Our Big Kazakhstan Adventure

To be honest, the “adventure” part was really just two days. I mean, we were IN Kazakhstan longer than two days. But most of that time we were just hanging out in the apartment we rented in Almaty. Because at first we were kind of sick. Then at the end we were kind of tired. Although we mostly did the same stuff either way. Like, walked to restaurants and stopped off for bananas and water and talked about how many trees there are in Almaty. But that didn’t really take up all of our time. There was still time left over to watch some shows and read and watch a bit of soccer. And then, once we were feeling pretty good again, we signed up for a 2-day tour so we could go see some of the coolest stuff in that part of Kazakhstan.

I said “that part of Kazakhstan” because, in case you didn’t know, Kazakhstan is HUGE. Like, way bigger than Belgium. It’s not even close, really. That’s the part Borat didn’t tell us, just how big Kazakhstan is. Or that it’s not all just dusty little villages and stuff. I mean, Almaty is actually a pretty modern city, all things considered. But that’s not to say there aren’t some dusty little villages, too. We actually went and saw one, now that I think about it.

Our site includes affiliate links to products we recommend. If you use one to make a purchase, we earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thanks for your support!

The company we went with was called Kazakhstan Very Nice. Which could just be a weird name that they thought sounded cool. Or maybe a strange translation, that happens sometimes. But most likely it’s from Borat, because of, you know, the way he always says that exact thing. “Kazakhstan… very nice!” With a kind of crazy accent.

As it turns out, we never really heard that accent while we were in Kazakhstan. Of course, almost nobody talked to us in English, so you don’t really notice the accent as much as the fact they’re speaking a whole different language and all that. Kazakh, I guess, although they use Russian a lot, too. Which didn’t really matter much, in the end, because we speak the same amount of Russian as we speak Kazakh. Which is to say, not a whole lot. Hello. Thank you. Toilet. But that one only because it can actually kind of be pronounced as “toilet” in all three languages. Very nice.

Also, fun fact, apparently Borat was banned in Kazakhstan for a long time. The movie, too, not just the person. I guess the government didn’t think he was being totally honest about Kazakhstan or whatever. A few years ago, though, they apparently gave up and decided, hey, this guy’s just some tool, who cares about his dumb movie. So now anyone in Kazakhstan can watch it if they want. But our guide, Didi, said she still hasn’t seen it, even though she works for a company with a Borat name and all. I don’t blame her, though, it’s not exactly a classic or anything.

As it turns out, Kazakhstan Very Nice wasn’t the best at letting us know stuff by WhatsApp, but they were very good at having a big bus that fit everyone, no problem. 37 of us, I think. I heard 39 once but maybe we lost a couple along the way. I hope not, for their sake, but still, leaving with 39 and coming back with 37 is still pretty successful, I’d say.

And the people on the bus were from literally all over the place. I can’t remember how many different nationalities there were but it was, like, a LOT. There were some other Canadians, as always, plus some French, obviously, and then also Chinese, Indian, Australian, Korean, German, British, Albanian, Japanese and Singaporean. We even met a couple women from Mauritius. Which was a first, I think. For us, I mean. They’ve probably met loads of other Mauritians. One girl from France gave up her seat so Laynni and I could sit together, which was nice. Or maybe she just didn’t like the idea of sitting next to me for the next two days. Which wouldn’t be as nice of a reason, but still worked out pretty well for us.

The trip didn’t start out super exciting or anything. First Didi – she was our guide – gave a big speech about how we were gonna need cash for a bunch of things so if we didn’t have cash, well, we should probably get some. Then, like, right away, we stopped at a gas station that actually had an ATM. Perfect timing. Then we basically just drove for, like, 3 hours. We did pass through some sort of cool hills and canyons after a couple hours.

While we were driving Didi told us lots of stuff about Kazakhstan, things like how even though Astana is the capital Almaty is actually the best city in Kazakhstan, which is pretty handy since that’s where she’s from, and I think she also told us a bit about air pollution, then something about bread, I think. I finally felt like I understood Kazakhstan.

Eventually we made it to a place called Moon Canyon. Which I wasn’t too sure about, since it was the middle of the day and everything so, you know, was Moon Canyon really the best use of our time? Well, yeah, it kind of was. Turns out the moon part is just a name, it doesn’t have much to do with the real moon. It’s just a pretty canyon with a river and sort of badlands hills that we could climb around on and stuff like that. Looked a bit like Drumheller, to be honest. Without all the obnoxious dinosaur stuff, though. I guess the Kazakhs are more about just letting bygones be bygones when it comes to their dinosaurs. Which I totally get. I mean, bones? Let’s get serious.

There was also a guy waiting at the canyon with a big-ass eagle. At first I thought maybe they were going to do some hunting together or something but I watched them for a bit and it didn’t seem like it, they were mostly just sitting in the shade together. So I thought maybe, you know, they were old friends getting together to shoot the shit, that kind of thing. But then I saw this woman from our group head over and start talking to them, and next thing you know she’s getting all dressed up in these, like, old robes and stuff, and her friends start taking photos of her and the guy AND the eagle, a really confusing group, to be honest, but quite the photo, I’ll give them that. Then she gave the guy some money, which seemed like a nice thing to do.

We were only planning to stay for about 20 minutes but we ended up staying a little longer waiting for the guy in skinny jeans to make it back. I didn’t pay much attention but I’ll bet those pants really held him back on some of the hills.

Our next stop was at Black Canyon and, kind of like Moon Canyon, the name didn’t seem to mean a whole lot. I mean, it was a bit dark, at least as far as canyons go but, I don’t know, “black” seemed like a stretch. The bathrooms were nice, though, with little lights to let you know if someone was inside so you didn’t have to try opening the door and either, you know, just freak the person out inside with all the rattling and such, or maybe walk right in on them because they didn’t remember to lock it. That happens a lot, I find, way more than it should, in my opinion. If you ask me, it makes a lot more sense to just lock the door when you’re in there, instead of letting strangers walk in on you. But maybe I’m just too caught up in the whole idea of peeing alone, maybe that’s an old-fashioned way of looking at things.

After we started driving again Didi gave everyone their very own litre of water and, you know, kind of implied there was more where that came from, wink wink, and then she just talked and talked, like, I’m not sure she had a real plan, just kind of kept saying whatever popped into her head, which was pretty entertaining, really. That was how we learned about the whole Borat being banned business, so it was informative and it passed the time, two for one, eh, and then eventually we made it to this dusty little village called Saty (remember I was talking about that earlier?) and stopped at a guesthouse for lunch.

They gave us chicken and potato stew. It was called something else, though, I think, some whole Kazakh-y name, I think, but more or less it was chicken and potato stew and it was really good. Then Didi got to work figuring out where everyone was going to sleep. Later, I mean, since it was only 2 pm.

The first thing she asked was if we wanted a private room or shared room. Private, I think. Yeah, definitely private, if that’s an option. Not sure what she was suggesting, really, maybe we were giving off a vibe or something. Hey, sure, live it up, right? But maybe not in this dusty little village, places like that seemed more about sleeping and taking pictures of horses and stuff like that. The swinging stuff could wait for a city, I think. Although our room was quite nice and surprisingly new, it definitely wouldn’t be the worst place to explore your sexuality. Good shower, even.

Once that was all sorted we hit the road again, this time to Kolsai Lake. It’s a pretty big lake surrounded by hills, and the same way the canyon looked like Drumheller, this lake looked like something you’d find around Banff. Totally including our bus full of tourists, obviously. It was really scenic and quite a big hit with the photo-taking crowd. Which is everybody these days, more or less.

The lake was about a 15-minute walk down a steep hill from the parking lot so by the time we got there we could tell that we were probably going to have to walk all the way back up at some point, too, and we could already tell some people weren’t loving that whole idea. So some of them just looked around for good sitting places and started saving up their energy. Smart. There was beer for sale, too, and I think a few people factored that into their decision.

But for this stop we had lots of time, like, over 2 hours, and even more choices. You could sit and rest. Or you could sit and eat. Or sit and drink. Or you could hike, which is what we did because, yeah, it’s kind of what we always do, and we aren’t all that creative. So we followed this nice path along the side of the lake that went all the way to the other end. And back, of course. 6 km altogether and more hills that we expected but that’s the thing with hiking, it’s always more work than you expect. Unless you’re in really good shape, I guess, but I don’t know much about that. We did take a short break to use our bodies to make a 77 for my dad’s 77^th birthday and I think we did a pretty good job, all things considered. I’m not very flexible but most of the time my arms are pretty straight, which generally works good for doing 7’s. Or 1’s. 3 is a tough one. We usually skip those birthdays.

Some of the people rented those little pedal-boat things and puttered around out on the lake, getting as close as possible to the water without actually getting wet, which you could tell they liked. Other people paid to ride some guy’s horses.

On the drive back to the village, Didi played Rasputin really loud. I’d never really paid much attention to the lyrics before and, hey, did you know he was actually Russia’s GREATEST love machine? Pretty high praise, I guess, and what with all the Russian stuff in Kazakhstan, I can see why the Kazakhs really admire him.

Supper was kind of similar to lunch, pretty good, then Didi got out this banjo-looking thing – a “dombra” she said, and I didn’t know much about it so I didn’t argue – then played a couple really catchy songs. Very upbeat, sort of intense, and apparently one of them was even used by President Erdogan in his Turkish political ads, which isn’t something you can say about just any song, that’s for sure.

We got started really early the next day, heading to see another lake, they told us. On day 1 everyone sat in the same bus seats all day which seemed like the civilized thing to do, especially because we usually left stuff on them whenever we got off. I think most of us thought day 2 would be the same, just easier that way, I think, but oh no, a couple girls weren’t having it, they just up and sat in some other girls’ seats. Not such a big deal, you’d think, but man oh man, it set off a real chain reaction. We were happy we got there early and got our normal spots, not cuz they were anything special, but they were familiar, you know, and I never like learning new things. And I felt like I already knew enough about those bus seats.

But, what with all the moving around, a whole bunch of other people had to kind of figure things out on fly, always starting with that same confused look, like they were wondering if they might be only imagining those were their seats, because people are always saying memory’s a funny thing and all. But, no, eventually they would realize that some other people were just sitting in their seats. So, of course, then they had to take someone else’s seats, and so on, and pretty soon everyone was either looking confused, annoyed or trying to come up with a facial expression that would let everyone know that they KNEW they weren’t in the right seats but that it wasn’t their fault, see, because someone else had already taken theirs. Kind of sheepish, and apologetic, but also a little bit defiant. Like, “hey, what can we do?”, except without the shrug, just face stuff. Altogether, not an easy expression to get right, let me tell you. Annoyed seemed way easier.

Anyway, Kaindy Lake was pretty cool and unique and seriously weird, to be honest. First the bus parked, like, 2 and half kilometres away from the lake and we had to walk even though there was a road nearby that went straight there. I think partly they wanted us to enjoy nature and the metal boardwalk over the river and whatnot, which was pretty cool, I’ll admit, but I think partly it was also because there were some taxi vans you could pay to take you, and also a bunch of guys who seemed real eager to have strangers ride their horses. For money, probably.

Anyway, the whole thing about Kaindy Lake is that is full of old dead trees, but STILL STANDING old dead trees. That’s the twist, I guess. The lake is also surrounded by steep hills and rocks and forests and all the usual cool lake stuff that works so good in photos most of the time, too, but I think most people go there to see the trees. Now, I know that a bunch of dead trees probably isn’t the best sales pitch you’ve ever heard but, hey, just wait, it’s, like, a whole story. Apparently the trees have been dead for, like, a hundred years or something but the lake has this special algae, I think, that keeps the trees from rotting away like most trees do.

Obviously, though, the worry is that even though these trees look cool to us and are probably pretty good for Kazakhstan tourism and all that, it’s tough to know how they feel about being immortal. Like, did they choose it? Or are they suffering through a tortured half-existence, not really here but not really in the tree afterlife, cursed to spend eternity posing for Instagram and being unwilling participants in peace sign selfies? Because I don’t know about you, and I definitely don’t know that much about tree afterlife, but I assume it is probably some beautiful quiet forest way up north with, say, lots of flowers and insects and bears and maybe even caribou. I mean, if it’s far ENOUGH north. And no squirrels, ever.

Either way, most people just took a couple photos and then hung out near the first viewpoint close to the toilet and the smoking area, but a group of us followed a couple of the forest paths, you know, to explore a bit, and we were happy we did because, wouldn’t you know it, we found another viewpoint. Kind of opposite from the first one so, you know, totally different, at least as far as direction goes.

While the others were taking photos there I went a bit farther yet, almost to the end of the lake, which wasn’t really so far, but I didn’t really find any better viewpoints so it wasn’t really worth it, especially because on the way back I surprised this older lady trying to take a sneaky pee next to the path, which was embarrassing for both of us, I think. For me, because I felt bad for her. And embarrassing for her, I assume, because her pants were completely off, which is pretty weird, no matter where you’re peeing. I still lie awake at night sometimes, just trying to figure out what she was up to.

On the way back to the bus we got talking with this nice French guy, which was okay at first, but then it seemed like he only really wanted to talk about one thing, mainly just how much vacation time they get in France, “5 weeks, MINIMUM”, he said, and you could tell by the look he gave us that he was pretty sure that was way better than, you know, Canada, or places like that. We did our best to look impressed, to be nice, cuz, you know, he wasn’t wrong. Just annoying.

Then it seemed like Kazakhstan Very Nice had saved the best for last, I guess, since our last stop was at Charyn Canyon. Kind of like the Grand Canyon, they said. But smaller, they said. But still pretty similar. Not exactly the same, though, so don’t get too excited. So, yeah, overall, I was pretty confused but still really pumped to see it, you know, if only so I could put an end to all the suspense.

And, yeah, it IS a very nice canyon, really looks good in photos and stuff. It’s big, too. Not as big as the Grand Canyon, they were right about that part, but it’s still a lot bigger than your average, run-of-the-mill canyon. And it’s hot and dusty, too, just like all the best canyons, I think.

Charyn Canyon was another one of those places where you could go walking and get tired and sweaty and all that, or you could kind of take it easy, vacation-style, you know? In this case, vacation-style meant riding a golf cart on a paved path along the rim and back. The people on the carts looked pretty happy with their choice, although it was hard to tell if they were happy about how pretty the canyon was or about not doing a tough, sweaty walk down into the canyon or maybe they were really just living in the moment, loving that little breeze they got riding on the cart.

We chose to go down into the canyon, then walked all the way to a nice river, then hiked back out. On the way back up it was hotter but it was getting later and the sun was lower and there was a bit more shade, so pros and cons, right, but either way we eventually veered off onto a path that went straight up the side of the canyon, kind of a shortcut to the rim. So that we could see the high viewpoints, too, and because we thought that would be more efficient and such.

It wasn’t too far to the top but it was steep and slippery. That part didn’t bother us much going up, though, not like the woman trying to come down wearing really bad shoes. And the shoes were just, like, part of it, she also had pretty bad balance and seemed very afraid and also quite annoyed, from what I could tell, even though there were several people helping her. Maybe she was very appreciative on the inside, it’s hard to say for sure. She was definitely annoyed on the outside, though. Like maybe she didn’t really want to be coming down that path at all but the people with her, well, they said it would be fine. Even though it wasn’t really. That’s Laynni’s theory.

I think maybe she was actually more of a golf cart person but didn’t really WANT to be a golf cart person, maybe she really wanted to be a steep shortcut path person, or, who knows, maybe she just had some terrible golf cart trauma in her past. You never know what other people are going through. Especially when it comes to golf carts.

When we finally got back to the visitor centre we were hot and tired and sort of hungry, but we still didn’t want to pay $US3 for a knock-off Revel ice cream bar. A person has to draw the line somewhere, even when it comes to treating yourself. Or your wife, I guess.

From there it was a pretty quiet ride back to the city, like, 3 hours or so with almost everyone sleeping. Real peaceful, like a yoga retreat in India or after there’s been a big mass suicide in a cult. We could tell right away, though, when we were getting close to Almaty again on account of all the huge, gaudy restaurants with big pillars and flashy outside lights and grand names, like “Sultan Restaurant” and “King Restaurant” and “Grand Restaurant”. And then after that, we could tell we were fully in Almaty on account of all the huge, gaudy hotels with big pillars and flashy outside lights and grand names like “Millenium Hotel” and “Biarritz Hotel” and “Grand Hotel”.

Then we started dropping people off and everyone was getting out in different places and it turned out we were the very last stop, which meant we got back pretty late, but I guess we could look at the bright side and say we got the most bang for our buck. At least, in a “maximum time on the bus” kind of away. Score.

As we watched the bus pull away, maybe we didn’t shed a tear, exactly, but we still felt a little sad for a moment, and kind of gave this sad wave but I don’t think they saw us, they were probably just so happy to have the whole bus to themselves finally. I mean, Didi could sit anywhere she wanted now. I wonder which seat she picked. We couldn’t see inside very well, though, so I guess we’ll never know, and then the walk light turned green and we figured we better get moving.

Anyway, Kazakhstan, you’re all right. Very nice, I guess.

Pin it for later!

Other Posts You Might Like:

Karakol or Jyrgalan: How to Choose the Perfect Kyrgyzstan Trekking Base

Ala Kul Trek: A Classic Kyrgyzstan Mountain Hike

Kazakh Touring

Gobi or Go Home

Our Mongoliad: Ulaan Baatar

My Night on the Trans-Mongolian

Just Another Pic on the Great Wall of China

Nepal: Things to Know Before Visiting

Bhutan: Your Druk Path for a Bowl of Cheese