28 Nov 06
The overwhelming advice, then, is this: unless you're in the oil and gas business, there's little reason to drag yourself here. Still, the country boasts some staggeringly beautiful bits. Like the 150-mile-long Sharyn Canyon, which is like the Grand Canyon only prettier, more elegant and moodier. Incredibly, it's got a road running through the middle of it. A strong contender for the Eighth Wonder of the World, if ever there was one.
At the other end of the scale, I also have to tell you that chugging along, minding my own business in a place that once played host to precisely 467 exploding nuclear bombs plus countless experimental rocket and torpedo launches is the most surreal thing I've ever done on four wheels. It's not every day that you get to steer a Merc through the world's most notorious and secretive nuke test zone while asking yourself if it's wise to open the window, eat that local apple or get out of the car for a comfort break.
Your powers of self-preservation eventually overcome your curiosity and you decide that getting out of Kazakhstan is rather a good idea. But if that means entering China by road, you'll feel like a man jumping out of the frying pan into the wok.
'You no take car. Much better you take bus,' I am informed in the strongest possible terms by a respected local travel expert. When I politely refuse, the advice that follows is even more precise. 'Then you take train to Urumqui. Forty-hour journey. Only 60 dollar.'
Wherever I am in the world, if someone orders me to take a bus or train I instinctively reach for the car keys. Every time. Which is why I find myself waiting with my E-Class at the heavily fortified Kaz-Chi border. And waiting. And waiting.
And once the waiting is over, this is how it goes: 'Get out of car now. Come here. Line up over there. No camera or photo. Toilet not here. Toilet there, outside by tree. Where you go? Give me pack of cigarette first. What you mean you no smoke? Everyone smoke. Always.'
