In Kazakstan Every Car is a Taxi

August 25-26, 2007

When I got up this morning I felt really sick. I had diarrhea all last night, and I still had a stomach ached and felt kind of woozy. At first I thought that improperly washed fruit or unclean water might have caused it, but as the fruit sprung right from the front garden and I was drinking water out of my filter-cap water bottle, I doubted they were the real culprits. The problem, I ultimately realized, was nerves. I was so stressed out about being thrown into the deep end with a new family situation, a language I couldn’t speak, and a culture I barely understood, that I made myself sick. Fortunately, a short nap, a little deep breathing, and I was ready to submerge myself in the situation, which came in the form of a car ride with my “brother” Ocxay. The car ride was very interesting, both for the beautiful scenery, Ocxat’s teaching me of new Kazak and Russian words, and his driving at 100 KMH on very narrow roads.
The true adventure did not begin however, until we started back towards Chamalgon. We saw a couple of young Kazak girls, all dressed up, and standing by the side of the road. I figured they were with friends, but one stuck out her arm, and Ocxay pulled over to pick them up. I thought that maybe Ocxay knew them, but he later said that he did not; it was just customary to pick up people on the side of the road like that if you were going that way. This was further demonstrated later that night, when headed towards the Monsha, or sauna with several of his friends, they picked up a Russian woman wearing far too much make-up and carrying a small infant, which she proceeded to nurse in the backseat. It seemed rather strange to me at first, the idea of people so freely hitchhiking, but thinking about it later, I realized that it made a good deal of sense, and showed how close knit is the Kazak community. They do not worry about being mugged by a hiker or driver, and they apparently do not ask for gas money or any other compensation. They just operate on the general assumption that maybe next time, when the roles are reversed, the hiker would do the same for the driver.
As for the Monsha, or sauna, I didn’t think I would like it that much, but I found that I had a surprisingly good time. Previously whenever I have been in a steam room, I have felt awkward, but there, even though we were all stark naked, everyone was having a blast. It did not matter that I did not speak Kazak or Russian, I could understand the enjoyment they felt as they went from the stark contrast of the blistering hot steam and cold river, or “woozen.” I really felt included by those guys, they allowed me to join in their sense of camaraderie and friendship, and I did not feel so out of place.