2013.07.31 — Wednesday

Bit of a late start. We were awoken by sirens which sounded briefly by passing police cars. We do not know what they were trying to communicate. Perhaps they knew it was time for us get back on the road. We headed toward Atyrau at a slow pace, though navigating the terrain was simplified by daylight. It was Camel country, and we stopped to show them our Kazakh pride.

Kazakh camels are unsure of Jon Hay.

Kazakh pride.

Atyrau was not at all as we imagined. Once we crossed into the city, all of the roads were perfectly paved. It was a very clean, open, and well-manicured city. Cars drove relatively slowly and respected pedestrians. Parking was ample. Freshly painted lines clearly marked the spacious lanes.

We had business in Atyrau. One reason the Kazakh crossing was so painless is that they make you register your presence at a police station within the country. Failure to do this in a timely fashion results in a hefty fine upon exit. Hotels also claim the ability to register you, so we walked over to one of the biggest. There we learned that hotels were only authorized to do this for their guests. The hotel directed us to a police station, which directed us to another police station, which directed us to yet another police station on the other side of town. We parked near station three and were directed to walk around to the other side of the building. Down an alley and through a playground we went. All we could find was a half-open rusty door in a high concrete wall. Peaking through, we saw some steps leading up a back entrance. This could not be right, but it was the only other way in. We encountered two cigarette-smoking men in a small room at the top of the stairs. We showed them our passports. They talked amongst themselves jovially and finally sent us through to a little waiting room, where we spent much of the afternoon. The police said we needed a hotel reservation in Atyrau in order for them to complete the registration. Of course we did not have this. A woman in line knew a few words of English and managed to communicate to the police that we were driving to Almaty, where we hold our required hotel reservation. It was hot and frustrating, but we eventually got our passports stamped.

Next we needed auto insurance, which we’d been driving without since our EU insurance expired in Romania. We figured out the name of the company we needed, “Nomad”, but could not find their office. We approached a travel agency in order to find some English speakers. They explained that we could get insurance next-door, so we tried this. English was not among the next-door amenities, so two gentleman who appeared to be nurses called an English speaking friend to translate. This was not a place where auto insurance could be purchased, but they were able to name the street we needed for Nomad Insurance. They suggested we follow a taxi there, but the price for the taxi was insanely high, so we declined. We found the street and then found Nomad, just before closing time. The next part was easy. They asked for our registration, our passports, and our US drivers licenses. Boom, they produced an insurance document, rendering us legal drivers in Kazakhstan for the next month. And what does a month of auto insurance cost in Kazakhstan? $10.

We decided to find better driving conditions in the North when we learned that this less direct route would be quicker than our intended route on account of the deteriorating roads. The roads definitely improved just North as Atyrau. We exhausted our remaining daylight and set up camp at dusk. From our folding chairs beneath the stars, we polished off a little wine before retiring to the tent.

Camp Kazakh II.