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<\/a><\/p>\nThat breakfast turned out, however, to only be a minor precursor to the main meal, which was Laghman, the noodle dish we had so fallen in love with while in Kashgar and Urumqi<\/a>, the Central Asian part of China. Along with the Laghman were some more of those amazing Manty. It was all just too delicious and in too vast of quantities for us to resist eating beyond the normal limits. AsiaWheeling was being spoiled rotten here in Uzbekistan, so before we got soft, we figured we\u2019d better split.<\/p>\n It was time to go. \u00a0But, before we hit the road, we paused to take a few Uzbek style (no smiles allowed) group shots, and even a few portraits of the Yabukjanov team.<\/p>\n Feeling like we could not say thank you enough times, we finally climbed on the bikes and headed toward the Kazakh border. It was less than a 10 km wheel and we made short work of it, stopping once to ask for directions from a fantastic trio of gentleman, who were in true Uzbek style, delighted to give us directions and eager to engage for as long a conversation afterward as we could spare time.<\/p>\n When we finally apologized, explaining we had a Kazakhstan to get to, they asked us to autograph one of their 1000 cym bills, which, being what I believe is the first autograph request of the entire trip (outside of legal documents), we were more than happy to do.<\/p>\n And off we went, pounding through the Uzbek countryside, growing ever closer to our next post-Soviet country.<\/p>\n When we reached the border, cab drivers clustered around us, warning us that foreigners would not be able to cross here, explaining that we would need to drive to another border crossing 50 km away. We thanked them for their advice, and explained that we would like first to hear it from the border officials, and then we would come back and talk cabs.<\/p>\n Sure enough, it was corroborated by the officials, who were, while delivering negative news, generally very upbeat and positive guys, already laughing out loud at our bizarre bicycles, and doubly so at my Russian. I began to realize that I must sound like the American version of Borat to these people. And they loved it.<\/p>\n So after some thorough bargaining and some calling of Shoney on the Beeline<\/a>, we climbed into a cab and headed for the next border crossing. \u00a0As we drove, I made good friends with the fellow who drove us. When we arrived, he hustled to make sure all was in order and to shoo away any con artists and beggars who appeared out of the woodwork.<\/p>\n \n We had changed the rest of our \u0441\u0443\u043c back to USD with Shoney, so we had to pay the fellow in a few thousand sun and a couple US dollars. He seemed happy enough.<\/p>\n Here too the officials were delighted to see us, and confirmed that indeed \u201cInestranetz\u201d could pass through. And so we wheeled the bikes on, towards the Uzbek customs station, which was no small walk from the road.<\/p>\n When we arrived, we found the entire thing to be a maddening cluster bomb of people and screaming. By trial and error, we were able to figure out the system, which for any of you who would like to, in the future, cross between Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan in the area of Khodzha-Khan, here is how it goes:<\/p>\n Proceed past the long line of people and enter the central area, underneath the rusty gas station-style overhang, where all the broken and upside-down tables are, and proceed to the edge of the metal barrier. Make like the locals and scream at the top of your lungs at the official who paces just three meters away from you and eyes the queue. He will pretend not to notice. That\u2019s fine. He actually is registering your screams. Continue the screaming narrative, emulating the people around you, and state your name and the country that issued your passport. If you are an American, this will interest him and he will make a vague hand gesture at you. This gesture will mean \u201cis your friend over there an American too?\u201d You may tell the truth or not here, I\u00a0believe.<\/p>\n He will then flag down a short heavyset woman, who will be rushing by carrying a giant stack of papers in one hand and a billy club in the other. She will give you six copies of a form. \u00a0Luckily, they are bilingual: in Russian and Uzbek. Divvy them up with your friend. Fill out all three using the upside-down tables with the pens that you forgot to bring. Good luck — the forms will not be easy.<\/p>\n Now get in line with all the other people, and watch as newcomers to the line blatantly cut you, climbing over your folding bicycles and getting in front of you, sometimes actually pushing you backward a bit to make room for themselves. The recommended strategy here is to position the folding bicycles as a kind of crowd barrier, and to fend off people with nasty looks and seemingly inadvertent knocks with your pack.<\/p>\n Listen for the screaming at the front of the line, because this means another group is being let into the main inspection \u00a0room. Keep your wits about you. Right after the screaming is when you\u2019ll be cut the most, usually by old women carrying hundreds of shopping bags, who gain temporary superhero agility and spring like tree frogs over you and your bicycle.<\/p>\n Finally you\u2019ll get into the room. It will be hot inside. Everyone will need to get their luggage scanned, except for you. This is normal for Americans. Everyone else will need to wait in line, but not you. Those who cut you previous in line will look upon you with equal parts distaste and confidence that they will complete the process before you. \u00a0Smile. \u00a0You will get a special officer dedicated to your case, and he will very diligently not check any of your paperwork or luggage and flag you through with all politeness. Meanwhile others will be pushing each other in line and the same woman who gave you the paperwork will be beating a fellow mercilessly for pushing an old lady ’til she fell down.<\/p>\n It will be raw, but soon you\u2019ll be in Kazakhstan. \u00a0As many an ex-Soviet spin class instructor has shouted over thumping music: \u00a0“You’re not yet halfway there.”<\/p>\n Kazakh customs will be much cleaner, whiter, fancier, and with more hawks all over everything. The hats on the heads of the boarder guards will grow threefold.<\/p>\n The line will be very short, the forms will be small and in English, and the Kazakh border official will stamp your passport, underlining that you must register with the Kazakh OVIR office within five days to avoid a $100 fine.<\/p>\n As\u00a0official\u00a0literature has indicated, he should be able to register you upon entry. \u00a0However, he will not do so. \u00a0If you ask him\u00a0whether\u00a0or not the registration office will be open on Friday, he will look at you as if you are suffering from some terrible abnormality and dismiss you with “of course.” \u00a0This is, in fact, false. \u00a0None of this concerns him. \u00a0It only concerns you. \u00a0He will then sneeze magnificently all over your passport and send you on.<\/p>\n \n Now that was easy; this next part will be hard. Pass through the green channel, marked \u201cnothing to declare\u201d then proceed over to the scanning station. Put your things on the conveyor and begin chatting about Kazakhstan in Russian with the guards. The men working the customs desk will teach you the name of the Kazakh president. Remember it. They will test your memory at the end of the conversation.<\/p>\n \n They will also request you to take a picture of them.<\/p>\n Do not <\/em>do so. \u00a0The picture is part of an entrapment scheme. For when you leave, another armed guard will refuse to let you out of the immigration complex until he\u2019s scrutinized your camera to see if you took any pictures of the interior of the customs hall.<\/p>\n Luckily, we did not fall for the trick.<\/p>\n They will also ask you if you’ve seen the movie<\/a><\/em>. \u00a0The answer is: “What movie?”<\/p>\n Everyone had described Kazakhstan to us as the Europe of Central Asia, as the richer, fancier, more cosmopolitan place. We were about to see how much water that theory held. All we really hoped was that the Internet would be a little faster.<\/p>\n Outside the customs hall, it looked basically like Uzbekistan, women were hounding us to change money and cab drivers were asking astronomical prices to drive us into Shymkent. We finally managed to bargain a decent price to share a black VW station wagon with a bunch of Kazakh women into the city.<\/p>\n However, after driving for some time, the driver of our cab attempted to pull the old Jordanian switch on us (which we might from now on just as rightly call the Kazakh switch). He was suddenly doubling the price! And as I attempted to bargain with him, he simply began muttering and shaking his head, blinking long and hard in a way that seemed unsafe while driving. Yap as I would, I couldn\u2019t get him to respond. Then suddenly I realized that the muttering was some kind of prayer that he was saying in Arabic. So I shut up and let him finish. Later, after silence had reigned for a while, when I started to re-enter the negotiation, he just started again muttering over my talking.<\/p>\n It was, of course, ridiculous childish behavior, but we were in his car now, and so I looked back at the women we were sharing the ride with and asked them in Russian if he was overcharging us. They grinned very large grins and said no. Fair Enough.\u00a0 I grumpily agreed to pay the new inflated price.<\/p>\n Once we arrived in Shymkent, we were happy to be rid of the driver, who had after we agreed to pay him double. attempted to repair the relationship through uncomfortable conversation about sexist and racist topics. We had him drop us off at one of the budget hotels listed in the Lonely Planet, but in classic Lonely Planet style, the hotel turned out to be none too cheap, and also lacking in rooms with windows. So we wheeled on.<\/p>\n We stopped to ask a group of young men about hotels, and while they were unable to help us find a cheap place, they did speak a little English, which gave Scott a chance to talk, and when we parted, they gave him a white Kazakh Muslim skullcap as a gift. Shymkent was racking up points.<\/p>\n The wheel turned out to be a long and hungry one. We continued to go from hotel to hotel, but each one was more expensive than the last. We stopped to ask some men crouching under a street light about where we might stay, and they offered to let us stay in their home for about $20 per night. Something about them felt untrustworthy, though, so we just took a group picture and left.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a>In honor of his great contributions to the AsiaWheeling team, and our unending love for all that is Uzbek, we would like to, upon our departure from this great land, announce yet another tee-shirt, titled \u201cThe Uzual Suspect.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/a>