the tourism in the area. In the summer, how many tourists come through. She says it’s hard to say, maybe 20 a day during peak season. “The Chinese come to climb the mountains”.

I’m not sure how we got here but we started talking about the minorities and the Han. Oh, yeah!, I expressed that I loved the Kazakhs and they were quite helpful and kind, along with other minorities. Also that there are some unfair things going on.

“What do you think about the Han”, asks little sister.
“Well, they are okay, I guess” with some other stuff I’d rather not discuss here. I use this line when speaking with minorities. Sometimes I will say more, depending on how politically sensitive I want to get and where I’m trying to get the conversation.

Before she asked this, the old woman had said something in Kazakh and had assumed that the mother wanted to know my opinion. Little sister translated what I said and the old woman beams one of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen. She nods yes while not taking her hands off the stiff animal fur.

Maybe I interpreted something wrong, but I could of sworn that they wanted me to stay another day and mentioned taking photographs. I was asked if I had a camera.

After the tea, it’s time for bed.

Little sister and her husband lie down some new blankets and pillows at the far end of the platform. It’s comfortable and warm.

I wake up around 2am and I could of sworn there was an alarm and a red light going off. The man gets up and adds coal to the fire. Wow, I don’t see this often in China. As I would say, “he’s got good home training”.

Not sleeping well because my bladder is full and I always get these horrible stabbing pains in my kidneys if I can’t take care of it. I will lie here in pain, switching sides until sunrise.

Little Sister

Momma, the next am, taking a break from milking the cows.

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