This is perhaps the safest blog I'll ever write. I am in a town called Preozorsk, a former R&D site for the soviet ballistic missile programme. Everyone signs in and signs out and there are calls to the capital when a bearded traveller turns up on his bike at 9pm. Having a 150km of pain written on my face and a bicycle must have been enough to get me the nod. They have all gone soft since the wall came down.
The town is an erry time warp set on the beautiful Lake Balquash with more Soviet memorabilia then the average Moscow market stall.
There are soldiers on every corner, lamp=post, and fire extinguisher not to mention occupying every room in town. Security here is tight.
The one internet place has been indefinitely shut down (for technical reasons) and I have managed to persuade the boss of the local pension company to open his office for me on this Sunday morning. Vladimir, is now standing over me, moustache bristling with pride at having shown this westerner the mod cons of Kazakh a pension officer's mess, but uniform fully pressed despite the weekend wake-up call and security guard's rifle close at hand should the westerner overstep the mark. For that reason I will keep it brief.
Firstly - Happy Birthday Dad! I'm only slightly ashamed to admit that I used this as the excuse to get Vladimir to open up. Look forward to celebrating when I get back.
Speaking of which, getting back (or at least getting to Bali) is now firmly on the agenda. I set myself a brutal 7 day consequtive stint to finish the job and the steppe has not missed the opportunity to brutalise. Whatever this heavyweight opponent had left in the locker it has unleashed in these closing rounds. From the leg breaking hills of the coalfields to the scorching heat of the desert and all have been delivered from behind the cast iron guard of a persistent crippling headwind.
There are three days cycling to go before I make a pitch for the border and I am counting them down. Stumbling across a Russia-Kazakh-Krygyz biker festival the night before last did much for the morale but little for the sleep deprivation so I need to be a bit more sensible for the next few days to make sure there are no slip ups.
Before Vladimir pulls the plug (or the trigger) I better sign off. With a bit of luck the next one should come from Almaty.
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