16 Nov 06
And with the city's approach come ever-grander cars, a Cayenne here, an X5 there, incongruously mixing with the ancient Moskviches. Now we're in the suburbs and there seems to be a new petrol station every 500 metres, a far cry from the one-man, two-pump dereliction we stopped at just after the Russian border, whose current trading status was detectable only by the stink of petrol.
Of those past cars of Russian party prestige, Tchaikas and Zils and Zims, there is no sign, but the cream of western Europe's expensive wheels is abundant. There are even proper dealerships in this city with its 147 casinos but no McDonald's (although I did spy an eatery called McBurger, just down the road from Mad Murphy's Irish Pub).
The city previously known as Alma Ata ('father apple'), and renamed Vernyj by the imperial Russians, sits at the foot of the Tian Shan mountains. The charter that marked the end of the Soviet Union and created the Commonwealth of Independent States was signed here in 1991, and it's still the cultural and business centre of Kazakhstan.
It has occasional earthquakes, the most devastating happening in 1911 when all the city was destroyed apart from the wooden, and therefore flexible, Russian Orthodox cathedral. Built in 1907, it's the most colourful cathedral I've ever seen.
If Almaty is a sign of the way Kazakhstan is developing, the future is bright. We've just driven 1,548 miles across its vastness and our fuel consumption has been trashed, so apologies to the next team. But they have the intriguing task of driving into a nation already well on the way to world economic domination: China.
Meanwhile it's back to the UK for us, by Lufthansa this time. That said, I rather enjoyed the Aeroflot experience on the way out, even if my tray table was pressed to my chest and my right foot went numb. And I'm only five foot six. Imagine what it must be like for Borat.
Follow the rest of the journey on 4Car throughout November
