Let the Amazing Race around the World Begin!
18.–19. lokak., Australia
☁️ 22 °C
Let series two of the Amazing Race around the World begin! Nine years ago we set off on a life-changing race around 30 countries in one year. Now we’re about to do it all over again but this time the ambitions are grander. At the moment the total country count is 61 (although according to Jason it’s 64 because he counts airport stopovers). Let's see if we can get to 100 (or 103) by the end of the 12 months. I can't promise that there won't be cross over episodes with the Lost World or that the Lost World may have already started in pre-production.
The last few weeks have been hectic with finishing up work, packing up the apartment and getting it ready to rent out, whilst doing renovations that were meant to finish weeks ago. In typical Jason and Ricky fashion, we made it by the skin of our teeth. The new powder room renovations were finished in time for us to at least christen it. No more running up the 20 steps to the upper level to go to the toilet!
The first major task was to move everything into storage. The big question was whether the storage unit was going to be big enough for all our crap. Jason kept taunting me about the clothes and shoes that I had packed into storage, but I say that ain’t anything on his Emelda Marcos collection of crocs. They say people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.
To get all the crap out of the apartment and into the storage shed, we borrowed a ute/truck from our friends Kiri and Johno. I think it was all of about 10 minutes of loading up the truck before her majesty Princess Jason of James Street had had enough. “Why are we doing this? Why are we not paying people to do this for us?”, proclaimed her majesty. My reply was “because we’re not old and dead yet”. After 2.5 loads to the storage shed, there was no juice in the tank for Princess Jason. Mission aborted.
You might think that was all the packing needed. No. Everywhere we looked, every cupboard and pantry still had shit in it. Where was all this going? The storage was a decent size but it ain’t no TARDIS. Panic set in for Princess Jason, and instructions to dump more shit were declared. The funny thing was the piles just kept moving around the apartment, with the rare item being placed at the door for me to take down the five flights of stairs to the bins.
Originally, Jason wanted to move out of the apartment two weeks before heading off, with the idea that we could move straight back in after being away for the year. Me on the other hand, I wanted more time to prepare. My logic was that we will be couch surfing for 12 months, what’s another couple of weeks. Six of one, half a dozen of the other really. Well, as time galloped towards our departure day, the move-out date kept moving. The renos weren’t done either which meant we couldn't move out anyway.
The last few days before the Amazing Race around the World things started to ramp up; things were getting real. Piles of shit seemed to slowly migrate to the lower level. I’m sure the neighbourhood could hear the expletives every time one of us opened another cupboard door to be surprised with more stuff. Luckily it all fit in storage with a little room to spare.
We loaded up our backpacks and headed to Cat and Paul’s house to spend our final night in Oz. But that was only after a few tantrums and breakdowns. How are we going to do this? How have we got so much shit to stuff in our backpacks? They were chock-a-block. There was not a nook or cranny to fill. And that was after adding an extra backpack. I was loaded up with 20 kilos in one bag and another 8 kilos in the smaller backpack. Jason was only a little lighter at 18.8 kilos. There was so much weight that I needed to wear one backpack on the front just to even things out. Otherwise I would have toppled over.
Luckily, we’ve been in training for the big adventure. Nine years older but we’re much fitter. How long will this last? Jason is already predicting some weight gain on our first stopover. We’ve said no alcohol or pastries this adventure. How long will this last? The first cheap beer and tart and all of this will be out the door. Or the first free bit of booze on the flight 😜
After a night at Cat and Paul’s, we woke up early to repack. Then came the cycle of cursing, cussing and claiming we couldn’t do this. After a few deep breaths, we tried it all over again. I think constantly doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome might be the definition of insane.
Insanely packed, Paul dropped us to the airport for our 2:25pm flight. The airport was a ghost town. The QANTAS check-in is all self-service, and apart from the two staff members we were the only passengers to be seen. The flight was empty so the ground crew offered to move us to better seats – a whole row to ourselves. No annoying people or screaming children in between. I'm not sure that was enough to counter the bad twice cooked beef and overcooked rice.
We breezed through customs and got to the front of the TRS (Tourist Refund Scheme) counter with plenty of time before we had to board, although as per usual my bag needed to be examined by customs. I was praying that I wouldn't need to take stuff out of my bag. It was like a jigsaw puzzle; there was only one way it was going to fit. Jason was paranoid that he'd be caught with oversized carry on, so he walked onto the plane shielding his jammed packed bag from the eagle eyes of the flighties. Mission accomplished.
Next stop clue: A country named after a king. Made famous by 7,000+ islands.Lue lisää
A Moment in Manila
19.–20. lokak., Filippiinit
☁️ 34 °C
After an eight hour flight from BrisVegas, we landed in Manila around 8pm. We were warned by multiple people that Pinoy Aquino International Airport was a nightmare. The stars seemed to align for us and we walked straight through immigration. The only passengers seemed to be from our flight.
We joined the immigration queue and were quickly directed to the next counter. We lined up together but we were swiftly told next time to go through separately. The immigration took our passports and then said “can I ask a question? Are you in the fashion industry in Australia?”. I’m not sure what made her think that; we definitely weren’t dressed for the catwalk, maybe the dirty sewers of the Pasig River that passes through Manila.
The next challenge in this Amazing Race was to get to our hotel. I had booked a hotel close to the airport because we had a domestic flight the following day. On Google Maps the hotel looked like it was a walkable distance. But the reality was that it was far from close. There was an option to catch the free shuttle bus from Terminal 3 to Terminal 4 or catch a Grab share ride. We went with the latter.
We exited the terminal and started following the signs to the ride share area of the airport. The signs stopped and there were people catching taxis, so we thought we were in the right location. We ordered the Grab and we were assigned a driver. All of a sudden, we received a message that the driver had arrived. We asked an airport employee where the Grab taxis were and they pointed us to the other end of the airport. We high tailed it down the corridor. Jason was pushing a trolley with his bag and almost collected a small Filipina woman – pasensya na (sorry).
We loaded up the Grab boot and took off to our hotel. Our driver seemed to take the long way. What was only supposed to be around the corner seemed like a very long ride. We arrived at our hotel, only to be told that we needed to go to another location. We were slightly confused. We rocked up to another hotel that had the same name – it seemed the hotel was in the process of changing locations.
The hotel looked very budget, but hey, it was only for one night. The temperature outside was 30 degrees in the evening, but inside the hotel room, Jason had the aircon cranked so high I practically needed snow gear to keep warm. I was completely encased in the thin sheet and the slightly thicker sheet (it couldn’t be classified as a doona/duvet).
As we were preparing ourselves for the Amazing Race, we resigned ourselves to the fact that there would be an electric shower along the way. Electricity and water just doesn’t seem right. Well, this hotel had the first electric shower. I’m sure it won’t be the last. The water hardly got warmer than tepid. Luckily, the weather outside was stinking hot.
It was a restless night with planes seemingly landing on the roof and a stone bed that was so hard I may need a hip replacement. I tossed and turned like a rotisserie chicken, trying to get comfortable. I’d get comfortable and fall asleep only to be woken by another plane or hotel guest slamming their door. At one stage I thought a freight train was coming through our room. Instead it was Jason snoring his head off. At least one of us could sleep.
When the freight train awoke, we got ready for our complimentary breakfast. We were not expecting much – a bit of fried rice with an egg on top. We had to be escorted to the restaurant, which was down an alley in the back streets of Manila. We scanned what was on offer: some bread, cold eggs and an array of unrecognisable cuisine. I opted for a few cold fried eggs on bread that was probably classified as a dessert due to the high sugar content. Jason decided to abstain. He warned me that if I got sick later it was my own fault. I scoffed down the cold eggs and headed back to the hotel room to gather our bags.
The saga to pack our backpacks continued at the hotel. We were flying AirAsia who have a strict baggage policy: 20 kgs checked in and 7 kgs carry on baggage. I was sitting at 21.5kg and 8.5kg. Somehow my bags gained weight on the flight over. Better the bags than me. I was prepared to risk it and if needed I could throw some crap at the airport. I like to live dangerously 😂. Jason, on the other hand, was instructing me to throw, throw, throw. I didn’t listen. I hope I get to the next stop.
Next stop clue:
After surviving Manila's freight trains, electric showers and mystery breakfasts, we're off to find an island famous for sand softer than my hotel mattress.
Filipino phrases:
Magandang umaga (mah-gah-NDAHNG oo-MAH-gah) =
Good morning
Magandang hapon
(mah-gah-NDAHNG hah-PON) =
Good afternoon
Magandang gabi
(mah-gah-NDAHNG gah-BEE) =
Good eveningLue lisää
Bumming around Boracay
20.–24. lokak., Filippiinit
☀️ 30 °C
After a few tantrums, several wardrobe compressions and a strategic redistribution of backpack weight, we finally made it to Manila Airport for our 11:55am flight. The hotel shuttle dropped us off and we proceeded to check-in. There were only about half a dozen people lined up. I was sweating like Whitney Houston going through customs thinking that I’d have to toss things out of my bag to meet the 20kg limit. Jason popped his bag onto the scales. Almost 20kg. Shit! That didn’t leave any room for me to commandeer some of his allocation. I popped my bag on the scales and it was 22 kg. It had gained weight from the hotel. I just batted my eyes and tried to be charming hoping that might work. It seemed to do the trick. The airline staff member didn’t say anything and placed the tags on the bag. Then she asked to weigh our carry-on bags. Mine weighed 9 kg but the women said “7 kg”. Phew! Made it through that Amazing Race challenge.
Security was a breeze. We went straight through and had almost three hours to spare. So, we decided to grab a drink and food. I swear the mango smoothie I ordered took longer than the check-in and security processes.
The short 45-minute journey started with a weird sound coming from the landing gear. “That sound doesn’t seem normal” was uttered from my mouth. We took off without a hitch and the sound disappeared.
We were flying AirAsia, so there was little space for our legs. Fortunately we had a row of three seats to ourselves. The six-foot-five British guy sitting diagonally behind us had even more trouble and asked if there were any spare exit seats. It looked like there were some exit seats available, as two other guys moved from their assigned seats to the exit row. The British guy thought he’d dob on them, presumably so he could take their seats. It didn’t work. The flight attendant spoke to the self-appointed seat upgraders, but they remained in the exit row. The British guy also remained in his allocated seat, crammed in his seat with one leg protruding into the aisle.
The cabin crew were under the pump to serve our meal of Thai Chicken Basil with rice before the plane had to land. It felt like we had only taken off, served our meals and then we were ready to land again.
Once we landed and collected our bags from the solo baggage carousel, we were on our way. Getting to Boracay from Manila is a planes-trains-and-automobiles adventure, but substitute the train for a boat. We got a mini van to the Caticlan jetty, a boat to Boracay Island and then another mini van to our hotel. At least the hotel staff carried our bags throughout the journey. I felt sorry for the young guys. The bags were nearly as heavy as them. I did offer to take my bags but they refused.
We checked in and dragged our bags through a maze of hotel rooms until we finally found ours. We had a view of the pool with a sliver of an ocean view. We did cop an eyeful of a woman wearing a thong bikini who had obviously forgotten to put sunscreen on her arse cheeks. Her arse was as red as a beetroot. No sitting for her for a while.
We threw our bags in the room and took off to explore the white sandy beaches of Boracay. We wandered along the beachfront avoiding hawkers trying to sell us their wares or restaurants trying to coax us in. It’s like a bogan Asian version of Aussies in Bali. A sea of braids and henna tattoos for as far as you could see. It felt like a Thai island getaway but a Catholic Temu version. So Catholic that every power pole on the main street has a sign citing a Bible passage about Jesus being the only one to have the power to save. I’m sure it’s meant to be a pun.
It didn’t take long for Jason to be overwhelmed by the heat. We were already dodging the sun like vampire creatures of the night. Jason’s portable fan did nothing to stop him sweating his arse off. He says it’s because of his “long” hair. I mean he’s a veritable Rapunzel with this two centimetre “ponytail”. I think he might be going through the change of life. You know, the manopause. Or perhaps the pause/paws 🐾. We walked and walked trying to find a food outlet that had air conditioning. I was starving and fading to a shadow, but eventually, we found somewhere that ticked all the boxes.
For this Amazing Race around the World, we were prepared for all climates. For the heat of the Philippines, we had brought hats that made us look like we’re beekeepers. We’re only missing the bee smoker to prevent the street hawkers from attacking us. They were certainly like bees buzzing around us.
Then on the third day, it had to happen. The cross-over episode of the Lost World and the Amazing Race around the World collided. Jason’s room key was gone. There were Buckley’s chances of getting it back. It was somewhere between 7-11 and Aqua Fresh, the Chicken and Seafood restaurant where we had dinner the night before. But Jason told the hotel he left it by the pool. Turns out it was actually in a pair of my shorts and it wasn’t lost at all. Crisis averted. Jason immediately updated the Lost World leaderboard: Ricky 1, Jason 0. But was it really lost?
The routine soon became: get up go to the gym, have breakfast, wander the streets like itinerants, hide from the midday heatwave and return when we’re not going to be fried crispy chicken.
At breakfast, a woman struck up a conversation with Jason. After a bit of banter, she asked if he was Belgian. That’s a new one. Usually it’s German.
After our midday retreat, we went in search of a bite to eat. Another popular theme of our Amazing Race. We ended up at a popular Filipino roast chicken chain called Andok. We ordered a whole chicken, because the birds looked about the size of pigeons. A quarter chicken wasn’t going to fill the empty hole.
When we ordered, I pulled out my wallet and the cashier said “your wallet is very cute”. It’s basically a wallet made from an old shirt pocket with a zip that I picked up from Thailand. We demolished the chicken and the Bicol Express, a Filipino stew made with chili coconut cream, shrimp paste, onion, pork, ginger, garlic and beans.
Before sunset, we made our way to the beach, had a quick dip in the sea and tried to fight off the street hawkers. No, we don’t want a scuba-diving day trip or a ticket to the party boat. Their response was generally “Maybe tomorrow”. Maybe never.
Dinner was spent at the D’Mall, where we had a yiros from a Greek restaurant owned by two Filipino guys. It didn’t quite satisfy the hunger, so we had to try the popular Coco Mama. Their speciality is coconut and pandan ice-cream, which has gone viral on social media, despite existing for 10 years. They have become so popular that they have opened sister stores, Ube Mama and Mango Mama. It was nice ice-cream, but I feel like it's mostly about the hype.
Our final day was spent wandering, relaxing and trying to stay out of the scorching sun. Around lunchtime the skies opened up and pissed down. We sought refuge in a small cafe and slurped on coconut and banana shakes. The footpaths and roads started to flood quickly. But as quick as the rain came, the waters subsided and the sun poked its head out again with a vengeance. But not for long. It continued to rain into the late afternoon and evening.
When there was a break in the weather, we headed to the Balabag wetlands for an appetizer of street food before stumbling upon an Indian restaurant. The joint was filled with Indians, so we thought the food mustn’t be too bad. Full as a goog, we walked back to our hotel avoiding the street hawkers still trying to get us to go to a seafood restaurant or get a massage.
The final challenge was repacking and hoping our bags had somehow lost weight. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about their owners.
Next stop clue: Conquistadors built the walls. Jeepneys took over the streets.
Filipino Phrases:
Magandang umaga (mah-gah-NDAHNG oo-MAH-gah) = Good morning
Magandang hapon (mah-gah-NDAHNG hah-PON) = Good afternoon.
Magandang gabi (mah-gah-NDAHNG gah-BEE) = Good evening.
Pakiusap (pah-kee-OO-sap) = Please
Oo = yes
Hindi = No
Paalam = goodbyeLue lisää
Manila Mayhem
24.–27. lokak., Filippiinit
☁️ 31 °C
From Boracay, we travelled back to Manila for three nights. Getting back to Manila was the same ordeal: mini van to the jetty, boat to Caticlan Island and then another mini van to the airport. But getting into the airport itself was just as much of an ordeal. I reckon we were asked for our boarding passes and passports a thousand times. To get into the airport doors, security required everyone to show their credentials. Then again at check-in, security screening, boarding and on the plane. By the time we boarded, I was starting to wonder whether they’d ask for them again once we were airborne.
The next ordeal was going to be whether we were within the airline baggage limits. I’d managed to free up some space. Yes, I had lost some things, nothing of significance. Of course something was left behind when we checked out of the hotel. It wouldn’t be a Ricky and Jason adventure without it. Jason is keeping score: apparently Ricky 3, Jason 0. But that doesn’t seem right; have we crossed into a parallel world where everything is in reverse?😂
With some of our excess items concealed in our jumpers wrapped around our waists, we passed the Amazing Race challenge and got through check-in without needing to pay for extra baggage. We then made our way through customs and found a spot in the waiting area. The seating was rows and rows of metal benches that had enough space for a small child to fit. Perhaps they were getting us acclimatised to the cramped seating on Air Asia.
Boarding was meant to commence at 11:15, but they seemed in a hurry and called our zone an hour and a quarter before take-off. We were loaded onto buses, where we sat for about half an hour before being taken along the tarmac to another part of the airport. Jason surmised that they were making room in the departure lounge for other passengers. We were unloaded and herded onto the aircraft like cattle heading for market. Before we knew it, the pilot was instructing the cabin crew to arm doors and cross-check. We took off half an hour early. That’s unheard of.
We arrived, collected our bags and were still 45 minutes ahead of schedule. We got a Grab taxi to our Airbnb in the centre of Malate. We were dropped off at La Vie Resort and Casino, which looked like a fancy hotel. I didn’t think we were in the right location, but we put our bags through hotel security and started to head to the lobby. It wasn’t the correct location, we weren’t staying in a hotel. So we exited and found our Airbnb next door. It certainly wasn’t winning any glamor award.
After checking in at the lobby, we jumped into the lift. The lift kind of shook as we ascended. It didn’t exactly give me much confidence that we’d make it to the 32nd floor. Instead it felt like we might plummet into the basement. In its heyday, the building would have looked as glamorous as its neighbour, but building maintenance was obviously not a priority for the body corporate.
Our apartment had a great view of Manila city, including all of the pollution. Manila’s metro area has a population of about 25 million. Much of the skyline is dotted with skyscrapers and shopping malls. The Robinson’s Mall was a few blocks down the road and this became our go-to place for food. We had no room to do any shopping.
On our second day, we visited the Spanish colonial area, where a walled city, called Intramuros, housed the citadel and Fort Santiago. The complex is positioned at the mouth of the Pasig River and served as a military headquarters, a prison, and provided defence for the city for many centuries. It is also the place where the Filipino national hero, José Rizal, was imprisoned and executed in 1896 for causing a rebellion against the Spanish colonisers. Many Filipinos consider this the beginning of their nation, after 333 years of Spanish occupation.
Near the fort is San Agustin Church, a UNESCO-listed church, which is the oldest stone church in the Philippines. Across the road is the Casa Manila, which hosts a museum that displays what it was like for the wealthy during the Spanish period.
After the walled city and fort, we wandered around the old town, taking in the colonial Spanish architecture and old cobblestone streets. After walking around a few blocks, we stumbled upon a group of young Filipinos, who asked to have a photo with us. They thought we were so tall they needed photographic evidence 😂.
We started heading in the direction of our Airbnb, which was a couple of kilometres away. I thought we may as well walk home and get our step count up. Jason wasn’t too impressed, but went along with the plan. On the way, we checked out the Plaza Moriones, a public square, and took a pit stop to take some photos of the José Rizal monument.
The walk home worked up an appetite, so we headed to our regular joint, the Robinson’s mall, for lunch. We found it hard to find food that didn’t contain high levels of sugar. The bread that we bought from the supermarket was labelled as sugar free, but it contained a sweetener. Even the air you breathe is sweet. Possibly to cover up the smog. It seems that when the Americans kicked out the Spanish, they left behind not only jeepneys but also diabetes.
After World War II, the Americans left army vehicles, which the Filipinos converted into local buses - Jeepneys. To this day, they have continued with the same design, and they remain a common form of transport for locals to get around Manila.
In the evening, we walked down the street to Navy Army Burgers and Burritos, a military inspired Filipino restaurant chain, serving American and Mexican food. Earlier in the day, we had walked past and heard a kitten crying. A homeless person had tethered it with a rope to a metal hook in the concrete. When we walked passed at dinnertime, the homeless person was asleep. Over dinner we devised an elaborate rescue plan that would have impressed MacGyver. Unfortunately, we lacked a Swiss Army knife or any useful tools. So all we could do was untie the rope from the hook. A few metres down the road, outside the restaurant, the homeless person’s friend whistled out to us. Jason yelled back “don’t be so fucking cruel!”. I hope the kitty was able to get away and live a better life.
Afterwards we wandered around the streets, observing the locals going about their business. We came across Little Korea Town, where there was a place filled with children and their families playing games. We continued on for a bit and then dragged our weary feet back to our apartment.
Our final day was spent exploring the largest mall in the Philippines and the sixth largest mall in the World, SM Mall of Asia in Pasay City. We took a Grab to the mall, and along the way struck up a conversation with our driver. I started the trip with a few Tagalog phrases, which impressed our driver. He proceeded to teach us more words. He provided some suggestions on where to go in the Philippines; that is until he found out how old we were. He thought we were a lot younger, so suggested one of the party islands. He asked us if we took medication to look so young 😂 We’ll take the compliment.
After exploring the mall for a few hours, we had to try halo-halo (mix-mix), the unofficial national dessert of the Philippines. It’s made of layered sweet ingredients (of course!), finely shaved ice, and evaporated milk. I was determined not to indulge too much on this Amazing Race, but as soon as I saw the Tres Leches halo-halo I folded quicker than an old camp chair. Diet stats tomorrow.
The final night was spent packing and repacking to make sure we could get to our next stop.
Next stop clue: A city where dragons guarded the throne and twenty-four emperors called home. For centuries, ordinary people were forbidden from entering.
Filipino Phrases
Walang anuman! (wah-LAHNG ah-NOO-mahn) - You're welcome!
Ingat! (EE-ngat) - Take care!
Magandang araw sa iyo! (mah-GAHN-dahng AH-rahw sah EE-yoh) – Have a good day!Lue lisää
Beijing Bedlam
27.–30. lokak., Kiina
☀️ 15 °C
Beijing almost defeated us before we even got there. We had a 6:20am flight from Manila, which meant waking at 3:30am. We were already packed, so all we needed to do was grab our bags, check out and order a Grab taxi.
Previously, we’d had no issues with Ninoy Aquino International Airport; but this time, the line up for Air China was almost out the door. Jason (aka Cassandra the Soothsayer) predicted that we would miss our flight. The line was moving at a snail’s pace, and at the rate that we were moving it was going to be over an hour before we would get to the front of the line. The immigration line looked even longer. Tensions were rising. People had a worried look on their face – were we going to make the flight?
Then all of a sudden the line started to pick up speed. The airline staff had realised that they needed to move things along. We weren’t able to check-in online, so we had to wait until we got to the airport. By then, the overbooked flight meant we couldn’t get seats near each other. We were both in different sections of the plane.
Fortunately, there was a separate line for foreigners and this line was much shorter. We made it through immigration just in time for boarding. For the four-and-half-hour journey, I was seated across from a group of Russians on their way back to Vladivostok. One of the women had lips on her so inflated she could be mistaken for a duck. Rule of thumb: lips smaller than the face.
We were served breakfast with a choice between the chicken sausage with omelette or the Beef congee – as Janice and Ray, aka the Disgusted Northern Couple from the Catherine Tate Show would say: “the dirty bastards!” We knew congee would have to be on the menu at some point.
We went through Chinese immigration without a hitch. The next challenge on the Amazing Race was to order a Didi. We had prepared for China by downloading WeChat and Alipay but we couldn’t get the Didi app to work or work out the correct address. Our hotel had given us directions and said to use the Tongle Restaurant as the end destination, because the hotel was in a very narrow alley. Cassandra was convinced that we had the incorrect location and that we were heading to the other side of Beijing. The soothsayer predicted we would need to order a second Didi to get to the correct location. I was following along on my phone and we seemed to be going to the correct location. It seemed that Amaps, the Chinese version of Google Maps, wasn’t calculating the distance correctly.
We got dropped off outside the Tongle Restaurant, which Cassandra still thought was the wrong Tongle Restaurant. It was supposed to be about 200 metres away but our map said it was a 20-minute walk. We took off disregarding what the map said. We found the correct street, then we just needed to find the correct number.
We walked through old traditional alleys (hutong) that are formed from courtyard Chinese houses known as siheyuan, until we found a gate that had the number 34 on it. This was supposed to be our hotel, but it didn’t look like your traditional hotel entrance. Outside there was a man pointing and saying something in Mandarin. He seemed to be directing us to go around the corner. And sure enough there was a hotel entrance, but the name of the hotel didn’t match our booking.
We walked up to the hotel reception and I showed my phone with our booking. The young guy nodded. He didn’t speak any English, so proceeded to use a translator – not Google Translate because Google, Facebook, WhatsApp, and Signal are blocked in China.
We were asked to pay for the hotel, but I thought we had already paid a portion of the accommodation. Confusion ensued, mainly because the translations weren’t very helpful. We eventually worked it out and went back to our room. We tried to get back into our room but we were locked out. That was because we were trying to get into the wrong room. All the rooms looked the same in the rabbit warren that was the Renyo Hotel (aka Yunju Hotel).
The room was so small you couldn’t swing a cat in it. The width of the room was the same as the bed, there was only a small path around it. The toilet and shower had enough room for a small child. Good luck getting your pants up after going to the toilet. On the plus side, you didn’t need to flush the toilet – everything was automatic, including the front door of the room.
The first time, I left the front door slightly ajar, I heard a woman’s voice. It was the door screaming at me to close it. Before long I had developed an obsession with the door lady. I’d deliberately leave the door slightly open just so she’d scold me again in Mandarin: Qǐng guānshàng dàmén (Please close the door).
Our first Beijing mission was to find food. The airline food didn’t satisfy, so we went in search of some tucker. We walked down to the main road, Guijie Street, that was lined with restaurants and all kinds of food outlets. Along the way, we noticed a McDonald’s and 7-11 on almost every block.
With something in our bellies, and like explorers on the frontiers, we took off to find new surroundings. After a bit of random wandering, we went back to the hotel for a quick pit stop before heading back out to find dinner. We decided to try some of the local cuisine, so we popped our heads into one of the restaurants and liked what we saw. We ordered the beef noodles with broth. Refuelled, we wandered for a bit before heading back to the hotel. We needed to rise early and we had already been up since sparrow farts.
As part of our accommodation package, breakfast was included. It claimed to offer Chinese and Western food. The only Western style food seemed to be toast and jam. Most hotels provide a selection of egg choices: scrambled, poached or fried. The only choice looked like century eggs. The dirty bastards! I still tried the eggs, because I was so hungry I could have eaten a horse and its jockey.
Our second day was spent exploring the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square. First stop was the Forbidden City. Jason wanted to beat the crowds, especially the tour groups, so we got there as the doors opened.
The Forbidden City served as the imperial palace of the Ming and Qing emperors for almost 500 years from 1420 to 1911. It is one of the world’s biggest palace complexes, with nearly 9,000 rooms. The entire complex takes up about 180 acres of land, with a moat separating the outer and inner complexes. Our ticket also included the Clock (Zimingzhong) and Treasure galleries, which offered a glimpse into the rich and elaborate lifestyles of the 24 emperors that occupied the complex.
Directly in front of the Forbidden City lies Tiananmen Gate (the Gate of Heavenly Peace), the grand entrance to the imperial city, which opens onto Tiananmen Square. To get into the Square, you have to go through a number of security checks. It was probably the most thorough and intrusive search that I’ve ever experienced. I almost got molested by security as she patted and felt me up. Not even airport security in the US post September 11 was this bad. She even opened my bottle of water and took a sniff. One search wasn’t enough. We were searched again by another guy.
That evening we decided to go on the hunt for Peking duck. We found a restaurant along Guijie street. The sweet and sour pork was a nice appetizer before the main course of Peking duck and a side of cauliflower. Vegetables!!! Our bodies were craving some nutrients. Although the cauliflower was doused in oil. The diet will have to start at the next stop.
Early mornings were becoming a bit of a routine. We skipped the hotel breakfast and opted for some fruit and coffee. Again, Jason wanted to be at Station 14 of the Great Wall of China at 7:30am when it opened. We were in a Didi by 6 am to take the one-and-a-quarter-hour trip. Didi was more expensive than the local way to the wall, but it only cost $46 for the convenience.
The Great Wall is a network of fortifications built and expanded over more than two thousand years to defend China’s northern frontiers. The best-preserved sections were largely constructed during the Ming Dynasty and offer views of the surrounding countryside.
We did part of the Hero Slope track up to Station 17 before it got really difficult, then traversed back to Station 6 for five kilometres, where we took the toboggan down. I was a bit apprehensive about the slide. Everyone else seemed to be treating the toboggan like a Formula One race. Meanwhile, I drove like a little old granny in her white Mazda 3 to bingo. I’m sure the person behind me wasn’t impressed. I could hear them up my arse for the entire journey.
After the descent, the mission was to find more food before heading back to Beijing Central. The first hour of the journey seemed to go fast, but the final 3 kilometres we became gridlocked in traffic. We eventually made it back to our hotel before we starved to death.
The final Amazing Race challenge in Beijing was to find our last supper and some egg tarts. By this stage, Jason had come down with a sinus infection, so we went on a side mission to find a pharmacy. Mission accomplished.
We walked a few metres from the pharmacy and stumbled upon a food outlet that appeared popular with the locals. I took a photo of what we wanted so I could show it to the lady behind the window. She smiled and handed us two pork tenderloins with an egg inside bread. Then, a few metres away on what seemed to be bakery street, we struck gold and found our egg tarts. We threw in a cream and taro bun too, but that went in the bin. The dirty bastards!
Next stop clue: A former capital city where wild apples were born and the Silk Road once passed by.
Mandarin Phrases:
Hello = 你好 (Nǐ hǎo) nee how
Good morning = 早上好 (Zǎoshang hǎo) dzow-shang how
Thank you 谢谢 (Xièxie) shyeh-shyeh
You’re welcome = 不客气 (Bú kèqi) boo kuh-chee
Please = 请 (Qǐng) ching
Excuse me 不好意思 (Bù hǎoyìsi) boo how-ee-suh
Yes = 是 (Shì) shir
No = 不是 (Bú shì) boo shir
How much? = 多少钱？(Duōshǎo qián?) dwor-shaow chyen
Where is the toilet? = 洗手间在哪里？ She-show jyen dzeye nah-lee
Please close the door = 请关上大门 Qǐng guānshàng dàménLue lisää
Adventures around Almaty
30. lokak. – 3. marrask., Kazakstan
☁️ 11 °C
The early morning starts were starting to take a toll. We vowed that this would be the last time. Our flight departed at 5:55am from Beijing to Almaty, so that meant getting up at 2:45am. We were all packed and ready to check out a little after 3am. There was no-one at reception and the security guard was fast asleep in a chair. We had to walk down the dark alleyway to the Tongle Restaurant to catch our Didi.
The first challenge on this leg of the Amazing Race was ordering the Didi. Unlike in Australia where Didi automatically pays for the trip when you get to the destination, in China the passenger needs to authorise the payment. That step had been missed the day before. Jason quickly sorted out the payment and ordered a Didi. These were precious minutes that we couldn’t spare. As we waited, there were still drunken people partying in the restaurant, stumbling out onto the footpath.
A Didi arrived, and weary eyed we jumped in. Two guys appeared in the window, gesturing that it was their car. Jason showed the driver our Didi booking. We don’t understand much Mandarin but we understood "bú shì (不 是)" ("no"). So, we quickly jumped out. A second or two later another Didi pulled up. This was our Didi. We dumped our bags in the boot and took off. Cassandra the Soothsayer (aka Jason) made another appearance, predicting yet another missed flight. According to Cassandra, we’d better get fluent in Mandarin, because we were going to be stuck in China.
The night before Cassandra predicted that we would be denied entry into Kazakhstan, because we had missed the 72-hour window to apply for the ETA. It turned out it’s not compulsory yet. I think Cassandra’s prediction skills might need some fine tuning.
We arrived at the airport. The next challenge was to find an entry that wasn’t closed. Eventually we found an entry, where we were swabbed for explosives and made to wait in line for a minute. Tick, tick, tick goes the playschool clock. Fortunately, there was no-one at the Air Astana check-in counter. The stars were aligning for us.
But soon the Lost World would strike. We went through security and I was about to go through customs when I heard one of the security guys running towards me. Jason had already taken off through customs, leaving me for dust. I could see a mobile phone in the hands of the security guy. I knew it wasn’t mine. I went through customs and asked Jason if he had his phone. He patted his pockets. No phone. Panic immediately set before I revealed his phone. Ricky 3, Jason 1. The gap was narrowing, although I’m not sure what the first lost item was and the second one was only temporarily lost, so I feel the scoreboard is a draw.
We boarded the plane ready for the five-and-a-half-hour journey. I was positioned in the middle of the three-seat row. A Kazakh guy appeared . He said abruptly: “let me in”. I gave him the benefit of the doubt that it might be his limited English. But no.
Not long into the journey, the Kazakh guy leant over and told Jason to go to the toilet to blow his nose. He said that in Kazakh culture it was rude to blow your nose when people were eating. But on a plane it's not so easy to get up each time. Certainly others didn't bother to go to the toilet to fart. Jason politely apologised and left it at that.
But when we were disembarking, the Kazakh guy impatiently said to move along, trying to push in front of others. I turned to him and said: “don’t be so rude. Wait your turn”. He didn’t listen and pushed his way through the crowd. Not sure why he was in such a hurry.
The next road block challenge was to order a Yandex, the Russian version of Uber. For foreigners, it seemed the only option was to pay cash, so we quickly exchanged some Aussie dollars. We still had time to kill before we could check-in so we took our time. While I was sitting in arrivals, a Russian woman approached me and started to ask me something in Russian. All I could say was “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Russian”. I must look a bit Soviet.
We ordered the Yandex and it soon arrived. Thanks to translation apps we were able to have a conversation with the driver. We would speak English and he would reply in Kazakh. At one point, he said “your language sounds so cool”. We got a rundown of his life story. He was an Uyghur man from Almaty and his sister had a PhD from a Spanish university. He provided us with a few recommendations of things to do and places to eat.
We immediately could see that the city was undergoing a lot of construction. We could also see the smog covering the city like a dirty doona that hadn’t been washed since the Soviet era. The pollution was as bad as Beijing, despite a population of around 2 million. Apparently the pollution is worse in the winter, because of the burning of coal to keep everyone warm. The smog gets trapped by the Trans-Ili Alatau mountains between the warm and cool air. For the next four days, we would need to wear a mask.
As we pulled up at our Airbnb, we were spotted by some alternative-looking locals, dressed in black and full of piercings. They kept staring at us as they continued down the path. We'd booked an apartment in Almaty's alternative, trendy district, where the youth looked as cool as ice and we looked like we were itinerants looking for a park bench to set up camp.
We couldn’t check-in to our Airbnb until 2pm, but we were able to leave our bags at the apartment. We went up to the 12th level and there was a woman in the corridor. Our contact for the apartment was a woman named Nurshat. We thought it might be her. It turned out it was her sister. Luckily her son spoke English and told us to leave our bags in a closet and to come back in about two hours.
We wandered the streets like Kazakh vagabonds, getting our bearings on our new surroundings. Along the way, we stopped off at a local fruit shop and bought some produce. Almaty is the motherland of apples, so we needed to try them. To be honest, they don’t beat the good old Granny Smith or Pink Lady.
We still had time to kill and needed a bite to eat before check-in. Outside of our apartment was a re-purposed McDonald’s. McDonald’s withdrew from Kazakhstan in 2023 due to the inability to obtain beef from Russia. The existing stores were rebranded and are now called "I’m". The menu looked very similar to McDonald’s with some local variations. I had to try the white peach thickshake.
On our second day, we did our own walking tour of the city, visiting the Ascension Cathedral and Green Bazaar. The Bazaar was filled with all kinds of produce and reminded us of the many markets that we have seen in Southeast Asia and South America. There was a whole section dedicated to different cuts of meat from all kinds of animals; all out on display without refrigeration. In Central Asia, horse meat is common in their cuisine. There were rows and rows of horse meat, which for us Aussies was fascinating.
In the centre of the market were a few eateries. Jason spotted a “restaurant” that offered Plov, a kind of pilaf with horse meat. We had worked up an appetite and could have easily eaten a horse and its jockey. Conveniently, horse was on the menu. So, we jumped on the horse and tried the Plov.
After we finished our meal, we paid and went to exit the restaurant. The woman who originally served us, who I’ll affectionately call Fatima, grabbed me, accusing us of not paying. We said we had already paid and pointed to the woman who took our money. Like a banshee, Fatima screamed out “Stella!”. Stella confirmed that we had paid and we were allowed to leave. We weren’t going to end up in a Kazakh jail for unpaid debts.
For the rest of the day, the Plov kept repeating on me. At one point, I was champing at the bit to break into a canter. We just hoped it wouldn’t give us the trots. Regardless, I had definitely caught the equine Hendra virus.
The following day, we were going to take a trip to Almaty Lake up in the mountains. Unfortunately the road to the lake was closed to vehicles and the only way to get there was to hike. Jason wasn’t having any part in that. The visibility of the lake was also poor, so there wasn’t much point.
Instead we took a subway tour of the eleven metro stops. Well, we got to number 10 before we decided it was enough. Each of the stops had a different theme. Some of the stops weren’t worth getting off, but others included elaborate bas-reliefs, chandeliers and mosaics. The highlight stations were Baikonur, Auezov Theatre, Abay, Almaly, and Zhibek Zholy.
From our apartment, we could see the snow-capped mountains; that is when the smog wasn't hiding them. We couldn’t come all the way to Kazakhstan without a trip up to see snow. We were lucky that the ski resort, Shymbulak, located about 25 km south of Almaty in the Trans-Ili Alatau mountains, had reopened the day before we left.
We caught a Yandex to the starting point of Shymbulak. We could have taken the cheaper option of a local bus, but to get the bus we needed a special card and the hassle didn’t seem worth it. We caught the cable car to the first base, taking about 10 minutes. Along the way, we could see wild horses, grazing on the mountains. They better watch out otherwise they might find themselves on the menu of a local Kazakh restaurant.
The first base is at an elevation of approximately 2,260 m. We then caught another two cable cars to the Talgar Pass, which was at 3,200 m. According to the forecast, snow was unlikely; however, just as we were about to make our descent, little snowflakes started to fall on us. Like little kids, we frolicked in the snow, attempting to make a snowman. Content with experiencing snow, we went back down to the base level and caught a Yandex back to our apartment.
In the evening, we went to a restaurant nearby to taste the national dish: Beshbarmak, boiled meat and handmade noodles. This time we went with the lamb. With our bellies full, we returned to the apartment to prepare for our next stop.
Next stop clue: Landlocked capital with mountain horizons near the foothills of the snow-capped Tian Shan in Central Asia.
Kazakh Phrases:
Hello = Сәлеметсіз бе? (sah-leh-met-siz beh) Or Say-lem
Good morning = Қайырлы таң (kai-er-luh tang)
Thank you = Рахмет (rahk-MET)
You're welcome = Оқасы жоқ (oh-kah-suh zhok)
Please = Өтінемін (uh-tee-neh-MIN)
Excuse me = Кешіріңіз ,(keh-shee-ree-NIZ)
Yes = Иә (ee-YAH)
No = Жоқ (zhok)
How much? = Бұл қанша тұрады? (bool kahn-shah too-rah-duh)
Where is the toilet? = Дәретхана қайда? (dah-ret-hah-NA kai-DA)Lue lisää
Browsing through Bishkek
3.–8. marrask., Kirgisia
⛅ 18 °C
(Country count this trip = 4; total countries = 64/67*)
This leg of the Amazing Race commenced at a slightly more civilised time. Still, the challenge was to get to the Sairan International Bus Terminal in Almaty for an 8am departure. It meant getting up at 5am to have a quick breakfast and get ready for the day. I quickly evoked my previous role as the school tuckshop lady, preparing sandwiches for our epic cross-border expedition.
Packed up like mules ready to trek across the Tian Shan mountain range, we got a Yandex to the bus station. We boarded the bus, which looked like it had been serving the Almaty-Bishkek route continuously since the early years of the Soviet Union. The seats were well-worn, some bent over like the little old Kazakh ladies in the front row. We were allocated seats near the back of the bus. Luckily, the bus wasn’t overbooked, and Jason was able to move to his own row. Otherwise, it would have been a very cramped and uncomfortable journey. Jason was glad that we had had our hepatitis vaccinations after seeing the state of the bus interior.
The bus set off, and after a couple of hours on the road we took a pit stop. This was our last chance to get rid of our remaining Kazakh tenge. So, we quickly bought a few provisions from the local shop, after paying to use the squat toilet.
After another hour or so, we made our way to the border. We were all offloaded like horses going to slaughter as we filed through customs. We put our bags through the scanner. As soon as my bag came out the other end, the customs guy pointed at it. There must be a flashing neon sign hovering above me that says: “search this dodgy Aussie”.
In a stern Kazakh voice, the customs guy said “open”. Now, when I’ve been through other customs, they don’t allow you to touch your bag while they search it. This time was different. The guy kept repeating “open”. And like an obedient dog at training school, I proceeded to take things out of my bag. Now, this was a challenge in the Amazing Race, because my bag was like a TARDIS and contained pretty much everything and the kitchen sink.
One by one the customs guy inspected every little nook and cranny. “American?”, he asked. I responded “No, Australian”. I’m not sure he understood. He continued to inspect everything, including my wallet and looked between my credit cards. He closely examined the tiny vacuum used to shrink our vacuum bags. How do I explain what this is to him? I was just hoping he wouldn’t press the button, otherwise he might have thought he’d uncovered some highly sophisticated Australian espionage equipment. Luckily, he just tapped the light button. He pulled out my collapsible tin cup and signalled for me to explain. So I gave him a demonstration like on one of those early morning infomercials. After he was finished, he asked me again: “American”. He got the same response as the first time: “No, Australian”.
By this stage, I had caught the flu that Jason had been trying to kick for the last week. I really wasn’t in the mood to have to repack my bag, but I picked everything up and threw it back in, hoping I hadn’t missed anything. We then proceeded through Kyrgyzstani customs without issue.
We got to the Kyrgyzstan side of the border. We had a couple of options: get a Yandex or a local bus. But first, we needed to exchange money. I couldn’t see any exchange rates for the Aussie dollar, and that’s because they don’t accept it in Kyrgyzstan. Luckily, we had our own little currency exchange of Euros and US dollars.
The next decision was whether to order a taxi while we still had internet access or catch the cheap local bus. For some reason, we decided to catch the bus. There was already a bus ready to leave for Bishkek city, so we tapped on and took our seats. Along the way, the bus started to get packed. I gave up my seat for a little old Kyrgyz woman, while Jason got squished into his seat by an old Kyrgyz man.
Outside it was a little fresh, but inside the bus was cranked up to 27 degrees. Now, Jason had turned into a peri-menopausal woman, menopausal Mary I called him, so he opened the window to cool his hot flushes. This didn’t seem to impress the old Kyrgyz man, who quickly shut the window. We felt like we’d been transported into an alternative world. Shouldn’t it have been the two Aussie boys from sub-tropical Brisbane that should be feeling the cooler weather? The locals were decked out in puffer jackets and hard-core winter attire. How do they survive when it drops below zero?
We got about 40 minutes into the bus journey, when the bus driver asked me where we were going. I pulled out Google Maps and showed him. He indicated that we needed to get off the bus and catch the 351. We waited and waited. None of the buses were 351.
A couple of Kyrgyz transport ladies got off a bus. They didn’t speak any English, but with a few hand gestures and pointing on the map, they told us to get the 254 or 104 bus. By this stage, neither of us had any reception let alone internet access. I thought as a last resort my Aussie phone could be used. But I had no reception. We would have to rely on primitive methods going forward.
A 104 bus arrived and we jumped on board. We were on the bus for about another 20 minutes. Our maps were showing that we were still about 11 kilometres away from our destination. Another transport lady got on to check our tickets, and I tried to confirm with her that we were heading in the right direction. That was a negative. So, we quickly disembarked. It felt like déjà vu. At this point it was more like an episode of Lost in Transit than the Amazing Race.
We were left on the side of the road of some strange bus stop still no closer to our Airbnb. By this stage, it had been about three hours since we had crossed the border. We needed to buy a SIM card that worked in Kyrgyzstan, so Jason toddled off to a local shop about 50 metres away.
We loaded the SIM, but nothing worked. A young Kyrgyz guy could see that we obviously needed assistance. He tried to set up the SIM, but he didn’t have much luck either. Eventually, he shared his hotspot so that we could order a Yandex. It was meant to arrive in about 9 minutes. The Kyrgyz guy took off and got on his bus. But this meant we lost internet access and weren’t able to track the Yandex.
After about 15 minutes, Cassandra the Soothsayer appeared before us with the prediction that the Yandex wasn’t coming and we would need to walk the rest of the way. Fortunately, none of Cassandra's predictions had come true so far, and the Yandex eventually appeared through the gridlocked Bishkek traffic.
This episode of the Amazing Race not only saw a crossover with Lost in Transit, but the Lost World series. In the panic to get our bags into the Yandex, Jason left his sunglasses at the pit stop. The scores are getting even closer now: Ricky 3 , Jason 2 (although my tally is Ricky 1, Jason 2).
Production had also started with another spin-off series called the Broken World. In the previous episode, Jason had broken his sunglasses and purchased another, only to donate them to the Lost World in Kyrgyzstan. Then, he broke his umbrella. The Broken World count sits at Jason 2, Ricky 0.
In the peak hour traffic of Bishkek, which seemed to last from about 4pm to 7pm everyday, we reached the end of our trip, surprised we didn’t have tinnitus from all the car horn honking. According to Google Maps, we weren’t at our final destination. I thought we’d have to somehow get another taxi to the correct destination. We got out of the car, and thankfully spotted the Bay Tash Towers, where we were staying. We hadn’t been taken on a wild goose chase after all. Four hours later, we finally reached our Airbnb.
By the time we checked in, the sun was starting to go down. We went in search of some provisions and got our bearings on our new surroundings before retiring for the night, ready to set out on a new expedition tomorrow.
Day 2 of our Bishkek leg was spent exploring the city area. We began at Ala Too square, built in 1984 during the Soviet Union, and also the site of the 2005 Tulip Revolution. Nearby, we spotted a little bakery that was begging for two Aussie guys to buy a cinnamon scroll. We needed some sustenance to get us through to lunch in an hour or so.
All the wandering of the Bishkek streets was exhausting. It was our own pick-a-path adventure. Like a Bowerbird building its nest, we would spot a shiny new object and go in search of it, snapping shots to savour the memory. At the end of the day, we thought we’d give ourselves a treat and try something that all the young school kids were buying. It turned out to be balls of dried, salty mare’s milk, not a sweet treat. It took a nano-second before our faces turned to disgust, spitting the horrible balls in the bin. Jason likened them to salty, sour blue cheese.
Each day was a new adventure. On day 3, Jason was on a mission to buy a Xiaomi 4K TV streaming stick. He suggested that we take a trip to the local markets, Osh Bazaar. But this was just a ruse for him to go in search of the mystery stick. With his translator app in hand, he approached every tech shop that we passed. And there were a lot. Each time, he was disappointed not to get his magical stick.
We eventually got to the bazaar. Everything was so cheap, and like kids in a lolly shop, we wanted it all. We limited ourselves to some baklava, biscuits, honey, bread and fruit. We were set for the rest of our stay.
The wandering pick-a-path adventures continued for the remainder of our Bishkek leg. We stumbled upon Victory Square, built in 1985 to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the end of the Second World War. Then, we spotted the Golden Mosque in the distance, so we took a detour in that direction. We continued wandering and eventually found the Grand Mosque with its towering white turrets.
Almost every corner we turned seemed to be another shopping mall. Jason’s pursuit of the magical stick subsided with time and he eventually gave in to the fact he wasn’t going to find it in Bishkek. Instead, he turned to accessories for his phone.
As we were approaching one of the many malls, a young gal approached Jason and said in English that he had a “cool style”. Jason is always about 20 metres ahead of me like the Queen of Sheba, with her servant following in tow. When I caught up, the young gal looked at me and said “so do you”. But I felt it was an afterthought and that she only said it to be polite.
After searching for phone accessories, we stumbled upon Kulikov, a Kyrgyz coffee shop and confectionery chain. We bought some ice-creams and as we walked away we were approached by a young guy who asked if he could get a photo with us. Maybe he thought Jason looked like Shane Warne, like the Indian guys did at Shymbulak in Kazakhstan.
The celebrity treatment continued on the final day when, once again traipsing through a mall, two girls approached us and asked where we were from. They then asked us to say thank you in Kyrgyz. We obliged - rakh-MAT – and went on our way to get ready for our next stop.
Next stop clue: A city born from a bazaar held on the first day of the working week, and where Persian culture meets Soviet architecture.
Kyrgyz Phrases:
Hello = Салам (sah-LAHM)
Good morning = Кутмандуу таң (koot-man-DOO tang)
Thank you = Рахмат (rahkh-MAHT)
How are you? = Formal = Кандайсыз? Kandaysyz? (ken-die-SIZ); informal = Кандайсың? Kandaysyng? (kan-die-SUNG)
Please = Сураныч (soo-rah-NITCH)
Excuse me = Кечириңиз (keh-chee-ree-NIZ)
Yes = Ооба (OH-oh-bah)
No = Жок (zhok)
How much? = Канча турат? (kahn-CHA too-RAHT)
Cyrillic Alphabet:
AKMOT = the same as Latin alphabet
B = V
H = N
P = R (rolled/trilled)
C = S
Y = oo (as in boot)
X = ch (as in loch)
Б = B
Г = G
Д = D
Э = Z
И = ee
П = P
Ф = F
Ж = zh
Ц = ts
Ч = ch
Ш = sh
Щ = shch
Ю = Yu
Я = Ya
Ё = Yo
*RT counts only countries that we have exited the airport.Lue lisää
