Motherland

We began our decent into Astana, now the capital of Kazakhstan, and I could make out her colorfully glowing streets. The city is young and very modernized. The high rises and monuments where up lit with many different colors reminding me a bit of the strip. We refueled and dropped off passengers and continued on for another hour to Almaty.

The customs agent had a difficult time accepting my freshly issued U.S. passport. She looked at every page, scrutinizing the authenticity of it. I had just been issued new passport and the threads holding the pages together were a bit frayed and the glue holding the threads together ran up one of the pages sloppily. She left her both for several minutes to consult with 2 others in neighboring booths. She hesitantly put the final stamp of approval on my paperwork allowing me to continue on to baggage claim.

After I got my baggage my Uncle, brother, and a friend of his greeted me just passed the gate and we headed to my uncles flat in the city. I couldn’t sleep more than a few hours and woke up early to watch the hustle and bustle of the city 4 floors down below me. It was overcast and had been raining, but the clouds could not hide the massive mountains to the east. The dark clouds tried to blanket the slopes but their darker outline still came through and I was reminded of my fascination with mountains and rivers. I was born here. I was born at a precursing range that eventually lead to the great and mighty Himalayas. The thoughts of what my life would have turned out to be had I not left started to enter my mind.