Oct. 28- Wind and incompetent officials

Location: Shymkent, Kazakhstan

We were still not sure if we had offended our hosts last night but the family was really nice in the morning, inquired if we had slept well and invited us in for a fantastic breakfast. They even offered us to drive us to the police station for our registration but we explained that the registration could be a lengthy process.

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR HOSPITALITY!!

The visit to the migration police office was a complete waste of time. The dull, lazy officer had no clue what to do with the slip of paper we were given at the border. We deeply disliked him from the start. He was one of those people who will not go one inch out of their way to help you, eventhough he was put in this office to do exactly that. Luckily, a young guy who spoke good English was also in the line up and he offered us his assistance. After much confusion and having to hand write a letter in English and Russian, begging the Director to register our passports, the officer with the most bored and dull look on his face passed the registration slips back to us but without the necessary stamp and signature. He ensured us though that we were now registered eventhough he had done nothing at all. I wont repeat the flowery language James described him with.

We had a real problem now since this was already day 4 in Kazakhstan with still at least 200 km to the nearest border crossing to Kyrgyzstan...and head wind.

We got on our bikes anyway hoping the wind would relax a bit over time. No. Eventually we had no choice but to hitch hike. After not too long, an empty meat truck picked us up. We could have gone all the way to Almaty with him but Taraz was far enough. The driver and his buddy were funny.
Along the way they stopped for a break by a row of little shacks by the road. Inside the one we were led into was a table covered with plates containing all sorts of not so fresh looking foods. Lots of meat, fried drum sticks, cold cuts, dry French toast, the crepes were okay etc. A road side buffet restaurant shack. We were encouraged to eat and enjoy. O no. Aside from the bread and toast everything was screaming "food poisoning" so we slowly munched on bread, buns and dry cake while the driver flirted with the shack owner who seemed to be rather flattered despite all the punches she gave him. We just sat there, bemused and bewildered.
The rest of the drive was lovely. The white mountains of Kyrgyzstan were in view now on the right. As much as we were annoyed at having had to hitch a lift, we were grateful because the road was aweful. We were dropped off 10 km out of Taraz and we found a camping spot next to a road side restaurant just down the street. Perfect. Well within reach of the Kyrgyz border tomorrow!