20,000 km through 20 countries in 100 days
I knew we were in trouble when the driver started swearing in Kazakh. I don’t speak Kazakh, I didn’t have to. Fear is universal.
I attempted a couple of covert sniffs of my armpit, to assess the damage. I’m ashamed to admit that a pungent aroma assaulted my nostrils. Disgusted, I retched and had to physically shake myself back to my senses.
We walked past the mass of other hitchhikers in Korday, and headed up the road towards Taraz. We figured there was no point in trying to compete with the other hitchhikers, because whenever a car pulled over, it was like
Somewhere on the journey, I think it may have been in Kyzylorda, or some other place that sounds as if someone’s dropped their scrabble tiles, we swapped vehicles and drivers. “Hello I’m Michael. What is your name,” said Michael, as
“What the hell is going on?” I said to Michael the tenth time. “Not a clue”, replied Michael for the tenth time. We had had no choice but to just sit back and passively accept whatever turn of events was