Flight to Almaty, Kazakhstan

This is a pretty accurate image of what our room was like. I found it on the internet!

Getting out of Kazakhstan is not easy. The flights are limited and the airline is crappy. Here is a journal entry about the first leg of our trip to Thailand.

Tuesday, 3-22-2011

We took a 6PM flight from Atyrau to Almaty, Kazakhstan. We arrived in Almaty around 11PM and got off the plane dirty and very tired. Our next flight was at 6AM the following morning so we made arrangements to stay in an apartment next to the airport run by a woman named Olga. Our other alternative would be the airport’s “hotel” which consists of rooms with mats on the floor and shared bathrooms or to sleep in the airport itself.

Olga is just a short walk from the airport and was to meet us there in order to show us where we are staying and let us in. We waited to collect our baggage only to find out it was already checked for the next flight and we were advised not to try and remove it. We decided to leave our bags there as we had six huge suitcases and four cranky kids. We decided we would have to rough it for the night. Roughing it is exactly what we did. Because we took so long with our luggage Olga left, assuming that we didn’t arrive as planned. We did what any smart family would do and took off on foot, late at night in a cold, dark city searching for Olga and her apartment. Two women passing clearly noticed that we were lost and stopped to ask us where we were going and to ask “where on earth was my baby’s hat and coat?!”. Hey, we are flying to Thailand where it is always summer, sorry if I underdressed my kids. I wasn’t expecting to be wandering around the streets of Almaty in the middle of the night.

The Kazakh people, as a whole, over dress their kids. I like to call them “Marshmallow Babies” because if there is a bit of chill in the air they have their kids stuffed into thermal suits complete with boots, hats and mittens. They always stop to lecture me about Colbie being underdressed, in Russian. I have learned to expect it and just nod and smile.

We told the women we were looking for Olga and one said, “I’ll call her for you!” Within a few minutes Olga had arrived and was hurrying us to the apartment because, of course, “The baby is cold!”.

As she was leading us into a back alley, Emily whispered to me, “Mommy, who is this lady and where is she taking us?” Poor kid. I’d be nervous, too, following a strange woman who is going on and on in Russian about who knows what into a dark alley in a strange city at midnight if I wasn’t so tired. I just wanted somewhere to sleep.

Olga took us to an apartment building that looked like it came out of the Russian Cold War Era. The doors were heavy and metal and the walls made from concrete. There were bars on the windows and everything had that cold, drippy, damp feeling and smell to it. We stepped into the apartment and there was a tiny bathroom, an even smaller kitchen area (complete with dirty dishes and old food in the little refrigerator), two twin cots in the living area, two twin cots in one bedroom and a third room just big enough for a queen size bed, a toddler bed and nothing else. The place was tidy but gross. I didn’t even want to think about how many people had used the blankets and pillows without them being washed so I froze the whole night only using sheets to cover with. Under any other circumstances I would have said forget it and gone somewhere else but we were completely exhausted and really had nowhere else to go.

Olga was going from room to room telling us where things were and giving instructions. I have no clue what she actually said so I just nodded my head and said, “Kardasho”, meaning, “it is good”. The place looked so lived in I thought we would actually be staying with Olga that night. She was very warm and friendly, though, and it was a nice feeling to be with such good company.

As Olga showed us the toddler bed Colbie squealed, “Oh! My bed! Thank you! Look! I have a bed!” I think she made Olga’s whole year with that little outburst. When she left Emily asked, “Mom, are we seriously sleeping here?” Emily has champagne taste and this was clearly home made, crappy brew.

The clincher? It was about $130 a night. That is the same price we paid for our sweet resort room in Thailand.