Waiting for Professor Gül

Sunday, August 25, 2019, I start the day with a bowl of porridge and fried peach halves. Then I pack my stuff and enjoy a coffee at the Flora Hostel in Baku. It is already noon when I make my way to the train station with Rango. Shortly after four, a train departs for Şirvan, which hopefully takes us all the way to Baş Ələt. On the way, I treat myself to a pair of shoes, as the sneakers I have been wearing since Mingəçevir are not suitable for longer distances. Then it's time to wait at the train station. Tickets are available directly on the train. I cannot find a place for Dicken there, so I can't find out at the station. Shortly before four, I go to the platform, the train is ready, but there is no staff to be seen. I wait for a while on the platform and then sneak into an empty wagon with Dicken. The train has been standing in the sun for a while, I sweat while sitting and Rango is clearly struggling with the temperatures. Shortly before departure, a railway worker appears. We are allowed to stay, but have to change wagons. With the start of the journey, a gentle breeze blows through the train and the stay becomes more pleasant. After about 7 km, we are still in Bakı at the Keşla stansyasi, the train stops unusually long. One or the other railway worker runs through the train compartments, checking fuse boxes and raising and lowering the pantographs on the roof of the train. Then we have to get off the train, we have a breakdown. We wait with the other passengers for a replacement and Rango uses the time to charm a few girls. After an hour, the next train is ready and we can continue. We leave the train in Baş Ələt around seven, I buy something small and head southeast with Rango. We are accompanied by a group of teenagers who become increasingly pushy. A resident gives me a bag of fruit before we leave the village and walk along a country road to the port area. After almost two hours of walking, I can immediately get a ticket for the ferry upon arrival. Dicken can also come on board for free. The departure date is set for August 27, which is also the expiration date of my visa. Perfect timing. I set up my tent right next to the border police building, take a shower in a container, and lie down.

I spend Monday quite relaxed at the port. I set up my camp, listen to some podcasts, and wait. In the meantime, I receive the good news from Flora Hostel that my slightly delayed registration has been accepted by the Azerbaijani immigration authorities. In the afternoon, a progressively strong gusty wind blows, which could delay the arrival of the ferry. The exact departure time for the ferry cannot be determined throughout the day. The responsible port workers can't provide me with more than a shrug.

On Tuesday, August 27, 2019, after breakfast, I pack my things. I inform the border police that my visa expires at midnight. According to the border guard, it would be better if I crossed the border before twelve, otherwise I would have a problem. I already suspected that. In the afternoon, more backpackers arrive at the port, making the waiting time a bit more lively. Anna and Pablo are cycling eastwards and are temporary companions. Melanie and Jeoffrey are on their way to Japan and have decided against flying. Markus and Ali are backpackers like me, without a specific destination. But we all want to cross the Caspian Sea. In the late evening, it becomes clear that I probably won't be able to board the ferry before midnight. I treat myself to a soup at the port pub and let Pablo invite me for a coffee. Then it's midnight and we are still waiting in front of the ticket counter at the port.

Anna and Melanie have already given up and gone to sleep when, in the night between Tuesday and Wednesday, the passport control finally starts around half past one. Markus, Ali, and our French couple can pass through the border control without any problems. Then it's my turn with Dicken. It goes smoothly at first, until I truthfully answer "Yes" to the question: "Have you ever been to Armenia?" Then things start to get complicated. The border guard tells me that there are problems. The man can't or won't be more specific, but it seems to be an immigration problem. Whatever that means. I am sent across the port to another office of the border guards, which is not staffed at night. Even an employee of the ferry company doesn't really know what to do. I go back to the border post. The guys want to send me to the immigration office in Baku, which I refuse due to the duration of my visa. I make it clear that I have to leave the country today. They make phone calls and act busy while I have to wait at the border hut. Then I'm offered to pay a fine of 400 Manat. I bluff and claim that I can't withdraw that much money in one day. Then they explain to me that I will be deported if I refuse or can't pay. When the answer to the question "Where to?" is "Kazakhstan", I decide on deportation. I have to wait for a while, get my stamp in the passport, and finally check in one and a half hours after my new acquaintances on the ferry named "Professor Gül". Since my name is no longer on the passenger list (the employee on land, whom I asked about my immigration problem, deleted me prematurely), I also have to wait a bit here. Anna keeps me company in the meantime and takes care of Rango, while I receive my room key. It must have been around half past four when I finally throw myself into my bunk. There is a small breakfast at nine. Boiled eggs, cheese, butter, jam, and bread are offered. A tea helps wash it down. After the feast, I check on Dicken, who has to stay on deck, take a shower, and lie down again. The last day at the port has been exhausting. After lunch (lentil soup with bread, from which I can get a portion for Dicken, as well as noodles with fried chicken), I stroll around, doze off, and listen to podcasts. After dinner (lentil soup with bread, and rice with fried chicken, from which there is also something for Dicken) we sit on the deck for a while before I retreat to my cabin and fall asleep quickly.

In the night before Thursday (August 29, 2019), I am awake again around half past three and take a walk on board. Dicken dozes off in his spot, a trucker sits in the communal room and sleeps, otherwise no one is to be seen. Almost a bit eerie. On the top deck of the ferry, there is a magnificent view of the starry sky, with no artificial light disturbing the view. I enjoy the sight for a while and then retreat to my cabin again. Breakfast is once again at nine. The view from the window suggests that we are already on the Kazakh coast. In fact, the ferry docks in the port of Kuryk while we are still eating. So it's time to pack up and disembark after the passport control. Everything goes smoothly, the Kazakhs in uniform are very friendly and seem quite relaxed. We are driven from the port area to the next station by a minivan, where our passports are inspected again. Someone seems to have lost the key to a door there and we are asked to slide our documents under the door slit. A short time later, we receive the documents back the same way, before someone finally finds the key to the door and we can leave the port area. In the meantime, we were able to negotiate a reasonable price for a taxi to Aktau. The taxi driver takes 5 people, backpacks, and Rango in his car. I take a seat in the front passenger seat, Rango finds a spot in my footwell, while Markus, Ali, Melanie, and Joeffrey are positioned on the back seat of the vehicle, with my backpack on their lap. The Kazakh clearly enjoys the challenge and probably also the money he earns with us. We drive through mostly flat, dry steppe landscape and can see sheep, horses, and even some camels or dromedaries by the roadside. In addition to the Asian phenotype of most Kazakhs, another indication that we are now in Asia. After about 90 km, we get off at the southern end of the provincial capital and set off on foot into the city. We take a break at a coffee bar, can get Kazakh SIM cards, and also find some beef heart for my four-legged companion. Then we find a place to camp, near the waterfront promenade close to the city center. We set up our camp, organize dinner, and let the first day in Kazakhstan come to an end. A good start.