29 OCTOBER 2014

After 5 hours of flight on Air Astana where the staff was very attentive (weird feeling after 50 days of vagrancy and copulation). Here we are in Almaty, former capital of Kazakstan.

The name "Almaty" means "rich in apples". The old Soviet version, "Alma-Ata", meant, literally, "Grand-Père-Pomme".

We are in the ancestral cradle of this fruit. The apple tree, originating from the surroundings of Almaty, forms whole forests in cohabitation with other species of wild apple trees; Recent DNA analyzes prove that it is the ancestor of the cultivated apple of today (via wikipedia).

Gone are the felted atmosphere of the plane, the outskirts of Almaty show a certain poverty where many houses are realized by assembling of undulating waves. The center is more modern, organized in different blocks, it is nice to walk in the streets, the trees are numerous and gives a warm image to this part of the city. After a visit to the French Consulate, it is time to resume the stop. Lolo marks on our slate the nearest town of Almaty and that of Bishkek at 5H of road one knows never. The cars stop one after the other, but all drivers are only interested in money! Besides, they prefer to bring us to Bishkek because pecuniarily it is more interesting! When they are told "unas nes dirig (we do not have money)" the interested look turns into dazed look of anger.

It is time to appeal to the G2 (International summit between Lolo and JD, yes yes we play it a lot). The G2 is unanimous: it is impossible to hitch-hike in these conditions. We hitchhike for the pleasure of meeting people, before being an economic reason. So our decision is made, we are ready to participate in the expense but not that it is a business.

Proud to defend the values ​​that drive our journey, we decide to reach the bus station on foot where we will decide how to reach the border. However in this environment our belief "That another world is possible" take a hit in the wing.

On the road we call a bus driver waiting for the time of his departure to ask our way. It makes us understand in Russian and by gesture that it passes not very far from the station and that it is ready to take us for free! Whouhahou our first Bus stop !!! A young man gets up by telling us in rough English (a bit like ours) that he will tell us the stop. We take a little hope ...

Unfortunately as the bus stops, the bus is less and less livable. Even in Istanbul we have never been so close, inexorably we move away from each other. The road is all bumpy, traffic is intense and honking, nothing to do with the traffic jams, here no traffic lane, the cars are in all directions a bit like us ...

I wait in the brouhaha the voice of our young Kazak tell Laura "the next" (the next for those who are even less strong in English than we lol). We look for the look to say "it is crazy! Impossible to get out of there especially with our bags! The bus stops and our young Kazak takes his big voice inherited from these horsemen ancestors and seems to say in Russian "attention tourists who have to go down! ". There, like Moses sharing the waters, the crowd splits in two to leave us the central passage before our bewildered eyes. But how do they tighten even more, our big bags crush their feet, clap their shins and not a single one to groan or look at us ... A real moment to live to believe! The moment becomes even more magical when our descent from the bus we see in the distance the snowy mountains illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun.

The young man who could have left us there to go up on the bus wants to fulfill his mission by bringing us near the station. 5 minutes after crossing congested roads and damaged sidewalks he pointed at the station and moved humbly back towards the bus stop, just after a little smile to say goodbye to us without asking anything in return or other boast . We remain impressed by this simplicity. It is at a time when money seems to be master of man that one of the most beautiful moments of humanity sheds light on our path and makes us want to believe that "another world is possible".

At the station of Sairan it is the return to a certain madness. One feels like being in the middle of a fair on the bus where in front of each of them a man shouts his destination like a fishmonger in our old markets. In spite of this competition to the customers the "gouailleurs" seem to get along perfectly.

We go in search of information on prices of buses for bishkek. Randomly choosing the wicket 5 that told us to go see the counter 3, 3 to 1 and 1 to go see a lady sitting on a small table on the other side of the train station, this table it we Said to ask directly to the bus there !!! ...

With an idea of ​​price, it is a row of chair to sleep and we decide to sleep alternately for insurance, especially as the security guard did not seem to like people who sleep in the train station. Lolo plays diplomacy, saying that waiting for the next bus to bishkek and when it's time to sleep Lolo I play the tourist who understands nothing of Russian (which is not true) and that speaks a lot for more capacity I leave him the recipe gloubiboulga monitoring the cassoulet. A strength he gives up with a ok ok ... and goes drunk words. A new day that will remain in our memory!