Keep on Truckin...

Hey folks, we have been bookin it through Kazakhstan the past few days. Not a lot of internet access when you're camping by the side of the road and eating beans out of a can:-) We are still in love with this country and the people here - everyone has been so welcoming and friendly. We arrived in the capital, Astana, tonight and are hoping to get close to the Russian border tomorrow night. After that it's Mongolia or bust! Sorry we can't write more...we hope to add some pictures from our adventures soon.

PS: turns out there's no such thing as freedom of the press in Kazakhstan - a few days ago we thought our blog was down because we couldn't access the page - well we came to find out that blogspot is actually blocked in Kazakhstan - crazy! So, we can add posts and you all can see them but we can't.

We were wrong

We were wrong - oh so wrong about Kazakhstan.

All of us were ready to leave Russia yesterday afternoon. The people we had met along the way were super helpful and and nice but the scenery and towns left something to be desired. We attempted to buy some tires before leaving Saratov but opted to wait for (hopefully lower prices) in Kazakhstan. After driving for a few hours, the landscape drastically changed. We were in no man's land. For miles and miles there was barren land - only an occasional gas station to break up the drive. Along the way we were pulled over twice by the Russian police. I don't know if just got lucky or if all Russian policeman are super nice but these guys were incredible. They were all smiles once we showed them the letter and they especially liked our snorkel - the Ka is a hit over here! We thought we were going to have to pay a bribe or a fine - not the case at all. In fact, two of the cops even let us take a picture with them. Awesome!

We rolled up to the Russian-Kazakhstan border at around 6pm. There was not another car in sight. Quite a drastic change from our last border crossing. Similar to the Russian police officers, these border guards could not have been nicer. They were all smiles when they saw the car and laughed at the idea of us driving it to Mongolia. One o

f the guards even agreed to sign our car - very cool.

We weren't really sure where we were going to spend the night - we figured we would probably have to camp on the side of the road since it was getting late. It was about 100km to the nearest town - so we decided to try to make it there in case there were some accommodations. We were told that the roads were really bad - but minus a few potholes, it wasn't much different from the roads we had been driving in Russia and Ukraine. Around 10pm we rolled into Uralsk (Oral) and all I can say is that we were blown away. There were twinkle lights strung all along the bridges and light posts, there were people walking the streets enjoying the warm weather. This place was nothing like we had expected. The buildings were modern - it almost felt like we were pulling into a city like Philadelphia. We pulled up to a hotel and Matt went in to see if they had a room available. While Kass, Simon and I waited outside we drew the attention of some locals who were admiring our car. The Kazak people are extremely friendly and gorgeous! Our new friends signed the car and wished us luck. We weren't able to stay at the hotel because there was a huge oil conference in town so it was all booked up. We ended up meeting a couple of the British Oil Execs who gave us their business card in case we needed rescuing along the way - so cool! A taxi driver named Max offered to show us to another hotel so we followed him a ways down the road. Matt ended up negotiating a great price for the rooms - charming the receptionist with his quick wit and the magic letter. Max was one of the nicest people we've met along the way - he even left us with some key chain souvenirs!

We dropped our bags and headed out to get some food and drinks. Not too far from the hotel was a place called Cum Cum (we're not kidding) - it was packed with locals so we ventured in. As the beers arrived, a bear of a man named, Morat, marched over and put his hand on Matt's chest and started speaking in Russian. None of us could understand him but he kept saying something that sounded like "Uma Thurman". After a while we were finally able to figure out that Morat thought that Matt was a famous Russian rock star. After that he pulled up a chair and kept calling Matt, Vladimir Kristofski. The whole restaurant was in on the joke and before long we were the new hit of the town - these crazy kids that were driving to Mongolia.

None of us thought that we would ever be so happy to be in Kazakhstan. The people here are super friendly, the towns are developed and clean. We had all underestimated this place. Please disregard our previous post about being off the grid. Apparently we were wrong. Very wrong. And so was Borat.

Heading to Kazakhstan

Hey family and friends. We are making our way to Kazakhstan today. We do not know when we will have internet again, so don't be worried if we don't post things for a while.

Feel free to text the satellite phone.

"Bitches in the back"

What can only be described as a dark 24 hours, we've decided to sum up our Russian travels thus far by offering tips to those who may find themselves driving through the roads less traveled in South West Russia. 

1) Russians can be a bit gruff, but often times turn into teddy bears after 5 mins of attempted conversation (and the magic letter).

2) Russian border guards are chauvinistic and believe women belong in the back of the car and should not speak unless spoken to (and even then you might be pushing it).

3) If you can't find a place to sleep find a cab driver (ideally one that looks like Dustin Hoffman), draw a bed and $30 on a piece of paper and follow him to the only Soviet style hotel in town.

4) Don't cross the border without Russian Rubles and take out money whenever you find an ATM. 

5) When approached by a scary Russian man who reeks of Vodka (even when standing in a different room) do not make eye contact, let him tug on your shirt and drunkenly slur his Russian words while praying that the hand motions he is making is to eat and drink together versus "I want to pound your face in".

6) Do not cross solid white lines even if the car in front of you is maxing out at 10mph. Sneaky Russian 5-0 love busting people for this.

7) Always make sure there are two cars in front of you when passing a policeman.

8) Be patient and be prepared to wait when crossing Russian borders.

9) Expect to be looked at less favorably for speaking English and try and learn a bit of Russian in order to understand road signs. 

10) Always pee when you can, nothing is a guarantee here. 

Got out of the car on the side of the highway for some fresh air

Depends on the day, sometimes good...

sometimes not so good. 

Ukrazey

Leaving Kiev was a lot like saying goodbye to your childhood home. We make a base pretty damn quickly, and in the few hours that we'd been in the city we'd become incredibly comfortable within the Ukraine capital. The food was good. The toilets clean. The hostel brilliant. In my mind I was all ready to go to the Ukraine's equivalent of Ikea and purchase some table lamps. 

We'd also discovered that the people of Ukraine are just about the nicest people in the world. They just help. We would realise as the days would go on that this wasn't limited to the country's population, but to nearly everyone we would meet on the road. 

As we pulled out of the city and left the urban sprawl we crossed over the state line of Oklahoma. I checked the map. Twice. We were still in Ukraine. But something was wrong. Everywhere I looked the Midwest stared back at me. The horizons stretched on and on, miles and miles of it surrounded us on all sides. The houses too looked Kansas like. The people Nebraskan. And the weather was near enough identical... 

I feel like the Storm Chaser of the trip. Whenever I seem to get into the drivers seat it begins to rain. Then the lightening begins. And then it fucking pours. 

Swapping out with Sii a couple of hours later the clouds part, the sun pops out and the weather looks beautiful again. Si's got something going on with the big guy upstairs that I want a part of. To be fair though, I'd trade in any belief in any religion for some pain relief. I've got toothache like you won't believe and the pain is spreading vicariously through my skull. At one point I honestly thought I had a tooth infection in my throat. Some hardcore self medicating is taking place. Mouthwash. Max painkillers (thank you Lviv). Salt Water. It's hard to eat, I can barely open my mouth, and it's quite painful to talk. This is providing a small mercy to the other three however. 

We pass over an Ambo team. All toots and shouts but no joy. We learn later that their team's engine has exploded. Their going to be a grand lighter and a week later after the work needed... Not fun. 

And we learn this because we're having dinner with the lovely Richard and Georgia Harris, a husband and wife team apparently 'crammed' into a Nissan Micra. As they quickly realise that they are talking to a three door, four seater, four person team in a Ford Ka their complaints somewhat diminish.

It was great to sit down with strangers in the middle of nowhere and instantly feel at ease. To be able to join their dinner, laugh at length and already exchange stories would be surreal if it wasn't so special. Megs said she felt like joined a fraternity after the Czech Out Party and she's totally right. Wherever we go we know that we can saddle up alongside a Mongol Rally car and talk into the night with it's contents. Steve wasn't MR (Mongol Rally) but he was defo part of the frat. In Kiev we passed over an empty ambo. Leaving a message on the dash I received an email the same night from an Irish duo from Dublin. Being on the road you open yourself up to the process of what can only be called 'instant friendships'.

Bellies content, social levels incredibly boosted, we hit the road. We'd made a Ka-pact that we'd try to get into cities before it got dark. The whole trip thus far has been in the getting into cities after midnight. Skipping dinner and crashing as soon as our heads hit the pillow. Our firm pact was completely shattered the first day it was set stone by having dinner with the Harris'. Arriving into Khrakviv it was already midnight...

There's not many ways I can describe the city. Seedy is the only thing that comes to mind that goes any way to describe it. First off, we couldn't find our pre-arranged and pre-booked hostel. Looking at it from the roadside it looked very much like a prison.. Then we realised it wasn't really a hostel. Then we found that the city was in fact a massive brothel. And then we realised we shouldn't be there. 

You can imagine border towns to be strange places. Very transitory. A mix of cheap motels, violent bars, corrupt cops and inflated currency exchanges. You imagine it isn't hard to find a pair of open legs on the cheap. 

This is all very true of Khrakiv. It's a border town. Apart from one small detail. The city is a good 45kms from the border 

It is now very late. Probably 2am. We decide to head for the border and find a hotel on the way up. Nothing could be as bad as a prison... 

Stopping at a gas station close to the border we asked for directions to the nearest hotel in our nonexistent Ukranian. Since Slovenia we have been talking in sign language and in drawing pictures to the people we meet. There is little than can't be explained in Charades in trying to get what you need. We try to speak in the Universal language that is common to everyone. Asking for pain killers in Lviv I pointed at my head and said ow. Asking for a hotel involves putting your hands together like your praying and putting them next to your head and snoring. 

We were somewhat overjoyed when we were told there was such an establishment just up the road. Our instant delight turned incredibly sour when we were told be the innkeeper that there was no room in the inn. We weren't the first people he had to tell the news to, nor we were the last. But as we looked at our options and honestly discussed crossing over to Russia at three in the morning, Si, Kass and Megs went back inside to ask the innkeeper if we could pitch tent in their garden. Kass put both hands on her stomach and feigned pregnancy. Yet as soon as they had rounded the corner to plead with him, he came outside to talk to me instead. Using my crude, retarded four year old drawings I explained what we were proposing to do. We needed to put a tent up in his garden. And the man agreed. 

Pitching our tent we settled down to a surreal sleep. We'd be awake six hours later to tackle the border. We were staying in someone's garden. When we woke in the morning we did so to two Hell's Angel's motorcycles from Moscow testing their bikes. One was a taller Sarah Connor lookalike who sported, no joke, a beaver tale from her jeans.  Her boyfriend (or 'family friend' we weren't sure) wore more leather than I've seen at some dungeons. They both rode out to their own theme tune blasting from some hidden speaker system within their bikes. It was something else. 

Sitting down at the hotel's breakfast we were asked to sit outside and wait fifteen minutes. We weren't sure if this was because we'd slept in the garden. Or because we smelt like it. We decided to leave. 

Instead we sat down at a restaurant cross the street. The place looked great and smelled fantastic. As the carnivore of the group I was stoked to see grilled meat already being BBQ-ed. But the real surprise came when our Ukrainian waiter gave us our menu's, looked us up and down and started speaking to us in amazing English. He couldn't fathom why anyone from the West would want to come through his town. An ex-cruise ship worker, Sergei spent the rest of the morning generally ignoring or getting annoyed with the other customers so he could lavish us with attention, recommodations and top ups. 

Right now, I hate my mouth, but that morning provided the highest point of pain intensity within my brain. I wasn't really with it. The whole world felt quite strange. Maybe it was because we'd slept in someone's garden. Maybe becaise I was sitting in front of a guy who's English was better than mine on the Ukranian / Russian border. 

I asked Sergei for water and salt, excused myself and went into the restaurant's back yard to wash my face out with sea water. 

Ukraine has a lot of stay dogs. They are all incredibly friendly and interested in being played with. As I see alot of myself in stray dogs (unclean, unloved (middle child syndrome), able to shit anywhere) I get attached to strays quickly. However, even I was quite preturbed when after swallowing half a gulp of really really salty water, I vomited on the floor only to watch the stray puppy eat what had been a partially digested roast beef (I think it was beef - it was described as a meat sandwich...). The last 12 hours had been pretty grim.

 

The rest of the day would involve crossing a border. And I do mean the rest of the day. Four and half of hours of it. 

Written by Matt

Outside of the hotel with our tent

Look Meghan had the dork torch on. 

Our friendly English speaking Ukrainian server. 

WWSD - What would Steve-O do?

We left Lviv and drove throughout the night in a massive storm and on shitty roads (don't worry parents - it was safe) to Kiev. Prior to leaving Lviv I wrote our hostel to say we would be arriving late just in case they gave our room away. We didn't get into Kiev until after 2am. As soon as we pulled up to our hostel we got a text from the hostel people saying they were worried about us and said to call if we need anything. Amazing. Three seconds later we jump out of the car to be greeted by a German bearded man named Steve. He was attracted to the snorkel on our car and the scent of nasty road trip folk.  Matt started talking to him and he told us he had just pulled in from his road trip through Kazakhstan and Russia. Steve is a bit more hardcore than us, in that he was doing the whole thing on a motorcycle. Legend. Steve was stoked that he found like minded people in Kiev and immediately started giving us advice about the looming cloud that is Russia and Kazakhstan. Kiev is looking good. 

After a five hour power nap in one of the best hostels so far we wake up to Steve wanting to give us as many tips as possible on what to do and where to go once we are outside Europe. Steve, Simon and Matt got out the Kazakhstan map and Steve started planning our route for us. We had heard from many past Mongol Rally teams that the roads in Kazakhstan are, at worst, not existent and at best, covered with car size pot holes. However, our road veteran Steve put those worries to rest and said that there are bits of horrible roads, but there are also huge distances of pristine highways. He also said that Kazakhstan is rad and that we are going to have the most amazing time. We had also heard that you can't really get through Russia without bribing half a dozen cops, but our main man Steve put that worry to rest as well. Steve got pulled over in Russia quite a few times, but he said as long as you stay patient and act stupid they'll eventually let you off. On a few occasions when he got pulled over he unpacked his camping supplies, started a fire and made a few cups of tea. Eventually the cops lost their patience and let him go.  As you can probably decipher, we all took to Steve who is full of optimism, excitement and constant smiles. 

After we soaked up some much needed road tips the five us ventured out and explored the city. Kiev is a weird, but pretty place. As with many of the other cities we have been to you can very much see the evidence and lasting impression of the iron curtain. We played around in the city center where a water way trickles down the steps, we ate some chicken Kiev and just enjoyed seeing new things (and being outside of the car). 

At about 2pm we packed up the car and once again pointed east to work our way to the Russian border. We said goodbye to our new friend for now, but he left us with our new road phrase - WWSD: What would Steve-O do? Little did we know this would come in common later that night...

City Centre of Kiev with Steve-O

Hey Andria, look, REAL Chicken Kiev

Steve giving tips to Simon

Right before we leave Kiev

When it's time to leave, it's time to Lviv...

Happy days. We ate like kings at Lviv's finest last night, toasted Not Todd's birthday with big cheap steins of the local beer, passed out cold at some point I can't remember and slept like babies. A day without driving did us all the world of good. But the trip taught us today that too much stationary is not going to work...


Matt, Kass and I used to work with a road warrior machine by the name of Mike Marriner. This guy was born for life on the road, and has probably seen more of the USA than anyone I know. Mikey had a secret that kept each roadtrip successful, he often completely out of the blue announced that it was time to get out of town, move on, and it had to be done right now. He had a feeling in his bones, the winds changed on him and if he didn't high tail it very soon he was sure things were going to get nasty. None of us understood this, but there was no arguing with him.


Today I got where Mikey was coming from. We spent too much time in one spot, and we missed our exit call. Here's how our weird and wonderful final day in Lviv turned out:


First off Matt woke up with super painfull toothache and hardly talked all day, a strange occurance I don't think I've ever come across in the 26 years I've known him.


Meghan started her day with an eyefull - our strange overly friendly Polish roommate decided to change in front of her and didn't break conversation while he gave her a full frontal. "We in a hostel, people get naked all the time, but it better when the ladies do...". Que Meghan's exit.


Yesterday was a beautiful sunny summer's day, today was off and on rain (London style - Kassie's words, not mine), but this didn't seem to stop literally 50 weddings take place in the centre of town - amazing to see, but surreal to find every third person around you is wearing a white blomange.


Denis told us at 4pm that the car was ready so we excitedly headed across town, but in the cab to the garage he broke the news that it was going to cost 1,500 Ukrainian whatchamacallits, not 800. We get to the place to find Ka-put proudly sporting an incredible new head piece, and somehow manage to barter the price back down to 1,000. Lots of car signing, handshakes, promises of returning next year and we peel away victorious.
Immediately we're brought back down to earth - our first run in on the trip with the Fuzz. For the past few days we'd seen plenty of cars go down a one-way street both directions right next to our hostel. We were aiming to get out of town ASAP, and this way we could load up in front, so we went for it. 15 seconds later I'm waved down by two cops. Bollocks. Matt jumped out to get the girls (ladies always help in these situations we're told) leaving me to fend for myself. I did everything I could to look completely bewildered as the guy did everything he could to explain in Ukrainian what I'd done wrong. By the time the girls came down (who immediately started loading up the car around us totally unphased - I was so proud!) he was sat in our car drawing out a map and pictures of no entrance signs. He'd also written down a number I didn't like the look of - 600 - 50 of the Queen's English to you and me. So Kass whips out our Ace card - 'the Letter'. She'd got our good friend Dimitri to translate a couple of paragraphs about our charity fundraising trip into Russian before we left, and it worked a dream. Waving us on our way, the rozzer dejectedley told us to go back the way we came. I made sure I understood perfectly this time round.


All packed up 2 minutes later we point our noses eastwards and speed away, realising we'd hit that mark - it was time to get out of Lviv, as fast as our little 4 seater could take us (about 52mph). But the city wasn't done yet: 30km out of town in torrential rain Meghan realised she never got her bank card back from the ATM just before we left. Pull over, 20 minute call to cancel card.


Back on the road. 5 minutes go by, Police speed check - I've probably been pulled over about 7 times in my life, 2 of which have just happened in the past 2 hours. 67kmph in a 50, it came out of nowhere in the middle of a highway. Again we crack out the magic letter, it reduces our fine from 1000 (£90) to 200 and a couple of American cigarettes.
The storm never let's up and it's a heavy 8 hour drive on the worst roads yet at 40mph almost the whole way. A fitting way to finish the day!
But we got away, we're back on the road. We've adopted Mikey's thinking, and we won't be sticking around that long in one spot again unless we absolutely have to. We're 200k's from Kiev, we're on gorgeous smooth tarmac and we're going strong. I can hear the Chicken Kiev calling my name...

Celebrating Not Todd's Birthday in Lviv

The garage that hooked us up.