I Am in Kazakhstan........

.....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.