Part VI

My Soviet Hotel

As I stand out on the balcony of my crappy, Soviet Airport hotel, I could see the storm clouds thickening and the beautiful night slipping away before my very eyes. I was still in a sky-high mood and always have loved a good storm, plus tomorrow I’d be heading to the crown jewel of Russia and Ukraine, The Crimea (an area north of Turkey on The Black Sea, renowned for its sub-tropical environment and health spas). And, furthermore I’d survived two of “The Stans” in one-piece……………….so I thought………..

My night was ok; the bed was typical of all the beds I’d slept on in Kazakhstan, harder than the hardest slab of concrete. I awakened early that morning and was greeted with an absolute downpour of rain complete with thunder and lightning. Luckily, the airport was right across the street, so I would not have to walk very far in the nasty weather. I gathered my belongings, packed up my backpack and dragged my heavy bag (which checked in at about 50 lbs.) down several flights of stairs!

Almaty Airport

I leisurely walked across the street and entered the airport only to be met by the usual consortium of taxi touts, who in thick Russian accents asked me if I “need taxi”. Just a slight digression here, there are two types of taxis in Kazakhstan, one type official and the other…not so official, otherwise known as gypsy cabs. The unofficial taxis are just any old guy with a car who picks up people hailing a cab. The advantage to the gypsy cabs is that their rates are highly negotiable and they’re usually everywhere. Anyway, I gruffly told the taxi drivers NYET or NO!

After waiting what felt like forever, I finally reached the ticket counter. The agent looked over my passport, issued me a boarding pass and then checked my bag telling me to next proceed through customs. Luckily, there were no problems getting through customs, however I was absolutely wasted from getting up at the God-awful hour of 4 AM for an 8 AM flight to Istanbul (in order to get to the Crimea). Luckily, if I could just survive customs and immigration, the Turkish Airline business lounge awaited me on the other side. I just couldn’t wait to sit down and it didn’t matter if it was in a business class lounge or on the floor, my endurance was fading.

Immigration Line

Anticipating little to no problems, I gladly presented my passport to the immigration official, a stern looking Kazakh woman. She looked at my passport once, then again, flipped through the pages hurriedly, examined my Kazakh visa, flipped back to the front page where it shows my lovely picture and all my vitals, and then flipped back to my Kazakh visa. I’d been through customs in about 30+ different nations, so I considered myself a pro at this. Normally flipping through one’s passport is all just part of the process, trying to psych out the traveler and mess with their mind a bit before they give you the stamp and wave you through. However, this was different………and I was starting to get a bad feeling, no I mean a very horrible feeling. It had been FIVE VERY LONG minutes before she uttered the words in English………….”where’s your paper”……………. I had absolutely no idea what the hell she was talking about and politely asked, “what paper”. She said something in broken English like “immigration paper”. I still had no clue, but was not quite ready to push the panic button, yet… Then………….what felt like a ten-hour ordeal, she muttered in English “sorry, no can go through”.

Whoa, whoa…. wait I said in an escalating panicked voice, “what do you mean, no go through”? She said, “You have to get paper to get out of nation”. I had absolutely no idea what the hell she was talking about and assured her all my papers were in order. She threw my passport back at me and in simple words indicated that there was no way in hell I was getting out until I dug up that piece of paper. I had no clue what to do; I had never received this piece of paper when I entered Kazakhstan.

I stood there frozen in absolute panic and shock as I heard the boarding call for the flight to Istanbul. I had to make this flight, after all my bag had been checked and I had a connection to make! I begged and pleaded with her, but she could’ve given a flying f*ck. Out of sheer desperation I tried things the old Soviet way, a bribe! I laid down one $100 bill yelling “TAKE IT, NOW LET ME OUT”, only to have her scream back at me, “Sir, I don’t want your money, now GET OUT!!”

I refused to leave! I screamed at her to let me the f*ck out (I know not a good idea but I was out of my mind panicked!!!!). However, for a brief moment it looked as if there was a ray of hope. She got up from her station and left with my passport to talk to a superior. I was guardedly optimistic that I may just make it out of this cluster f*ck! Maybe the superior would say “let him through, no point in keeping him around”. She returned, my heart was about ready to jump out its chest and then she threw my passport in my face and said “NO”!  I protested more, begging her to let me out! NO LUCK! I even stated that my mother was dying and that I needed to return to the United States ASAP. Although my mother was not dying, when I phoned her back home to tell her what had happened, she nearly did die of stress. Playing the sympathy “my Mom is dying, let me go” card did not win me any points and ended with her nodding to a military/airport guard to drag me away.

The tall Kazakh/Mongol looking guy approached me, put his hand on my shoulder and literally dragged me away kicking and screaming. Images of the infamous drug smuggling movie, "Midnight Express" started to flash through my mind. I was sure, I'd end up in some Kazakh prison camp or at least in a holding room deep inside the airport.

Luckily Kazakh gulag and/or holding room were avoided! In the end I'd missed my flight, gotten booted out of customs and was up Sh*t Creek without a paddle. However, the sliver of good news was that I managed to get Turkish Airlines to unload my bag; so at least my bag would not end up in Ukraine. Cold comfort as I not only missed my flight, but because the ticket was on United Airlines Mileage Plus and the rules stated once I started any part of my trip, the reservation was unchangeable.

So, in the spirit of the old 1970s Batman shows, “will our hero be able to escape Kazakhstan”, “can Steve get the prized little piece of paper” and “just who the hell is Dan the taxi driver”????? Tune in next episode for, another installment of Steve’s Kazakh Adventure, Part VI!!! Thanks for reading!