(Sorry it's phonetic, but these are words that mark our days of traveling). Let soon since our last post:
First, we arrived in Semey, and this incredible meeting with the Director of Cultural Affairs City, who wanted to pose for our batmobile Plains:
"Godfather IV" soon on your screens ... This same gentleman who took us to improvise a small traditional feast that evening, guaranteed atmosphere and good company ensured ....
GS mastered well the Dembri (2-stringed lute) and allows me and my seductive charm of those around ... Another highlight of our visit to Semey: 's visit home from exile Dostoevsky ...
The hut of the writer. No it does not snow that falls, but the poplar fluff .... 
"I touched his office ouiiiiiiiiiii !!!!!!" nice little detail: the paving of the museum (as many buildings for that matter) has the distinction of panic radioactivity detectors ... The material was recovered from the nuclear test site Polygon, not far from the city. We did not linger ...
Then it is again the road a little less painful than it took to take arrive there, but with games still amazing ....
"Excuse me, this is the way to Pavlodar?" And then, of course, unlikely at this meeting Ekybastuz: Chechen community the corner which we assumed when we asked in the street where we could find 380v ... Give the guy a call, hop, another comes and takes us to a coal plant, the car will be recharged there. To sleep? The sister of a friend is an inn not far away.
To eat? No question we leave without eating, go hop, some races, we call other buddies (Chechen course), it mounts all the Mercedes (uh you're sure we can get back to 5?) and steering the steppe with half a sheep, apricots, garlic and onions open the trunk, Turkish music background ....
We confess to have had a big doubt in arriving at the foot of an ancient settlement, with just a rickety hut and a wooden plank on two traiteaux.
But what are we doing here ?.... In two shots dippers, all turned into a ballroom at the Kusturica, music always background that comes from the Mercedes wide open, crackling fire in a barrel of spirits returned, and mutton boiled with onions on top ("Gejekgalesh" Chechen traditional dish). We eat garlic salt to the undertaker (luckily we had no tryst just after), and the dean of the community begins its leitmotif: "Wipit, Zakoussit!" which can result in: "You drink first, and eat!" , except we did not eat anything since we prepared the meal .... So it became "Wipit, wipit ..."
Wipit, zakoussit .... In short it is endless ! I have known Germans drinking beer at Oktoberfest in Munich, the English pubs in Bristol rovers, but it must be confessed, nothing and nobody can match the Chechen Plains killer Vodka .... short, good evening, returning late in the village, and unforgettable moments shared ...
And go again, always the steppes, a vast green desert ...
At least we are not bothered by the traffic .... 
Above all, do not dress in green .... Directorate : Astana!
Xav
0 comments:
Post a Comment