Through the Horizons. Part 1. Escape. Алексей Бардаков

departure for now because I planned to tell them myself when the right time came.

      After ending the conversation with my brother, I called my sister. Our conversation revolved around the same topic as with my brother. I also asked her not to mention it to anyone for now, and my sister and I agreed that it wasn't necessary to directly tell our mother about my departure. My sister said she would talk to our mother about it and lead her to the decision that it would be good if I did leave. It was a reasonable approach because I wasn't ready to confess my departure to my mother yet and didn't know how she would react to it.

      Upon returning, Pasha said that he had an acquaintance who could help me find temporary accommodation, and he gave me Igor's contact information. The guy was also from Russia, and he left on the first day after the mobilization announcement. He quickly found good people who could assist those who were hastily leaving the country. Thanks to Igor, I met Dasha, who allowed me to stay with her so that I could think about my next steps.

      My mind was in complete disarray, with thousands of thoughts intertwined. The only thing I understood was that I should start saving money because I didn't have remote work, and I also had no idea where I would be heading or how I would proceed.

      In addition to me, there was another guy named Artem in this apartment. He had been living here for a couple of days, waiting for his flight to Armenia. Dasha told me about places and things I could find, and she mentioned that there was hot water available. It was the best news for me today; I had already started to miss hot showers.

      After freshening up, Dasha, Artem, and I went for a walk around the city and stopped by a local sports store. I wanted to check the prices of backpacks and other supplies in case I decided to hitchhike, as the idea had been lingering in my mind. To my surprise, the backpack shelves were almost empty, and there wasn't much to choose from. I decided to check in another city when I moved on.

      On our way back, we got hungry and stopped at a place known for serving the most delicious shawarma in Uralsk. After having a snack, we headed home to rest. Since Artem and I had planned to go to the Centralized Service Center (ЦОН) early the next morning, the local equivalent of the Russian MFC, we needed to obtain a document there in order to apply for a bank card.

      September 26st.

      We woke up half an hour later than planned, and when we arrived at the Centralized Service Center (CSC), there was already a queue of more than 150 people standing outside in the cold. As it turned out, there was another queue inside the building, accommodating an equal number of people as the one outside. After 15 minutes, a notebook reached us with over three hundred names of people who were ahead of us in the queue, and they implemented this system. The queue was moving very slowly, and after about half an hour, a man came out of the building to whom you could ask your question.

      A crowd of people gathered around him, and as far as possible, they took turns asking their questions. After 15 minutes, we managed to ask our question and received a not-so-optimistic answer. The task we were waiting for would take at least three more days, which neither Artem nor I had the time for.

      Artem is leaving tomorrow, and I'm heading towards Zhitikara the day after, where my hitchhiker friends Masha and Andrey live, whom I mentioned yesterday.

      I've already started thinking about where I'll go after Kazakhstan and in which country I can stay the longest and find a job in the restaurant business.

      I remembered my first visit to Goa, India in 2019. It was a wonderful nine days, although I injured my foot in the middle of the vacation, and it only worsened by the end of it. Upon returning home, I had to undergo surgery due to an infection in my foot. However, this situation didn't spoil my impression of India; instead, it ignited a desire to visit remote and non-touristy places in the country.

      In the evenings, I read information about the countries in Southeast Asia, the climate, ticket prices, and accommodation. After deciding to choose India, I started filling out the application for a five-year visa. After a couple of hours of leisurely completion, I finally managed to independently finish filling out the application and proceeded to make the payment. I couldn't pay the fee with my Russian bank cards, and I hadn't obtained a Kazakhstani one yet. I had to postpone this endeavor for more favorable times.

      September 27st.

      Artem left in the morning, and my day was dedicated to planning how I would get to Zhitikara. There were no bus tickets available, and the train wasn't suitable either because it goes through Russian territory, where border guards inspect documents. In the Telegram chats, there were already reports of cases where people were removed from the train. I didn't want to take any risks, so the only option left was to find a car through Telegram channels heading in the direction I needed.

      The whole day was spent searching for a car because everyone was traveling to Almaty and didn't want to take passengers halfway. The price for such a service was astronomical, of course. However, I managed to find a car for tomorrow to the city of Aktobe, which was 470 km away from Uralsk, for one and a half thousand rubles. It was the best price available at that time and in the direction I needed, from where I could try to find a bus to Zhitikara. So, I didn't waste any time and started packing my things in the evening, making sure not to forget anything.

      September 28st.

      Morning came, and I was ready for the next stage of my journey. By 10 o'clock in the morning, the car arrived, I said goodbye to Dasha, and set off on my way to a new city called Aktobe. While I was in the car, I had time to search for accommodation. I didn't know where I would stay or if I would find anything for the night because even a week after the announcement of partial mobilization, there was utter chaos in the chats, and housing prices remained astronomical. After a few hours of unsuccessful searching for accommodation, I finally received a long-awaited message from some guy.

      Hello, can I help you?

      Hello, is it about accommodation?

      Yes.

      Is it in Aktobe? What's the price?

      Are you a girl or a young man?

      I'm a guy, alone.

      How should I address you?

      My name is Alex, and what's your name?

      I'm Timas. You can call me Tim for short. We have a two-bedroom apartment. We're students. There are three of us, and we can arrange ourselves in the living room while you'll have the bedroom. There's a double sofa in the room. If you want, there's a bathroom you can use. We'll also provide food and drinks, don't worry. As for the price, I don't know. Let's talk about it in terms of what you're willing to give, whatever you can afford. I just want to help people.

      I agree to any accommodation conditions, even if it's on the floor. It doesn't matter to me. I'll arrive in Aktobe at 6 o'clock in the evening from Uralsk. And in the morning, I'll be looking for a way to continue my journey. I just need to know how much money to offer you… Around 5-6 thousand tenge?

      Well, if you're willing, we'll be waiting for you.

      I'm willing.

      Regarding the price, as I said, whatever you can spare.

      Alright, thank you so much. I can be driven to the address. But I'll be there around 5-6 in the evening.

      Address: Toleu Aldiyarov 6, Sazdi District.

      Thanks again.

      Alexey, sorry for the silly question. But could you tell us a little bit about yourself so we know who we'll be spending the night with? How old are you, where are you from, and so on?

      I'm 29 years old, divorced. I'm from Moscow, lived there for 10 years, worked in the restaurant industry as a waiter, bartender, and manager. Originally from Crimea.

      That's all good, we'll be waiting.

      While we were driving, I spotted a couple of sports stores and a bus stop in the city of Aktobe, where I definitely needed to stop by.

      As promised, I arrived at six in the evening. Timas, a tall Kazakh guy of average build, greeted me and helped with my belongings by taking one of my backpacks.

      When I entered the apartment,