How to Hitchhike in Kazakhstan (How I get to work)

Every weekday I do the exact same actions of millions of Americans: I get up, eat breakfast, get dressed, and go to work. However it's the process of actually getting to work that serves as a daily reminder to me of exactly how far I am away from my home country: I stick out my hand and hitch a ride.

I am such a rebel. This goes totally against what I was taught as a child. It is engrained in American children to never enter cars with unknown persons, even if they have candy and a lost puppy. We are taught in America that if you hop in a stranger's car, you will be kidnapped and killed and you will never see your parents again and all people who hitch rides are crazy escaped felons from prison that will stab you in the neck while you drive and then steal your car. Yet, even with those reinforced principles in my head, I stand on the main highway with my hand out every day waiting for someone to pick me up. This is because hitching in Kazakhstan and especially in Ecik is the only way to get a taxi and the fastest way to travel. And it's part of the culture. In Kazakhstan and many Central Asian countries, any car is a taxi, and any person is a potential passenger.

In principle, this is something I think that we as Americans could adapt to our lives. Imaging driving to work every day, stopping once or twice to pick up 2 or 3 people who work in the same highrise or building. They pay you a dollar each way. That's could be lunch money at Wendys! It could revolutionize carpooling. Too bad that in America this would never work because we believe that hitchhiking = death.

I don't have to take a taxi if I don't want to. I could take the bus but they have become less frequent since school finished in June. If I see a bus I take it, as it is slightly cheaper than a taxi (40 vs 50 tenge), but waiting for a bus could make me hours late to work. Walking is another option. However, Ecik situated at the base of a mountain range, so I'd have to walk uphill to work. This takes about an hour and it's not very fun in bad weather. However my future nieces, nephews, and godchildren don't need to know how often I did this, as I'm not above lying. I already know what I'll tell them: "When I was in Peace Corps, I walked uphill an hour every day to work for two years through Siberian winters, and I wasn't even paid! So don't complain about how hard it is to hoverboard to school…"

So, how do I catch a taxi to get to work? It's not very hard, but slightly different than the American views of hitchhiking:

First, nobody in Kazakhstan sticks their thumb out to catch a ride. Instead, it is more common to point a finger, a hand, or in some cases, a whole arm. In Ecik, people use hand signals to communicate with drivers. For example, from my apartment, if I want to go to work, I point uphill. If I'm at work and wish to go home, I point my index finger toward the ground and circle it, because I live in the outskirts of town, where you'd have to turn around to go back to the center of town. If I wish to go to Almaty, I point to the direction of the city. If I don't want to get into a particular car, I shake my head once like a pitcher rejecting their catcher's choice of throwing a fast ball and it will pass me by. If the car is full, or if the driver doesn't want to stop they can do the same thing.

When a car stops, I stick my head in the window and scan the vehicle quickly while telling the driver where I want to go and how much I'm willing to pay to get there. What am I looking for? All of the things that our parents warned us about as teenagers: crazy drivers, alcohol, drunk people, cars with NOS, short shifters, and turbo boost meters seatbelts, loud music, and joyriders. This introspection goes both ways. While I'm looking at the driver, the driver is looking at me too to see if I am drunk or crazy. I've been in cars that have stopped for a person, then suddenly drive away because the person was drunk beyond belief. Nobody wants to take a drunk person anywhere, and nobody wants to ride with a drunk. On the particular day that I'm blogging about, I shared the car with a 9 year old girl who was going all by herself.

Is the car safe? I'm not a total gearhead, but examining the outside of the car while it stops and sticking my head inside, I can get sense of whether it and its driver can carry me to my destination safely. Is it falling apart or heavily dented? Held together by tape? Does it sound more like a lawn mower than a real car? Do the breaks squeal and the tires lock up…on dry pavement? If I see any of those things or if my gut says "don't get in", I give a head shake and wait for another car. It's not a perfect system and I've blogged about a car accident I was in a year ago, but since that time I've become more careful.

When the car stops is also when I negotiate how much I'm willing to pay. Metered taxis are rare to nonexistent, so haggling is common. Many towns have a fair price: in Ecik I can take a taxi for 50 tenge anywhere in the city limits during the day. In bad weather and at night the prices can be 70 to 100 tenge. Although it's usually 50 tenge, this doesn't stop taxi drivers for asking for more, especially if they think I don't know the standard rate (which I do). Anyone that overcharges me and refuses to budge gets a simple, "I've lived in Ecik since 2008. I know how much a taxi costs." Then I head nod them along and wait for another car. A little bit of patience goes a long way.

One good thing about my time in Kazakhstan is that it has made me a more direct person who is willing to speak up to get what I want and to stand up for myself. There is a big difference between, "I'm going to go to the center. Is 50 tenge ok?" than "I'm going to the center for 50 tenge.", although one would use the exact same words in Russian. As a non native Russian or Kazakh speaker, I've learned that intonation is important.

Talking about the price up front cuts down drastically on the chances of getting ripped off. Although this hasn't happened to me in a long time, if a taxi driver tries to rip me off, usually by not giving me change (which is why having exact change is valuable), it usually causes me to start yelling in rapid fire Russian about how I shouldn't be taken as an idiot and my opinions about honor and shame that would make my Karabulak babushka say "Great job!". For reasons I don't know, people get surprised and taken back when I start screaming. But this rarely happens. The only time I pay early is if the driver stops for gas. Why would a driver stop for gas? A professional taxi driver would always have a full tank. The answer to this is that not every taxi person in Kazakhstan is a professional, as all cars can be taxis. And not all cars have a full tanks of gas.

When I get to work, I pay the agreed price, and leave. After that, I walk around the corner and up the stairs into the Local Community Foundation's one room office, and begin my work day. Just like millions of other Americans

I just get there differently.