Atryau, Aktau, and The Caspian Sea - Part Two - In Atyrau
The train ride was about twenty-four hours to Atyrau. It was, for the most part, uneventful. Because we had bunks on the side of the train, we had to use other people's tables, and so we spent a lot of time sitting with differnet people, playing Durak (a Russian card game) and checkers and drinking tea. As we were pulling into Aktau, we were running low on food, and since there was no schedule posted, we asked how long the stop would be. Estimates varied from ten to twenty-five minutes, so felt safe getting off to buy some provisions. But as we were standing on the platform negotiating the price of lapioshka, only five minutes after the stop, we saw our train pulling away. We panicked and ran after it, but it was gone before we could cross the crowded platform. We started asking everyone what had happened. Again, reports varied. It is going to Atyrau, some said. It will be back, others said. We waited with bated breath, since all our documents, money, and clothes were on the train. We discussed the possibility of spending all the money we were carrying to hire a taxi to outrun the train to the next station. But sure enough, our car was simply being connected to another engine, and returned five minutes later on a different track. It was gratifying to me to see Gulshat nervous, since it made me feel that these things didn't simply happen to me because of inadequate language. Locals suffer, too.
We arrived in Atyrau the next afternoon, and took a taxi to a hotel that my 2000 Lonely Planet described as a low-mid hotel with a good location, costing about $15 per person per night. Something seemed amiss as we entered the opulent marble lobby, and the uniformed lady behind the desk informed us that their rates were now $90 per person per night. The oil industry was clearly working for someone. Feeling tired, and not wanting to shop around too much, we took another hotel down the street for only $90 per night between us, including breakfast. After showering and resting a while, we wandered around the city center, marvelling every time we crossed the bridge across the flooded Ural river, the bridge between Europe and Asia. Rising from the middle of the bland residential district, there was a pink gumdrop Orthodox church, I took Gulshat to her first trip inside a Christian house of worship. That night, we saw a stupid movie called, in Russian, "Groom For Rent", which I think was called "Wedding Date" in English.
The next day, we moved to a new apartment on the edge of town for only $30 per night, arranged for air tickets back (since the trains were all full), and took in some museums. As I was wandering among the horsewhips and wooden tableware in the Kazakh history museum, I was astonished to come upon a small, black, perfectly typical Indian-style Buddha statue. Apparently there were Turkik muslims, called the Karamaks, in the Atyrau area in the 17th century. There was also an old traditional coat allegedly worn by Jengir Khan, the subject matter for Abai's famous Curses (if I'm not mistaken). The coat, which looked to my eyes just like the chincy souvenier coats sold near the entrance of Almaty bazaars (except being made with genuine gold thread), disproved Bryan and my theory that "traditional" Kazakh dress, as sold in souvenier shops, was too gaudy to be genuinely traditional.
I wanted to see the new Star Wars movie in Atyrau, thinking I wouldn't get another chance in Kazakhstan. (In fact, it came to Kokshetau after I came back from America.) We stumbled across a theater that was playing it, and noting that it was playing the next day at 7pm, planned to return.
That night, while Gulshat was doing laundry, I turned the TV on to BBC. A news report was wrapping up, in which the commentators were discussing something about Iran deceiving the world about its nuclear ambitions. In giant, bold letters, at the bottom of the screen, it read, "IRAN NUCLEAR". My heart fell into my stomach - Iran has nuclear weapons! Gulshat was unperturbed. I spent most of the rest of the evening searching in vain for another news program, until finally around 11:30 I found out that it had simply been a sensationalistic subtitle. Stupid BBC.
Our project for the next day was to try to get a job interview at an oil company for the fun of it. To this end, I bought a tie, Gulshat put on her best clothes, and we tried to find a place where we could print our resumes. Failing to find an internet cafe with a functioning printer, we unconvincingly walked into Petro Kazakhstan's opulent lobby with only dress clothes and an attitude. Not surprisingly, despite a lot of blustery English on my part, we couldn't get in the door.
That evening, we tried to go see Star Wars. When we arrived at 6:45, fifteen minutes before the advertised start time, we found an angry crowd. It happens that early that afternoon, they changed the schedule to start the movie at 6pm, and the crowd was full of people who come to see the movie, only to find it halfway finished. Gratifyingly, these Kazakhs, at least, weren't taking this sitting down. Of course, after about a half hour of demands for accountability or simply to talk to someone in charge, most people left unsatisfied. (My attempts to sound indignant were hobbled by my language. "We checked the schedule tomorrow!" I angrily declared. "Tomorrow it said seven o'clock!") However, those who chose to were allowed to watch the end of the movie for free, which is what Gulshat and I decided to do. In Russian, Yoda has a deep, sophisticated voice.
By the time we walked home, in the rain, we felt that we had exhausted all that Atyrau had to offer. The next day, we were to shoot for the sea.
We arrived in Atyrau the next afternoon, and took a taxi to a hotel that my 2000 Lonely Planet described as a low-mid hotel with a good location, costing about $15 per person per night. Something seemed amiss as we entered the opulent marble lobby, and the uniformed lady behind the desk informed us that their rates were now $90 per person per night. The oil industry was clearly working for someone. Feeling tired, and not wanting to shop around too much, we took another hotel down the street for only $90 per night between us, including breakfast. After showering and resting a while, we wandered around the city center, marvelling every time we crossed the bridge across the flooded Ural river, the bridge between Europe and Asia. Rising from the middle of the bland residential district, there was a pink gumdrop Orthodox church, I took Gulshat to her first trip inside a Christian house of worship. That night, we saw a stupid movie called, in Russian, "Groom For Rent", which I think was called "Wedding Date" in English.
The next day, we moved to a new apartment on the edge of town for only $30 per night, arranged for air tickets back (since the trains were all full), and took in some museums. As I was wandering among the horsewhips and wooden tableware in the Kazakh history museum, I was astonished to come upon a small, black, perfectly typical Indian-style Buddha statue. Apparently there were Turkik muslims, called the Karamaks, in the Atyrau area in the 17th century. There was also an old traditional coat allegedly worn by Jengir Khan, the subject matter for Abai's famous Curses (if I'm not mistaken). The coat, which looked to my eyes just like the chincy souvenier coats sold near the entrance of Almaty bazaars (except being made with genuine gold thread), disproved Bryan and my theory that "traditional" Kazakh dress, as sold in souvenier shops, was too gaudy to be genuinely traditional.
I wanted to see the new Star Wars movie in Atyrau, thinking I wouldn't get another chance in Kazakhstan. (In fact, it came to Kokshetau after I came back from America.) We stumbled across a theater that was playing it, and noting that it was playing the next day at 7pm, planned to return.
That night, while Gulshat was doing laundry, I turned the TV on to BBC. A news report was wrapping up, in which the commentators were discussing something about Iran deceiving the world about its nuclear ambitions. In giant, bold letters, at the bottom of the screen, it read, "IRAN NUCLEAR". My heart fell into my stomach - Iran has nuclear weapons! Gulshat was unperturbed. I spent most of the rest of the evening searching in vain for another news program, until finally around 11:30 I found out that it had simply been a sensationalistic subtitle. Stupid BBC.
Our project for the next day was to try to get a job interview at an oil company for the fun of it. To this end, I bought a tie, Gulshat put on her best clothes, and we tried to find a place where we could print our resumes. Failing to find an internet cafe with a functioning printer, we unconvincingly walked into Petro Kazakhstan's opulent lobby with only dress clothes and an attitude. Not surprisingly, despite a lot of blustery English on my part, we couldn't get in the door.
That evening, we tried to go see Star Wars. When we arrived at 6:45, fifteen minutes before the advertised start time, we found an angry crowd. It happens that early that afternoon, they changed the schedule to start the movie at 6pm, and the crowd was full of people who come to see the movie, only to find it halfway finished. Gratifyingly, these Kazakhs, at least, weren't taking this sitting down. Of course, after about a half hour of demands for accountability or simply to talk to someone in charge, most people left unsatisfied. (My attempts to sound indignant were hobbled by my language. "We checked the schedule tomorrow!" I angrily declared. "Tomorrow it said seven o'clock!") However, those who chose to were allowed to watch the end of the movie for free, which is what Gulshat and I decided to do. In Russian, Yoda has a deep, sophisticated voice.
By the time we walked home, in the rain, we felt that we had exhausted all that Atyrau had to offer. The next day, we were to shoot for the sea.
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