Update: Thu 14:50

Wednesday, 24 August

At the Kazakh joint at 10:30 we were harangued by the woman into forming an orderly queue at the bottom of the stairs and she even collared a guard to make sure it stayed that way. She really does like a queue.

She failed to recognise me despite my application form and picture being on the top of her pile but after checking on the computer filled out the pay slip and sent me off to the bank. The bank, however, had no power and a busted generator so they couldn't help me.

Instead I followed the guest house man's directions to a bazaar where I could pick up a couple of H4 lightbulbs so that I can see something of the horror of the Anzub(?) tunnel I have to traverse to get to Tashkent. A 5km pitch black, smog filled, potholed, water filled hell-hole by general agreement. The Auusie couple fell off in a car sized water-filled pot-hole on the way here that had ripped the rear axle off a previous truck and someone else had seen an entire car abandoned in the middle of. Sounds fun...not! I still might tail-gate a car not matter how slowly it goes.

I had to go back to the guesthouse to get directions to the kurtob restaurant where I also found out the Kazakh embassy is only open until 12. Bugger. kurtob is a nice enough bread, onions and veg. in a yoghurty-cheesy slop. OK for lunch.

I found the bank doing business again after lunch and then confirmed the Kazakhs were shut and there was no knocking on the door just in case as the cage round the door at the top of the steps was padlocked. The guard also shoo-ed me away. They're closed on a Thursday so that'll be Friday morning for me, then.

I loitered in this favoured watering/surfing hole until I went off to see the Russians at four. I asked the man at the gate about visas and rather than let me in he asked for my passport and paperwork. OK. Wait her for 5-10 minutes, he said. 25 minutes later a woman came out and rather apologetically said their printer was broken. Bugger! She wanted my phone number and I wrote SMS to suggest she not leave a voice mail but she didn't recognise the letters. I then suggested tomorrow ("zaftra") and waved four fingers near my watch and the man nodded. Tomorrow it is, then.

I went out to the local Chinese which was full of the sound of Chinese in private rooms with only me in the main restaurant watching some rather racy Chinese TV spy adventure programme -- something I never saw in China! The food was good, expensive for round here but they delivered a ton of it. Phew!

Thursday, 25 August

The guest house people really do take a very relaxed attitude to running their business. We, the guests, handled the arrival of some people late last night then there was no-one around this morning at all before the cleaner turned up and we had to handle an incoming booking in English for her. Some old bloke who turns up and sleeps a lot (friend of the family?) was the only one we could find to give a French couple someone to pay. Very odd.

As I type I'm waiting to see what the Ruskies are up to this time.

At least half the people in the guest house are waiting for visas of some kind so there's something of a community spirit and general exasperation at the latest setback for anyone on the visa hunt. Many people make the trek out to the embassy every day only to be told to come back the next day when it will be ready. My zero out of two yesterday was good value, I think.