Border Crossing: China to Kazakhstan

A Kazakh consulate exists in the famous Silk Road city, Urumqi, next to a myriad of neighborhood alleys that all have the same name but get disconnected by intersecting blocks. When we finally wandered out of the maze, into wider, recently-developed streets, the flags and the line of Kazakhs made it obvious. The line was orderly, it was in fact a line, but everyone stood pretty close to their neighbors and were cheerily chatting away while a large, intimidating guard stood glaring at them from the gate. We stood and watched for about ten minutes, and scanned some papers on a noteboard, trying to get a grasp of the process for entering the building. Someone must've indicated that we enter the gate so we apprehensively approached the scowling guard who, when we showed him our American passports, miraculously gave way. Apparently the line was for Kazakh nationals and there was another process for other foreigners. The building looked like a house. A bit of yard in front and a short stairway up to the entrance. Inside we managed to get our paperwork done with a mix of English and Chinese. With one clerk, we couldn't seem to figure out which language the pair of us knew more of.

Visas in hand, we were ready to enter Kazakhstan. From Urumqi, we took an overnight bus to one of the border towns. There is a train from Urumqi to Almaty (the once-capital of Kazakhstan and a large city on the South-Eastern side of the country). We arrived in this tiny, dusty Chinese border town Sunday morning to find out that the border is closed on Sundays. So we drove around with our taxi driver, looking for a place to stay. He would report the price of a suggested place and always, I would answer, we need something cheaper, cheaper. Finally, he said, I know a place, and drove to the outskirts of town along the main (half dirt) highway. Turned out to be his house. He explained that a Uzbekistani man was also staying at his house that night and he could take all of us to the border tomorrow. The price would include our meals. He and his wife (they were both Kazakhs who had been raised in China and were both teachers) would take care of us.

Their house was a series of four rooms arranged linearly with a glass covered hallway along one side that let in a lot of light. The sleeping rooms had raised floors so that the entry was a bit lower, intended to be a place to step out of your shoes. The raised floors were covered in rugs and had low tables. Along the walls were stacks of bedding to be rolled out in the evening. The glass hallway faced the yard which may be a garden in the later spring but still seemed to be dormant. In the corner of the yard was the outhouse which included a box of loose school papers with childrens drawings on them to be used for toilet paper.

We spent the day playing cards quietly and went on a walk in the late afternoon because the house began to feel confining. The taxi man was out all day, working, and his wife was sweet but busy with her own tasks so we were left alone.

In the evening we ate and tried to chat. The taxi man and his wife were able to speak Uighur, I think, which is the local minority language and is similar to Uzbek so they could speak to their other guest. They could then speak to me in Chinese. So we were able to gather that the Uzbek man had been in China on business and learned about our hosts' situation as Chinese citizens.

The next morning, we finally made it to the border. We had no idea what an ordeal we were facing. Airports are extremely efficient border crossings because there is a lot of money involved in keeping the travelers moving on those flights. Rich people cross borders that way and they don't want to wait. Trains are also usually orderly and fairly quick. Walking across the India-Nepal border was fine, it was even lazy. Since there was no line for those walking, it was simple. There was a long line of cargo trucks but that didn't conflict with our crossing.

The China-Kazakhstan border crossing was hell. First there was a mass of people waiting (in no real line) outside the gate into the Chinese side. People were carrying large boxes over their heads that contained rice cookers, tvs, rc cars, and fans. This was also the first time I was seeing white people again. It took me a while to realize they were all Russians. I was also shocked to be seeing women in black leather with scarves in their hair, gold front teeth, and a black eye.

After the first gate into the Chinese border, there was a crush to get your stuff through the x-ray machine. Next was a rush to get on shuttle buses that drove the mile distance between the border processing buildings. So on the Kazakh side, we had to go through the same thing; another crush for an x-ray machine, and another round of filing through bottleneck gates. Then, when we had been released into the wide Kazakh expanse with no more need to be crushed together, we had to pay another shuttle-type bus to get us from the border crossing to the regular taxi stand a half mile away. It was all quite confusing.

When we were dropped at the taxi stand, we were swarmed and a tall youngish driver dragged us off to his taxi, physically. He was pretty menacing toward the other drivers and got pretty angry when we started following someone else. It was scary and I felt resentful that I was being bullied but was still too frightened to make a stand for the sake of not being bullied. Once our bags were safely in his trunk, he relaxed and we agreed to wait for a few other travelers to make the ride cheaper. So we got soup at the cafe nearby with him and a few other drivers. After soup, he passed us off on someone else he knew that was going to Almaty and we finally got on our way.

The border crossing took 6 hrs. We probably only crossed a couple of miles. Then the ride to Almaty took another 4 or 5 hours, landing us there just after dinner, in a raggedy-but-cheap, old, soviet-style hostel. I rate it as the absolute worst border crossing ever. But the next two were pretty trying as well.