A Long Bike Ride

First, a comment on cultural differences.

If a car or bike is heading towards me, I don't think about right-of-way, I just get out of the way.  In my hometown, cars don't even think to look for pedestrians, even if they are crossing on a green light in a crosswalk. (I know that there are parts of the US where this is different!)

Here, if pedestrians here think they have the right of way, they'll ignore you, car or bike.  We'll be biking down a narrow sidewalk and Sophia will ring her bell, and sometimes they'll look at us, but rarely they'll move.  Even if there's obviously nowhere for us to go.  I get so frustrated, but I have to tell myself, it's a cultural difference.  They just assume they have right-of-way, and we better work around them.  Which is a nice thought.  And I will work around them, when I can, but I'd appreciate it if they would move out of my way when I can't!

So, biking here can be frustrating, but it can be so wonderful!  The weather right now is mild, the leaves are just starting to change, and yesterday we went on a 6-hour bike ride--my friend, her daughter, my daughter, and me.  We first biked to Mega (the mall by our house) and waited while my friend went inside to the sports store and had someone help her with her headlight.  She'd just bought a headlight for her bike and it wasn't working.

Then, we biked through the big central park and over the pedestrian bridge, maneuvering through pedestrians.  Luckily, as the weather cools, there are less and less of them.

We stopped and watched people on some of the rides--there are amusement park rides in the park, fascinating and scaring Sophia at the same time.

We stopped again at the park on the other side of the river (the one with play equipment designed like gym equipment--so much fun!)  We let the girls play while we checked out a newly opened Irish pub.  A glass of Guiness (not sure how much) is well over $10.  Overall, the prices were very expensive, so although the place looked very nice and was playing Irish music, I'm not sure if we'll come.  Maybe once, just for drinks.

We biked again to the Zhanur shopping center, on Valikhonov Street, in hopes that the supermarket there would have peanut butter, as they used to 3 years ago.  They didn't, but we did find caramel, which was nice.

We biked down Abai Street, checking out two restaurants as we went--an Italian restaurant, which we weren't in the mood for, and another Irish pub.  This one had a more moderately-priced menu, however the place was empty except for a bartender and two guys who just stared at me when I entered and said nothing, but kept on staring, as I asked the bartender for a menu.

They were smoking, too, so we decided this wasn't the place for us, so we biked to the American Bar and Grill (formerly TGI Friday's) and ate there.  We had the flambe, so the girls could be excited when it was set on fire.

By the time we were done, it was getting dark.  My friend had her helmet headlight one, which blinded us when she looked at us.  We biked home, over the bridge called the Rainbow Bridge due to its multicolored lights.

The weather here (currently) and the flat land is perfect for biking!  Astana just needs some bike lanes and a biking culture...

Buying an Apartment in Astana

No, I did not buy an apartment.  But I'm learning more and more about what it means to buy an apartment here, and I'm slowly beginning to understand crazy landlords just a little bit more.

In the US, when you buy an apartment, frequently it's unfurnished, but the appliances are there (oven, refrigerator).  There's also heat, electricity, walls...

On Sunday, I picked up my friend A. and went into her apartment for the very first time.  She lives with her mother, and they own the place.  It's a small yet tidy one-bedroom (no living room).  I asked her about it and learned that when they'd bought it, it had pretty much been an empty box.  The foundation and the exterior walls were there, that's about it.  No furniture, no appliances, no wiring, no bathtub, no walls.  Wow.

If you put that much work into a place, I bet you'd be a bit peculiar about renting it!

Stuck on the Steppe ... again

I guess it's a given, if you live in a place like Kazakhstan, which is mostly vast, desolate flat grassland, and you ever travel, then at some point or another you'll find yourself stuck on the steppe.  And so it was that for the 2nd time in my nearly 4 years that I found myself, and Sophia, stuck outside Astana, surrounded by tall yellowing grass and underneath a deep blue sky.

This time I was with A., who was my assistant the last two years at the school.  (She's still at the school, but I switched to teaching 3rd grade instead of Intensive English.)

At the end of June, before leaving for the US, I drove my cat to a village located an hour north of Astana, on the road that leads to Borovoe (the mountainous resort town).  A co-worker's in-laws live there, and were willing to watch Balthazar over the summer.  They have several cats--village cats that come and go as they please.  These cats usually roam and hunt during the summer, and stay inside during the winter.  The in-laws were willing to watch another cat for a few months, and willing to keep him indoors.

My co-worker and his wife moved to a school in China, leaving me with directions on how to pick up the cat.  Actually, they forgot to give me the directions, and I forgot to ask, until right before I left the US for Kazakhstan, which was around the same time that they left, with their 1-year old, for China.  So in the hectic hassle of moving to a new country with a tiny kid, it took them over a week to respond to me with directions.  By this time, Sophia and I had been in the country for a week and were dying to get our kitty back!

But then, a wonderful Russian co-worker offered to take my car into the shop, where he got bad news--the brakes are in dire need of repair, as are the suspension and shocks.  So instead of rushing off to get Balthazar, I had to wait...

This past weekend the car was not yet fixed, but it also wasn't in the shop, so I decided just to drive extra-cautiously and go and get my cat.  I took A. along just in case I needed her, and am so grateful I did!

We drove north out of Astana, past the outdoor bazaar, and up a long, dusty road, heading towards the freeway that leads to Borovoe.  I was getting low on gas, so once we exited the city limits (quite a ways from the actual city), we saw a gas station and stopped.

I've only gotten gas twice in Astana, and those two times were in June, and A's never gotten gas, so we pulled up to a pump and asked the attendant what to do, clarifying how to go inside and pay.  (They have attendants here, you don't pump it yourself.)

We went inside, paid for a full tank, and then returned to the car.  I turned it on.  The engine sounded funny and we drove for a few meters, but it just felt funny--like the brakes were still on.

I turned it off and tried again.  Still funny.  After a few tries it just sputtered and died.  I tried again and again.  Dead car.

Oh no!

If I hadn't had A. with me, I very well might have cried.  Luckily, it was mid-afternoon, beautiful sky, sunny day... And I knew that since I have a 20-year old car, problems might occur!  Might as well occur on a pleasant afternoon with a Russian translator.

She asked some other drivers for help, they looked inside and said we needed oil.  We were completely out of oil. But... they had no idea what kind.  So we went inside and looked at the oil and tried to call people to find out what to do.  A. got hold of one guy who said that it wouldn't be the oil, it's probably something else.  But we decided to try the oil, and luckily, as we were trying to figure out how to pour it in the car, a guy called out, "Pomosh?" or "Can I help you?"  Two girls and a kid with a broken-down car.  We sure looked like we needed help!  (Sorry for the stereotypes, but in this case, we fit the stereotype of girls not knowing anything about cars.)

So he helped us.  But no avail.  The car wouldn't start.  One of the attendants came up and tried.  His guess was the gas pump.  He said he'd get off in 20 minutes and then would help.

We were very grateful but then I finally got V. on the phone (my Russian co-worker who helps me with my car).  He said not to trust strangers with my car, it was much safer just to call a tow-truck to bring it back to the school, and tomorrow he would get someone to bring it the mechanic that he trusted.  So... no chance for getting my kitty.

A. called the tow truck--8000 Tenge! (over $50).  Then the attendant got off work, and he and a security guy came to help, and we couldn't figure out how to nicely tell that we didn't want any help.  Then, as A. was describing what had happened, the attendant and the security guy jumped in shock.  "Diesel!!!" they shouted.  We'd pulled up to the diesel pump and had put diesel into the car!!

They seemed shocked and rather angry at the attendant who had given us diesel.  Why on earth had he done that?  Sure, we'd pulled up at the diesel pump, but did our car look like a car that used diesel?  Did we look like girls who knew what the heck we were doing?

So... they pushed our car out of the way and then began to get the diesel out of the car.  Now this is a VERY long procedure, especially if you have a full tank.  They had to open the front hood and keep turning the car on, while it made this awful sound, and the gas leaked out.  After some time our battery died, so they had to go get another... and another!

We were there for several hours, and even though the sun was warm, the wind was fierce and cold, and poor Sophia was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  I have no air conditioning in my car, and even when it's slightly cool outside, it gets warm in the car.  And I hadn't expected us to be outside much!

At one point the security guy asked my friend for her phone number.  At another point, they both sat inside the car, discussing it and how nice it was.  A. asked them if it was worth $5000 (the price I'd paid) and they said, definitely, yes.  So, expensive for buying a car in the US, but not in Kazakhstan!

Finally, at around 6 pm (we had left Astana around 2), the car was empty, and they rolled it up to a regular gas pump and put gas in it.

They tested it, and the attendant rode it around really fast while my friend yelled out to him in Russian, "The brakes don't work well!"  At one point he wheeled quickly towards the security guy, who, instead of getting out of the way, leaned over to look under the car as it braked in front of him.  He's lucky he didn't get his head chopped off.

Finally, we paid the men what they asked for (5000 Tenge, about $33), and we were off.  I was desperate to get my cat back, although I knew I was risking it!

We had no further problems on our trip.  When we arrived at the house, it looked deserted, which greatly worried me, but they were home.  Balthazar was curled up on a couch, near the other cats, and he was quite content.  He had grown over the summer and his fur was thicker.  In general he looked healthier.  I thanked them profusely and then we returned home.

We had left at 1:30 pm and returned at 9:30 pm.  The village is only about 60 kilometers north of Astana.  Most of the day had been spent stuck on the steppe.

And now my car is in the shop and it will be some time and quite a bit of money before I see it again.  But I'm okay with that.  I've lived in this city for 3 years without a car, I can live a few more weeks.  As long as I have my cat.

A Russian Wedding

This past Saturday I got to experience my first real Russian wedding. I'd been to two last year, but both were Russian/Kazakh-American.

My assistant for the past two years, Y., was marrying her boyfriend of five years. Five years is a long time to wait for a proposal in Kazkhastan.

I got to witness bits and pieces of the planning, which were very similar to what I know about planning a wedding in the US—lots of tiny details, lots of stress, lots of time, lots of money. I watched her choose wedding invitations, narrowing it down to three that she couldn't decide between. I watched her try to figure out how to make a guest book (an American thing, I think, since she couldn't buy one here and had to make her own). I watched her stress about the candles at the restaurant... The same things an American bride stresses about in the months leading to her wedding.

I don't know how much the whole thing cost, but I do know that her wedding dress cost more than my sister's. (And it was incredibly beautiful.)  But this is a city where a typical salary is about $300 a month, so that makes the wedding suddenly so expensive!

The wedding started at 5:30 pm and at 4:50 I was finishing up my hair when my Kazakh friend came over to watch Sophia. She offered to help with my hair, and as I worried about being late—the restaurant was located over a half hour drive away—she reassured me that being late won't matter. Then I learned that the wedding I had been invited to was most likely the wedding reception. The actual vows, exchanging of rings, signing of papers, is usually done with just a few witnesses.

I made it 45 minutes late, and the bride and groom had yet to arrive. They came shortly after, in a large hummer-like car decorated with ribbons and flowers. Everyone stood outside the restaurant and cheered as they came out.

I learned at last year's wedding between a local and a Korean-American that wedding receptions here often have hosts/hostesses/DJs—I'm not sure what their official title would be. A woman in a blue dress was in charge of this evening's events. Before we entered the restaurant, she had the bride and groom drink champagne (the traditional way, arms intertwined), and then throw their empty champagne glasses on the pavement.

Then they were presented with bread, and most likely told its significance, before we all went inside.

There I found three other co-workers (all locals, since all the foreigners had already left the country) and they showed me our table. Then we presented the bride with flowers and hugged her and shook hands with the groom. Then we returned to our table, where waiters dutifully served us drinks and we could munch on appetizers. Throughout the evening, my glasses never made it half-empty, they were always refilled. And the different courses were brought out so staggered that we didn't get dessert until after midnight.

I'm sorry to say that I did not find the appetizers to be very appealing. Ther were some cold cuts of unkown meat, some salads, including one with fish (but none of the “American”-style salad of fresh lettuce and vegetables). The bread was good, as was the one platter of fresh veggies.

The evening—which lasted well past midnight—consisted of a pattern like this—activity, speeches, dancing, repeat, all the while eating and drinking.

First, everyone was introduced. The host announced a group of people, such as the bride's mother's coworkers, and they all stood up and everyone clapped.

The next activity was a magician. I've never actually seen a magician live, and was rather impressed. I couldn't figure out how he did it! He put a lemon in a guillotine and sliced it cleanly in two. Then he put the best man's head in the same guillotine, rammed the blade down, and the best man's head stayed on (of course). He called out the bride and groom and turned fire into two doves, which they held. It was good show.

Another activity was a special dance. The groom's mother works in a theater, and two dancers work with her. So they came out and performed a dance for everyone.

The bride and groom had prepared a dance, as well. This was interesting, because it was more than your usual “first dance” at American weddings. They had obviously rehearsed, and it looked more like a performance you might see on “Dancing with the Stars.” They acted and danced to many different songs, starting with “I Will Always Love You.” It was very beautiful, and quite a performance. And yes, I'm getting ideas for my own far-off-in-the-future wedding, should that ever occur.

Between activities, as I said, were speeches. I counted—there were about 10 people at each table, and about 8 tables. A group at a time was calleed up to give speeches. I think that techincally, only one or two people from each group needed to give a speech, but in the end, usually everyone in the group gave a speech. Some of the speeches were short--”I wish you happiness!” Some were very long. What on earth could people be saying for so long?

Luckily, my coworkers had already planned something, and I didn't have to speak. Though I do wish they had told me; they had it writen, and they didn't realize that I can read Russian quite well. So I could have participated.

My coworkers originally wanted to leave before 10:30, so they could catch a bus home, but I am so glad that they decided to stay later. By 10:30 the main dish had yet to be served!

The second coursse (which I had at first thought was the main course) consisted of some purple beet salad and something like meatloaf. The main course was a very large pike—one per table—that had been cut into sections, with lemon slices between each section, but still very much looking like a fish. I really wished I hadn't lost my camera so I could have taken a good picture of it!

For another activity, they pulled out two chairs into the center of the room. The best man had to get the maid of honor from one chair to the other, without her ever touching the ground, ten times, in ten different ways. The maid of honor was wearing a very short dress, so this was quite difficult to do without compromising her dignity. I don't think they made it to 10, but I was impressed with how creative they got. At one point, he lay on the ground, aand his friends helped her to walk across him.

(I also learned that here the maid of honor can't be married or divorced.  So my friend had a hard time finding a maid of honor, since most of her friends were already married.)

Another activity was a dance contest, where the two professional dancers picked the winners. First, several people danced, and a few were eliminated. Then the contestants had to dance while sitting. The next round, they had to stay sitting but couldn't movee their legs. Then they could only move their faces.

By this point, the groom's friends were completely drunk, and kept trying to join the dancing contest, no matter how many times they were kicked out.

A laptop, projector, and sceen were brought out, and they played a speech from a family member who could not attend. A short while later, they showed a music video, a “love story.” When my assistant had talked about this, I thought she meant a slideshow of pictures. But it was really was a music video that the two of them had made, to Aerosmith's song, "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing."

At one point, the lights were turned off and the bride sang a song for us. At another point, she threw her bouquet and the groom threw her garter.  I was informed that the bouquet and garter tosses were new traditions taken from the West.

After each activity and/or speech, music played and people came onto the dance floor to dance. This was fun to watch, as the older people just loved to dance and had so much fun dancing. An elderly gentleman (a former booxer, I learned) picked up his wife and swung her around merrily. People really got into it, kicking their legs to older Russian music, forming circles and dancing around the bride.

Sometime after midnight, before the cake but after the pike, all the lights were turned off and everyone was handed a tea candle. We gathered around the bride and groom in the center, sitting in front of a table with two large candles as well as tea candles forming the shape of a heart. We stood there for quite some time while the hostess talked in a quiet, serious voice. This was the time when the parents gave them away, when the bride became a wife and the groom became a husband. She put on a white scarf and he put on a white cap to symbolize this.

After cake, the hostess announced awards and the bride had to pick which guest got the award. For example, the loudest, the quietest, the most drunk. The prizes were thinigs like sponges and toilet paper.

I would have loved to stay later, but my co-workers had called a taxi for me, and I had only one day left to pack before flying to the US for the summer, so I said my good-byes and left. Although 80 speeches can get to be a bit much, I really enjoyed the wedding. I enjoyed the festivity, the activities, the dancing, and how it was really made into a special event for the bride and groom, as well as  for their guests.

Driving a Car in Astana

The big recent news is that I bought a car. I've spent nearly three years here, and do feel quite comfortable getting around the city, in good and bad weather, without a car. I can use the buses, walk, bike, and take taxis. The buses on my side of town run infrequently, some of them come every 20 – 30 minutes, and there is no set schedule. And there aren't as many buses. Not having a car is doable, but everything takes so much longer.

Two teachers at my school were offered and accepted jobs in Almaty, and they decided to sell their car. At first, I said I wanted it if I had to move far from the school. At the time, it was looking like I would have to, as it was impossible to find an apartment near the school that allowed pets. But then, as soon as I said I wanted it, we found an apartment in my same building that allows pets, and suddenly I had to decide, did I want the car?

Everyone who knows about buying cars in Kazakhstan said it was a good deal. Everyone used to buying cars in the US wanted to know what was I thinking. It's a 1993 Suburu, a basic 4-door car, nothing special. For $5000. My mom researched it and said in the US it'd be $1500. The crazy thing about cars here is that they don't really go down in price as they get older. Which can be good for a foreigner—you buy a car and two years later, when you leave, you can sell it for the same price you bought it (or even more, if you put money into repairing it!)

I decided to take the car, and on the last day of school (23rd June) it was transferred to me. The whole process was amazingly easy. The school owns the car, so I didn't have to buy it. In Kazakhstan, only the owner can drive a car; everyone else needs a power of attorney document, and they need a new one each month. The secretary can print those out, and usually has several to do every month. So on that day, she printed that document for me. I also needed insurance, but I could just keep the insurance that was already on the car; the school would take the money out of my salary. Another secretary translated my driver's license into Russian. The previous owner handed me the keys. I made sure all the documents were in the glove compartment, to be handed over to a police officer should I be pulled over. And voila! I had a car!

(Payment was easy too. The school put $5000 directly into the previous owner's school account, and took $5000 from me, making my school account go negative. I signed a form, agreeing to pay back within a year, which will be easy enough.)

Suddenly, I had keys to a car, and it was time to drive home. In a city where drivers are more aggressive than those in the US, in a city where left turns are rarely allowed, in a city where police officers routinely pull people over. I must admit I was quite nervous! I hadn't driven at all in two years. I had to figure out how to get home, since the roads are so weird—Astana has several super-large roads, like highways, and tons of tiny roads, like alleyways, and few left turns outside of intersections (and really long blocks!) To get home I had to back-track a bit and drive through a mall parking lot.

I was also out of gas, and had to go get gas. Luckily, I'd thought to ask about that. There aren't too many gas stations, but the principal recommended one that's a bit out of the way, but a direct route from my apartment, which she likes because it's rarely crowded. I get gas number 92, and an attendant fills it up, and I pay inside. It worked.

Over the next few days, I got more comfortable with driving in Astana. A big thing is just being aware—the drivers are aggressive, and the police are ready to pull you over if you forget some tiny detail. Also, pedestrians love to walk in the road anywhere they want. Especially by bus stops, so you have to be really careful when you're near a bus stop, people might run out in front of you. There are crosswalks here and there where you have to stop. I've learned to drive more slowly when I near them, and to look for people on the sidewalk near the crosswalk, to try to predict if I'll have to stop for someone.

I have to plan routes ahead of time, trying to avoid going out of my way because I can't turn left. Also I try to avoid bad intersections. I've also learned that rush hour can be bad, so I have to figure out what roads to avoid at what times. Blocks are long, so if you're stuck on Turan Avenue (my street) heading from the Radisson towards my apartment, over a kilometer away, you can be stuck in a traffic jam that whole time with nowhere to turn, unless you want to park in the park or drive into the river.  (Update:  After being driven from the airport in Chicago to my brother's place north of Chicago, I realize that Astana rush hour isn't so bad!)

The city shrinks when you have a car. Suddenly, places that used to take close to one hour to get to are just minutes away. (Except during rush hours!)

The other day we left a cafe with 40 minutes to get my friend's daughter to her ice skating lessons. That distance wouldn't take far when it's not rush hour, but we ended up late. (Part of the time was taken walking from the cafe to the car.) On the way, my friend taught me about driving here. If you want in a lane, you don't wait patiently with your signal on. (In what big city does that work, anyways?) You can just be aggressive and push yourself in, but the best way is to make eye contact! Roll down your window, wave at the driver you want to get in front of, even ask him to let you in. I managed to change lanes on very crowded streets by having my friend or her daughter politely ask other drivers to let us in. And indeed I have noticed since then, other drivers waving at me to ask me to let me in front of them.

So, I'm getting the hang of it. And I haven't been pulled over yet. I've been told that technically they can't give you a ticket if you don't understand, but that they'll try their best to either give you a ticket or get a bribe from you.

I also have an indoor parking spot. The garage is not heated, so I'll still need to buy something for the car, one of those devices that automatically turns on the car when it gets below -20º Celsius. I'll also need a remote device, for turning it on from my apartment, so that it can be warmed up by the time I get to it. Which makes me a bit nervous, turning on your car when you can't even see it, but in this weather, that's pretty much necessary.

It's amazing how fast it can change your life. We were at the grocery store the other day, and I bought 8 liters of juice, stocking up so that when we return from summer vacation, we'll have plenty. I could never carry that much home, but I could drive it home. It'll definitely make a difference in shopping.

Sophia's thrilled too, of course. She's quite happy to no longer be forced to walk and take the bus everywhere.

My biggest concern is that we'll grow to rely on it too much, and won't take the longer, healthier, more environmentally friendly route. We'll see!

Update:  Driving a car in winter...

Biking

As soon as the warm weather hit, out came the bicycles.  I don't mean that Kazakhs took to biking the way the Dutch do; I mean, my co-workers and the students at my school took to biking.  It seemed like everyone at the school, the principal included, had a bike, and Sophia and I were still walking.  We had yet to fix her bike.

On the way home from school one day, we stopped by the Mega mall that's on the way.  A new sports store, Sportsmaster, had just opened, and we went inside.  There we ran into two other teachers, one who was buying a bicycle, and one who speaks Russian and was helping.  So we had the Russian-speaker help me too, and I bought Sophia a bike.  It was the cheapest one there, 20,000 Tenge (about $133), and small even though they claimed it was a grown-up bike.  But this in-between size was perfect for Sophia.  It doesn't have hand brakes or gears, but again, this isn't a problem for a 9-year old.

We bought it and are thus far quite happy with the purchase.  We've biked to school just about every day since.  I donated her old bike to science--eg, I let the upper-grades science teachers use it for demonstrations and parts.  (I didn't quite feel comfortable selling something that may or may not be fixable.)

My bike, which I bought at the bazaar earlier this year, has so far proved to be okay. It hasn't broken yet.  The teacher who bought her bike at Sportsmaster the same time as Sophia, her bike already broke.  Some part that apparently isn't supposed to break on new bikes.  The store fixed it--but only once she went somewhere else and bought the piece they needed.  Not a good sign of quality of materials or service for this new store!!  (Which, by the way, is a chain, I've been to it before, near Artyom, and there are many of these stories in Russia.)

We have biked to church a few times, and I was quite disappointed to find out how long that takes.  It takes up to one hour by bus, because the buses that go to church run so infrequently, and you have to walk to the bus stop and then wait.  It takes about 5 minutes by car.  It takes 40 minutes by bike.  Such a difference!  This city is not at all bike-friendly.  The roads are fierce and dangerous, so we do not bike on the roads.  We bike on sidewalks, maneuvering around people, and going up and down so many steep curbs.  At one point we have to go down the equivalent of two flights of steps.

Luckily, about half of the ride to church is filled with these kinds of obstacles; the other half is idyllic. We bike across the "rainbow" bridge over the river, with the sun shining upon us.  We bike through lovely parks.  Part of the ride is quite pleasant.

Wherever we go, we lock our bikes.  (Except for school, since the school is gated and the bikes are safe.)  I take care to lock both the back and front tires, to lock the tires to the frames.  I even bought a U-lock though I haven't used it yet.  Everywhere we go, I notice that I lock our bikes much more securely than anybody else!  This city is not quite a cycling city, and so bike theft doesn't seem to be very strong here.

I look forward to the day this city is more bike-friendly.  With a mostly flat terrain and good weather for 50% of the year, as well as a not-wealthy population needing inexpensive transportation, this city is a perfect place to become a bike haven.  Though maybe that's just my wishful thinking.

Taxis

Taxis in Central Asia are different from taxis in the US.  There are your normal, official taxis, cars that say "taxi" on them and have dispatchers and all that.  There are your not-so-normal-yet-still-official taxis, junky old cars that don't say "taxi" yet are connected to some sort of service & dispatcher.  These are the ones that I use when I have someone call me a taxi, usually to get to the airport or vet.

Then there's every other car out there on the road, each one a potential "taxi".  All you have to do is put out your hand and wait.  Sooner or later (usually sooner) someone will pull over, you can tell them where you want to go and negotiate a price, or you can just hop in.  If you sound foreign and clueless, they'll probably ask for 1000 Tenge (about $6).  Locals get taxis for 500 Tenge or less.  I've learned to just ask for 500 Tenge up front, they usually say yes, and if they don't, I don't get in.

Locals have no problem with this system; foreigners usually adjust to it quite quickly.  I, on the other hand, have been here almost 3 years and am still wary of it.  I've gotten over my American paranoia (is the driver really a serial killer?!) but I have other worries.  I know nothing about the guy who picked me up (and it's always a guy).  I don't know how well he drives, I don't know if he's been drinking.  Sure, I've talked with him to bargain the price, and I can tell that he's not completely wasted, but still...  Drivers here are aggressive, getting into a car with a stranger is a bit scary!

I've gotten used to it.  It takes close to an hour to get to church via the bus; in the winter, we took a taxi every Sunday.  It takes under 10 minutes by taxi, and that includes leaving my house, walking to the main street, and hailing a "cab".  Most often, the very first car I see stops for me, it's that common and convenient.

Sophia prefers taxis to walking, of course; she doesn't see the potential danger in riding with a complete stranger who most likely does not have working seatbelts.  My mom preferred the buses.  Aggressive as the bus drivers can be, they're calmer than the taxi drivers.

I'm able to take a taxi, I'm capable of telling the driver where to go, giving directions, bargaining a price.  But I prefer other methods of transportation.