Through the Horizons. Part 1. Escape. Алексей Бардаков

and what are their names?

      Our driver stopped resisting and just lowered his head. It was easier for us to remember one of his names than for him to immediately grasp four new names. Now the border guard shifted his focus to us.

      And where are you all headed?

      Various versions of where everyone was going started pouring out. Someone said they were going to uncles and aunts, someone to grandmothers and grandfathers. I probably had one of the best stories: I said I was going to Kyrgyzstan for a mountain hike, and I had all the necessary gear that I could show if needed. After everyone finished their stories, the border guard erupted and started expressing his thoughts loudly, almost shouting.

      After mobilization started, everyone abroad suddenly had grandmothers, grandfathers, and distant relatives who urgently needed visiting! What are you telling me here?!

      After his verbal tirade, my fears and anxiety increased even more. The border guard clearly vented out everything that had built up in him throughout the day, turned around, and silently returned to the booth, and we lined up again. I also took my place at the end of the line. The guys presented their passports, answered one or two questions, got their stamps, and walked back to our car, which had already passed the inspection.

      And now the moment arrived when it was my turn. My heartbeat accelerated, my wrists trembled slightly, and a lump formed in my throat that I tried to swallow before approaching the window. Gathering my emotions, I greeted and handed over my international passport. Although an internal passport would have been sufficient for crossing the border, my passport had a stamp indicating that I was subject to military service, which could raise additional questions.

      The border guard didn't respond to my greeting or even raise his eyes to me, not asking a single question. He simply scanned and flipped through my passport, stamped it, and returned it to me. I just said "thank you" and, with my heart pounding a million beats per minute, returned to the car where my fellow travelers congratulated me on successfully passing the border. But I still couldn't relax because I had lingering concerns related to the Kazakh border.

      In some Telegram chats, unpleasant individuals wrote that Kazakhstan intends to soon close its land borders due to a large influx of people. Such news circulated throughout the following week, and occasionally, unpleasant rumors surfaced, but nobody knew how reliable they were.

      We set off towards the Kazakh border. After passing the barrier, we caught sight of a new queue, which was not the only one. It began almost immediately after crossing the barrier.

      It was nearly nine o'clock, and we stepped out of the car to breathe in the fresh night air and stretch our legs. There were three queues, unlike at the Russian border. The first one was for trucks, the second for cars with Kazakh license plates, and the third for cars with Russian license plates. Since we had Armenian plates, we were instructed to join the queue with Russian plates. This meant that we would have to wait for a long time, as the queue was probably 3-4 kilometers long.

      I informed the guys that I would take a short walk and try to find Misha and the others who had agreed to give him a lift. I was curious about how they were doing and if everything had gone well for them. I walked about one kilometer but couldn't find them.

      My search was interrupted by a phone call from Kolya, my fellow traveler. I picked up the phone, and he spoke very quickly and excitedly.

      "Leha, where are you? We're heading towards the border through the Kazakh queue. Catch up with us."

      I don't think I've ever run as fast as I did that day. I ran for about two kilometers, maybe slightly less, panting but managed to catch up with them.

      Our car was second in line after his brother's car. I hopped inside and found out what was going on. The brothers who transported cars had managed to arrange with the border guards to pass through this queue, bypassing all the other cars with Russian plates, for a symbolic fee.

      There were many dissatisfied people, even a Kazakh car that arrived after us tried to squeeze in earlier. But the bribe had already been paid, and the border guards themselves didn't allow it to pass ahead of us.

      We waited for about half an hour until we were given permission to proceed. And there it was, the final step to cross the border. The document and vehicle inspection procedure with the Kazakh border guard went smoothly, faster, and easier. As soon as we entered the territory of Kazakhstan, a loud cheer erupted in the car from everyone present. Thus began not a chapter, but a new book in my life titled "The Traveler."

      September 25st.

      The guys agreed with the driver to go to Almaty for an additional 2500 rubles per person. However, for me, it was enough to reach Uralsk, the nearest major city in Kazakhstan near the Russian border, that night.

      While crossing the border, I contacted my friends Masha and Andrey, whom I had recently met during my first visit to Kyrgyzstan. Andrey helped me find accommodation for the night by providing me with the contacts of his friends who had crossed the border a couple of days ago.

      I was dropped off near a cafe at a gas station where I arranged to meet Andrey's friends. I connected to Wi-Fi and messaged them that I had arrived at the designated spot. The guys were no longer there; they had called a taxi for me to take me to their place.

      The car arrived quickly, and it was some old DEO model. I put my belongings in the trunk, sat in the back passenger seat, and noticed a woman wearing a hijab sitting next to the driver. From their conversation, I understood they were husband and wife. In about twenty minutes, they drove me to my destination. It was already past one in the morning. I was greeted by Andrey's friend, Pasha, with whom I had been corresponding.

      Their house had only two rooms, a kitchen, and a living room. They paid quite a large sum for such a modest house, but due to the high influx of tourists, property prices had skyrocketed. Besides Pasha, there were about seven other people living in the house. They all worked for the same company in Tolyatti.

      Pasha offered tea and cookies, to which I gladly agreed since I was quite hungry, and having something to eat would be helpful. The guys retreated to one of the rooms to discuss something. Pasha stayed with me, keeping me company. I shared a bit about myself and how I met Andrey.

      After the tea, Pasha showed me to the second room with a folding couch and told me I could sleep there. There weren't enough beds for everyone, of course. The guys slept on mattresses they had laid out on the floor around the room. I had a neighbor on the couch, and there was another person on a mattress in the opposite corner of the room. There was no shower in the house, so I freshened up using the sink and went to sleep.

      In the morning, I set out to find a place to buy a phone case, exchange money, and, of course, get a SIM card since I couldn't activate the SIM card I bought yesterday evening after crossing the border. It turned out that it was impossible to activate it without the SIM card box, which I, of course, threw away without realizing it would be needed.

      I found a shopping center where I could find almost everything I needed, except for a favorable exchange rate. I left my passport with the girl who was processing the SIM card and followed the map to locate the nearest bank branch to exchange money. The first bank branch I entered turned out to be closed. The second one was open, but they didn't exchange rubles. I plotted a route on the map to another bank branch and set off on my way.

      On the way, I had a conversation with an elderly Slavic-looking woman who asked me who I was and where I came from. We started talking, and I told her what I was doing here and where I was heading. She said she was also going to the bank to exchange tenge for rubles and offered to help each other. I decided not to refuse such an opportunity, and it would save the grandma from going to the bank. We completed the exchange at the rate shown on the internet. After thanking her and saying goodbye, I turned back towards the shopping center to retrieve my passport.

      Having completed all my tasks, I called my brother on WhatsApp. After chatting for a couple of minutes, I told him that I had left the country and was currently in Kazakhstan. My brother asked me what I would do and what my plans were. Besides the small plan of reaching the city of Zhitiqara, where Masha and Andrey are currently located, I didn't have any other plans yet. I asked my brother not to tell anyone in the family about