Update: Tue 20:10

Sunday, 21 August

The excellent breakfast was not appearing -- it seems the woman who cooked them has left or is having a baby or something and they haven't got a replacement. Being an able-minded and practical sort of person in these matters I rustled up a cup of tea.

It would have been a cup of coffee but it seems by Papua New Guinean freetrade instant granules like to form a solid lump in the cocoa tin they've been left in for, um, a year.

The Icelanders, despite repeated statements to the effect that they didn't have enough time promptly sat about while the one of them faffed on the Internet all morning. They left with the unlikely target of Khorog this evening.

I stumbled off towards town with the intention of finding some money and then some food. In fact, by coincidence I found the Aussie couple trying to get a friend to use their, newly arrived in London, bank card reader over Skype. They'd been there for several hours.

I faffed about then stopped in an Internet shop to get the RU visa paperwork printed off where the guy quizzed me about getting a visa for Britain. He had wanted to go back to the USA but for reasons I didn't quite follow that involved not going to school for two months he ended up in immigration detention and has been banned for ten years.

I popped into the local Ecuadorian restaurant although I went for the Tex-Mex option. A very pleasant change followed by a good yak back at the Inn.

Monday, 22 August

Wise words from the Aussies are that the Kazakhs don't want your passport during the visa process so I follow them down there first. The woman running the show is dead keen on a queue and any interlopers are shooed out. In fact she's very hard to get the attention of at all and I floundered at the window for 15 minutes just trying to get an application form inches from my fingers through the glass.

The Aussies were sorted and scooted off with their visas while I had managed to fill the form in incorrectly and she had to call up an English speaking assistant. Questions like "If you are transiting KZ ...?" where despite the fact I'm not asking for a transit visa (even if I might well be transiting the country) I still had to tick the No box. "If you are not-resident in your home country do you have the right to return?" But but but! I still had to tick Yes and give "I have a UK passport" as my proof of ability to return.

I asked about an urgent process but they were just a satellite office, the number crunching went on in KZ. They did say Brits were usually processed quite quickly so I could try coming back on Wednesday morning to see how it was going. If not, try Friday (as they don't work Thursdays...). Still, that's not the worst.

The Russian embassy starts work at ten on a Monday and after the Kazakhs I arrived at 10:30 and added my name to the list as #77. They had processed 6 so far.

Come 12pm on a blisteringly hot day with no wind I went to see how many names had been crossed off. They were up to #13. Oh dear.

The blokey managing the gate was hanging about for some reason so I went to ask, just in case I was being a complete pillock, that this was the place they handle visas. He motioned to stay there then a few minutes later brought me in. Woo, queue jumping by foreigners!

A English speaking bloke appeared and asked for my paperwork. This all looks fine but we normally handle visas on Wednesday or Thursday, can you come back then. Well, yes, but I was looking for some urgent processing, I'd like to be in Russia fairly soon. No worries, he said, it only takes a week, but, uh, if I start on Wednesday and it takes a week that'll be September already. Oh yes, let me go and ask someone.

He came back ten minutes later with just my passport (I was extremely hopeful that was it all done) but he said to come back at 3pm and pay the cashier $135 in Somoni and the visa would be ready on Wednesday or Thursday. OK, that sounds good.

I found one of the cyclists in the favoured cheap cafe with free fast wifi and we had a good gas while he uploaded his cycling home videos.

Back to the Russians and the cashier woman, after asking me for $145 in Somoni, said to come back at 4pm on Wednesday. Ah, the power of money!

So, that's pretty good. With a spot of luck I could be visa'd up on Wednesday and hit the road on Thursday.

That brings up the question of where next. My vague plan has changed again, the advantage of proper independent travel. The delightful A, having organised virtually everything to do with visas in Central Asia has gone overboard and found a few days from her rather busy schedule as editor of a fashion magazine (I fully expect to be asked to contribute an article or two) and offered to be guide for a few days in the southern Urals. Uzbekistan, I'm afraid, you are no match.

Her schedule is considerably more tight than mine so I need to be waltzing into Yekaterinburg a week on Saturday. It's only 3500km away over unknown Kazakh roads and over three international borders. No doubt with plenty of speed traps on the tarmac bits.

I hope the delightful A is the sort to be charmed by hot, tired, sweaty and smelly bikers collapsing on her doorstep. I'm sure she is, yes.

Back at the Inn, after an afternoon's yakking, the Israeli guy (I really should ask people their names from time to time) offered to rustle up a "???" (Israeli for a bit of everything) for five of us and it was delicious. Must seek out more "???".

I could have asked for the recipe but it seemed more complicated than putting a teabag in a pot. I went and bought the beer.

Tuesday, 23 August

Busy doing nothing.

I eventually, having missed breakfast and lunch, have staggered back down to the Ecuadorean place to use their wifi mostly as the Inn's WiMax connection has been broken for the last few days (I blame the Icelanders, they waltzed off with the key to the room in the building next door leaving it locked and the wifi hasn't worked since). In fact, they can't open the big safe in the office...

I managed a quick run with the washing machine and my jeans now look light blue again. Extraordinary!

Once the heat of the day was over I even managed to clean and lube the chain -- having followed the Dutch cyclist run through the works of his machine. I'm surprisingly intrigued by these cyclists. Very interesting people and quite a little community. Here at the Inn I've come across three other bikers/couples. A small world.

On an slight tangent, the Icelanders were doing their navigating based on screenshots of Google maps. That's pretty hardcore (or stupid). They (and the Aussies) took photos of my Russian atlas for their loop through to Mongolia (KZ-RU-MO). The Korean biker was suddenly enamoured of my Central Asia map last night: "I must have this map" well, why not take a photo? So he did.