.....the flight from Houston to
Amsterdam went smoothly—about nine hours but it was business class and I was
able to sleep a little bit. A three hour
layover at Amsterdam and then I find out I was bumped down to economy class for
the flight to Atyrau, Kazakhstan. Turns
out six of us were bumped when the original plane had problems and they used a
smaller plane which didn’t have as big of business class. It was an irritant but the flight was only 4
½ hours and went over Germany and a large part of Russia—including a direct
overflight over Kiev. It was still
daylight when we arrived and, despite all the detailed instructions and
warnings for dealing with the customs over here, I still had problems and am a
little concerned I will have some more problems upon exit.
It is very flat here and does
in fact look a lot like west Texas.
Atyrau is also located on the Caspian Sea and the airport is located
some distance from the city itself. I
was met at the airport, which is always a concern until you see your name on a
sign in the waiting area. From there I
was shuttled about a quarter-mile to the Chevron transit hotel. Again, I had strict instructions not to leave
the waiting area and try to go to the transit hotel on my own—under no
circumstances try to take a local taxi.
No problem, I made it over there ok, and got a room for the evening. Hotel is a bit exaggerated for the facility
here—it’s more like a military barracks.
My tiny room had two bunks but I had it to myself. Other than the room, there’s just shower
facilities—which at this point is very much welcomed—and a cantina which was
already closed. It’s all that’s needed
for an overnight transit stay. The tiny
TV worked, but most of the stations are in Russian—a few in English—but I
turned it on just to check out what the Russians are watching nowadays.
I was lucky: I was scheduled to fly the following morning
to Tengiz—about twenty minutes. The
other alternative would have been to take an eight hour train which consists of
old Russian railroad cars that literally lurch from side to side on the tracks
for eight monotonous hours. My flight left
at 7:00 am and I was to meet at the reception desk at 6:10 to check all my
baggage to be transported by truck to Tengiz.
I was only allowed 11 pounds carry-on for the 20-passenger prop
plane—basically my computer and accessories.
One thing though, you can stuff your pockets full of heavy stuff and,
after they’ve weighed your luggage, you can put it back into your
backpack. As long as it’s only 11 pounds
when they weigh it, it’s ok. Actually,
Devin and I did the same thing with Icelandic Air in Minneapolis a couple of
years ago.
The plane from Amsterdam was
pretty much full of oilfield workers.
Chevron is the largest industry in Kazakhstan and I think also the
largest employers. The workers seemed to
be all sorts of nationalities, several different languages in the airport
waiting area including a lot of what I guessed was Russian, although I can’t
imagine why they would be flying from Amsterdam. One thing I did notice was that almost
nobody was friendly and even seemed hostile in the baggage claim area and
passport lines. Doesn’t affect me, I’ll
be with my own little groups when I get to Tengiz.
I awoke early and went down to
eat “breakfast” at the cantina. I was
issued a meal card and when I went in, I was the only one. The woman behind the serving line wouldn’t
even acknowledge me, much less show me where to scan my card. When I did get it figured out, I asked for
some strange cut of ham and scrambled eggs which were fluffed and filled with
unusual objects. I ate the ham—they did
have Tabasco sauce—but passed on the eggs and ate a couple of rolls
instead. Bread is usually safe—the high
baking heat kills any germs. As people
filtered into the room, I sensed nobody else spoke English but they could talk
to the woman on the serving line, so I’m guessing most of the people here are
Russian-speaking Kazakhs. Again, the
room just felt uncomfortably tense.
I went back to my room and
cleaned up—brushing my teeth with bottled water like I learned in Africa—and
checked my bags for the truck to Tengiz.
Again, the man behind the counter was surly and unhelpful. Limited to only 11 pounds carry-on, I
basically checked everything but my computer and medications meaning I’m down
to one pair of clothes for the next two weeks if the bags aren’t on the truck.
Just before 6:10, I went to
the reception desk and found some Americans there waiting for the plane
too. I got to talking with them and
noticed they all had backpacks and carry-on bags so I asked about the requirement
to check bags and they said that was mostly for the train. In fact, unless I had checked my bags last
night, which I hadn’t, they wouldn’t get to Tengiz for almost two days. I made a mad dash to the baggage guy and made
him even less happy when I retrieved my two bags. The shuttle picked us up and took us over to
the airport where we checked in and I discovered I could only check one
bag. One of the Americans with just a backpack
took one of my bags and checked it under his name. Another potential crisis diverted.
The twenty minute flight was
kind of pleasant and it’s been a while since I’ve flown in a propeller driven
plane. After departing, I was met by a
woman who was to guide me through check-in.
The people here are very much Asian although this used to be a part of
the Soviet Union. The women, in
particular, seem to have very Chinese characteristics.
I got my security badge which
I need for access to almost everything including the cafeterias. We then went and checked out the training
facility and she showed me the routes and where the bus stop was located. This is a really huge oil compound and busses
run on fifteen minute schedules here. We
then picked up my two bags and room key.
There are five very large “domes” with dormitory “arms” extending out
and I couldn’t guess how many thousands of people are being housed here.
My room is small, but very
nice and comfortable with A/C and a TV that I can’t get to work. I rarely watch TV anyway and doubt I even try
to get it fixed. It’s a single bed and
the other person who stays here must be on rotation back home. It has a refrigerator, private bath with a
shower and is everything I need for the next two weeks.
I unpacked and tried, but
couldn’t get on the Internet. I also
realized I was nearly dehydrated. I went
to the commissary to buy some 1 ½ liter bottles of water but she wouldn’t take
dollars so I spent the next thirty minutes walking around trying to ask where
there was a money exchange. Almost nobody
could speak English. Basically I was
told I would have to go off the compound to exchange money, which I’m strictly
forbidden to do. I was really frustrated
and miserably dehydrated when I found an office with a British guy who was
really helpful. He gave me a large
bottle of water and explained that the best way to get money was to go to the
cinema and use the ATM machines. He also
explained that I could purchase an Internet card and showed me where the kiosk
was located. It didn’t open until 4:00
PM. Another concern I had was
alleviated—my adaptor plugs were the correct ones and I can plug my computer
and phone in the wall sockets.
I got some money, bought some
water and paid him back, and then went to lunch. I had been warned the food was “interesting”
and I know at least two other instructors for my company have gotten seriously
sick over here. I got in line, scanned
my card, and the food actually looked pretty good. I got what looked to be Salisbury steak but
ended up having the texture of jerky, sticky rice and a puréed spinach
casserole. The salad bar looked good but
I’m going to wait a couple of days before eating raw vegetables over here. The steak was “interesting” (they did have Tabasco
sauce) but all of a sudden I realized I had eaten everything on my plate. Evidently I had been famished as well as
dehydrated.
After lunch I headed back to
my dorm and realized I was wobbling.
This was now the third day since I left Houston. I got to the room, took a shower and fell
asleep for the rest of the afternoon.
For about three hours in the evening, I got my materials together for
the first day then went back to bed and slept fairly well until early
morning. What really surprised me was
that there was lightening, thunder and heavy rain during the night. The day before I had looked at the dry dust
and thought to myself this must be almost desert conditions.
All and all, I think I was
very fortunate and threaded my way through the labyrinth of travel to a
difficult country—flight adjustments, customs hassles, baggage issues, no
money, no water, no Internet, electrical connections—with good fortune and a
little skill. There was a time when I
really looked forward to, and enjoyed, these challenges. Frankly, it wasn’t as much fun this
time. We’ll see what the first day of
training brings…….
My first training was a
two-day refresher program and the students and program went really well, all
things considered. One of them is not
from here so, because of security clearances, we weren’t allowed to drive in
the compound which left us with a five mile road out to what they call the
“rotation village” for workers who actually work out in the oil fields. The RV, or rotation village, is particularly
depressing—multi-story living quarters with broken windows, some windows boarded
up, and chain link fencing around the ground floor. Reminds me of the old, abandoned Soviet
housing projects, which this probably is.
Somehow people still live in them.
I can’t imagine the conditions and plumbing inside.
At the end of my second
training day and third day here, I still cannont buy an Internet card but
discovered an Internet café with hours of 4:00 to 8:30 and was able to send out
some email messages. I also made contact
with a British guy in management who is responsible for training and he was
able to call the US and discovered all my training materials are stuck in
customs at the capital airport in Atyrau.
I am off tomorrow and start training again Sunday, so I’ll be without
materials for the next class and quite possibly for the rest of the time I’m
here. Over the years, I’ve learned to
deal with these issues, so life—and the training—will go on.
The TV still doesn’t work but
I don’t really miss it. I didn’t bring
books, since I expected to have TV so I’ve started reading the Old Testament
front to back. The first couple of days,
I used the treadmill in the gym but hate those machines. It doesn’t get dark until about 9:30 so the
past two evenings I put on shorts and walk around the compound. There’s a ring road that’s at least two miles
and the evenings are actually very pleasant—the temperature drops and there’s
always a breeze here. In the room, I
plug my Smartphone into the wall and listen to my music while I read doze off,
or prepare for my classes. Life could be
much worse.
The five compounds are
designed around a very large circular dome with “dorms” branching off. My dome has 16 branches while the dome itself
has offices, shops and the cafeteria. I
understand this is very typical Kazak architecture—a circular home and, as the
children marry, each new family builds a hallway, or private home, off the
center structure.
I arrived back to my room
today to find a note in Russian and English informing me that my area had been
sprayed for scorpions. I knew poisonous
snakes were here, but nobody told me about scorpions in the rooms.
The food continues to be
“interesting.” By my second day here, I
went into full vegetarian mode—and only cooked vegetables at that and no water
that isn’t bottled, even for brushing my teeth.
The cinema only shows
Russian-language movies but is not working right now. There is a pub in my dome, but the workers
are between rotations and it doesn’t sell beer.
Coke, but no beer. Lots of things
don’t seem to work over here.
So, for starters on this
trip, I have TV but it doesn’t work; I have Internet but can’t access it; There
is a cinema that doesn’t show movies; and we have a pub that doesn’t serve
beer.
