Alexander Makovetsky, which, as I said, we have sheltered themselves in Alma-Ata, the uncle of an old friend of Maxim. For all the days (11-14 July), we held in Alma-Ata, Alexander moved us just a few words. Most of the time, Alexander was watching TV, smoked cigarettes and hid until the middle gobies throughout the apartment (in black, I suppose, day). Alexander's wife, Svetlana, was on a business trip, but the house lived a huge black cat named Sid. In Sid difficult times - we want a woman. But, as the cats were around every five minutes Sid furiously fuck miserable torn to pieces a teddy bear.

The night after our arrival we went for a walk. Window exchanger, where we exchanged dollars for Kazakh tenge, was completely covered by a plastic curtain, only a hole for money openly. You come to such a exchanger and never quite sure that there is someone there, it all works, then you are somehow resolved shove money into the opening and the next moments, not at all sure that you will return something back. We decided that this is done to people has always been on our toes, always a bit on the nerves that knew the value of money and their time.

Several considerations about the Alma-Ata.
Alma-Ata, it is immediately clear, the present and rich southern city. Low light buildings, trees everywhere, hot asphalt, all travel mostly on expensive cars, mostly white. City something similar to Sevastopol, which became rich as a trading Odessa, but managed to maintain a balance between the charm of a rural seaside town and trendy cafes and boutiques. But here's the dangerous part of this wonderful green city: when you walk through the streets and alleys, you're not left feeling that if we now turned the corner, there will be, there simply must be the sea. But the sea here.
But instead it is huge, incredible snow-capped mountain tops. Moskvich quite impossible to believe in this form: how does it do so, the mountains in the city? Photography, which begins this recording was made on the balcony of the apartment Makovetsky. When the three of us, tired of the way, walk around the town all night, came at 6 am for a smoke before bed, then speechless for a moment. In rassvestnoy haze seemed arm's length stretched majestic cliffs. I still think that if it was not a dream, then just a fiction: if someone has pulled in its addictive nature wallpaper.

In order to survive here, you need to remember the first rule of Alma-Ata: a green light does not mean that people can safely cross the road. Drivers in the Alma-Ata absolutely insane. Makovetsky, for example, drives as if it was his last day on earth. Another big trouble with public transportation. Buses and troyllebusy, like every self-respecting Kazakh (all because of the terrible heat), and rarely moves sluggishly. When you finally get in a bus, I understand that the driver most likely a driver's license acquired in a set of Happy sweet with fries and gamburegrom. Every three meters - a sharp brake, a sharp start, jog, stop, do not announce. But the most surprising thing is that you are, nevertheless, in the right place somehow magically falls.
All posters, name schools, restaurants, schools, all the pointers, all billboards and signs are written in two languages - Kazakh and Russian. The exception, for some reason, are just hanging on the houses with the street name plates

Alma-Ata - a beautiful and pleasant eye town. Here, however, impossible to live. From noon until evening incredibly hot, and the absence of the sea, sometimes altogether hopeless. So the day the streets are empty, only the brave, desperate people and the owners of cars with air conditioning, are selected out. In the evening the whole city on the streets.
What is truly surprising in Alma-Ata, is the Kazakhs. They are incredibly beautiful. So beautiful that you are ready to stay in Alma-Ata. All well-groomed, clean skin, nice smile. And even if the girl is not very likable person, that she has in any case, beautiful legs. Never, honestly, not seen in one place so beautiful, shapely female legs. This is, in fact, surprising because it is very fatty foods. For example, lamb. Maybe this is the case when the plus to minus make plus?
But men are large, heavy, moving slowly and reluctantly. And I very quickly realized why. In the morning you find the strength to wake up (here the air is so that you sleep like a log), for some reason to go out, buy the "Green Bazaar" (his trade rows are depicted on the cards), fresh watermelon, a bucket of peaches come home, cook lamb, eat it all, sit on the balcony, lit a cigarette and you realize that this is the end. Just because there is no way to even move. On the street hell, you ate, and fall asleep.


And then you, as a foreign element, somehow suddenly falls down with the disease, though the city itself, taking you by the virus, trying to banish from his body. Who was sick in the summer, to understand how to us then was lousy. In general, the story about how the three of us fell ill with a headache, fever, cough and snot, could end in tears if the house is not returned, finally, Svetlana, his wife Alexandra. Svetlana, cheerful woman, just turned the house in order - gave the cat a kick, gave Alexander bowl cherries, feed us and pokoldovat, handed us a huge circle with a sugary-sweet-smelling orange mass. Svetlana told us to drink swill, just lie on their beds, taking a towel, and go to sleep. At night, she promised, so we peretryaset that morning we will be able to dig trenches and build the Great Wall. If anyone reads these records, I beg you to remember the following: a mixture of rum, aspirin, oblipihovogo jam, hot water, honey and sugar - a monstrous, indigestible, overly sweet, ad nauseam, tangle-legs. But the devil take her, helps.

Tomorrow I will tell how we saved a miracle drug, went to Almaty Kok-Tobe mountain and chased on plastic sled on rails at speeds of 50 km / h.