Karagandy: Travel guide, prices and free housing · 2026

СЖСырым ЖагипаровDec 20, 2014Read

It is 7 AM on my watch. Lying in bed, I see the sun rising. Its rays pierce through my window and start waking me up, telling me it's time, time to get ready for the journey. And I, in turn, realize that tomorrow I will meet this same sun, but in a completely different place. The day passed in a blur; I barely remember it now. Because that day, there was nothing in my head except one thought, the thought that my five-year-old dream would come true today... We are already in the car with my family heading towards Karaganda-Astana. We are listening to music and having fun. But no, there is not a single hint that in 5 hours we will part for a whole 3 months. Deep down, of course, we all understand that we will miss each other very much. I will never forget my mother's tears, my brother's instructive words, and my sister's smile before the flight. And the funniest thing is that at the airport, my brother said, 'If anything happens, call me immediately! I'll handle everything.' I was always amazed by his circle of friends. It felt like they were everywhere. And they were always watching over me. Well, okay, what's there to be surprised about, we are Kazakhs after all! All security and ticket checks are done, my mother's advice has been heard. And that calm female voice announces that my plane has arrived and is ready to take me to my best summer. I hug everyone tightly, saying that everything will be fine. I leave, pulling my stylish leather suitcase towards the greenline. I never thought I could go crazy from flights. During these 9 hours watching the clouds, you think about a lot of things, of course, not about the meaning of life, but about, for example, why can't you use phones on a plane? But you can use Wi-Fi. Maybe because it's paid? Why do they show the same movie? It's stuffy. I, in the company of acquaintances and friends, am standing on the street in NYC, in front of the airport; there is trash flying and lying on the street, for me, this is not the best impression. One thing I know for sure - there is nothing more beautiful than the feeling when you are in America, adrenaline shoots from your eyes and the feeling that this world is YOURS does not leave you! And no trash will stop you from being happy today. So, the unfinished session, worries about the embassy interview, quiet gatherings on the 5th-floor roof, and the ritual of smearing cake with close friends in honor of your departure are already behind. Somehow we managed to get out of the JFK airport territory. I realized one thing: the airport of our beloved capital, Astana, is very miniature compared to the New York one. If you still couldn't do it, then people in orange vests will gladly help you. During an hour-long subway ride, I saw the most extraordinary and brave people in terms of their appearance. Somewhere I read that New York is the capital of freedom! But I didn't think it was in everything. It was cold. The air conditioners were working at 100%. But that didn't stop us from watching the funny movements of street dancers in the carriage, who, I think, made us even happier and made us realize that this is New York, baby! After overcoming fifty or more steps up, we went out into the large hall of some building. The sounds of a big metropolis were heard, which gave me goosebumps all over my body. I remember how my friend, who was lucky enough to visit the States earlier, said to me, 'Are you ready to see this?' and I, like from the SpongeBob cartoon, answered him: 'Ready, Captain!'. And then, the doors open and I see the rays of that same sun falling on my face. I take a step and stand like a pillar with my mouth open. But in one moment, this metropolis was able to embrace me completely and make me fall in love with it. The variety of so many languages shocked my ears. And the variety of nations shocked my eyes. They were all rushing somewhere and were late. It felt like they were working 24 hours a day, as this wave of people on the streets never stopped.

СЖСырым ЖагипаровDec 20, 2014Read

7 AM on my watch. Lying on the bed, I see the sun rising. Its rays pierce my window and begin to wake me, telling me it's time, time to get ready to go. And I, for my part, understand that tomorrow I will meet that same sun, but in a completely different place. The day passed like in a fog, I barely remember it now. Because that day there was nothing in my head except one thought, the thought that my five-year-old dream would come true today… Here we are already driving in the car with my family in the direction Karaganda-Astana. We listen to music and have fun. But no, there wasn't a single hint that in 5 hours we would part for a whole 3 months. Deep down, of course, we all understand that we will miss each other very much. I will never forget my mom's tears, my brother's instructive words and my sister's smile before the flight. And the funniest thing was that at the airport my brother said that if anything happens, call me immediately! I'll sort everything out. I have always been amazed by his circle of friends. It felt like they were everywhere. And they were always watching me. Well, okay, what's there to be surprised about — we are Kazakhs! All the control and ticket checks were completed, my mom's advice was heard. And that calm female voice announced that my plane had arrived and was ready to take me to my best summer. I hugged everyone tightly, saying that everything would be fine. I left, pulling my stylish leather suitcase in the direction of greenline – a. I would never have thought that I could go crazy from flights. Watching the clouds for these 9 hours, you think a lot, of course not about the meaning of life, but about things like why can't you use phones on a plane? But Wi‑Fi is allowed. Maybe because it's paid? Why do they show the same film? It's stuffy. I, with acquaintances and friends, stand on the street in NYC, in front of the airport; trash is flying and lying on the street, which is not the best impression for me. One thing I know for sure — there is nothing more wonderful than the feeling when you're in America, adrenaline shoots from your eyes and you can't shake the feeling that this world is YOURS! And no trash will stop you from being happy today. So, an unfinished exam session, worries about the embassy interview and quiet gatherings on the roof of the 5th floor and the ritual of smearing cake with close friends in honor of your departure are already behind. Somehow we managed, we managed to get out of the territories of JFK airport. I realized one thing: the airport of our beloved capital – Astana – is very miniature compared to New York's. If you still couldn't do it, the people in orange vests will gladly help you. During an hour ride on the subway, I saw the most extraordinary and bold people regarding their appearance. Somewhere I read that New York is the capital of freedom! But I didn't think that in everything. It was cold. The air conditioners worked at 100%. But that didn't stop us from watching the funny moves of street dancers in the carriage, which, I think, made us even happier and made it clear that this is New York, baby! After climbing fifty or more steps up, we came out into the large hall of some building. The sounds of the big metropolis could be heard, giving me goosebumps all over my body. I remember how my friend, who had the luck to visit the States earlier, asked me "Are you ready to see it?" and I, like from the cartoon SpongeBob, answered him: "Ready, captain!" And then the doors opened and I saw how the rays of that same sun fell on my face. I take a step and stand with my mouth open like a statue. But in a moment this metropolis fully embraced me and made me fall in love with it. The variety of so many languages shocked my ears. And the variety of nations — my eyes. They were all hurrying somewhere and running late. It felt as if they worked 24 hours a day, because it never stopped, it was a wave of people on the streets. That's what they call a city that never slee

LLyudmilaastana_85855873288 · Mar 31, 2010Read

There is no point in describing how much time each student spends filling out the DS, whether it's a missed line or a forgotten checkbox. But such problems can be easily handled with the help of a coordinator and an internet cafe, where I had to run about 5 times to get everything perfect. I think it's worth starting from that very day when I went for my visa, a day that crept up so unexpectedly, and which will be described further... February 10, 2010, 04:25 Today, in the literal sense of the word, history was being made—perhaps not the kind of great history that could affect everyone, but the history of my destiny and the destinies of those who, on the same day and at the same hour, found themselves before the threshold of the United States Embassy. But first things first... The Almaty-Astana train stopped in the sleeping city at 4:10 AM. Karaganda greeted it coldly, with 30-degree frosts and a wind that turned this frost into a gusty, freezing storm. The conductor, having turned my ticket over in his chilled hands, glanced at my ID and immediately returned the documents to me with the words: "Thirteenth seat, please go ahead." "Thirteenth seat? Wow!" flashed through my head—"a good number!" Looking once more at my parents standing on the platform, undoubtedly more confident in me than I was in myself, I entered the sleeping carriage. A few minutes later, the train started moving, carrying me away from my small hometown to the capital, toward new events and sensations that I had to go through that day. It is hardly possible to describe the state of a person who, in confusion, seems confident in their knowledge and wit, but understands the full seriousness of the upcoming event and how excitement can affect its outcome. Those who have experienced something similar will certainly understand. The train gradually picked up speed, and the sound of the wheels was soothing and made me sleepy, which is what the people in the same compartment as me were doing. I close my eyes. What could be simpler? You just need to mentally "play out" the whole situation in your head, "invent" the future, and it will have no choice but to happen. I have never suffered from a lack of imagination, so vivid pictures race through my head, leaving a feeling of satisfaction and peace: everything will be fine! There is no doubt about it! - Do you mind? – someone's voice interrupted my "forecasting." - Please. A venerable old man sits down opposite me with a cup of hot tea, and after asking who I am and where I am coming from, he decides that keeping me from being bored is his mission for today. It's true what they say, you never know what you'll hear on a train, and most importantly, how long a conversation can drag on. It was already light outside when the story about the last, seventh ancestor of his lineage was finished, and returning to the present, the aksakal began to scold his good-for-nothing grandson. Astana, meanwhile, was also not very welcoming in terms of weather. I didn't hesitate, and after sitting in the waiting room for 30 minutes, I took a taxi and headed to the embassy. I needed to be there by 10, but those who arrived earlier were graciously let inside. There is nothing terrible about handing over your belongings, going through the metal detector, and entering another room where students waiting to be called, and those who for some other reason were forced to apply for a visa, sat in rows on chairs. The most terrible and difficult thing was to maintain the calm I had prepared for in advance. Still, an unusual environment strongly affects the subconscious. I look at the guard opening the doors for me one after another (well, what a gentleman!) and come to the conclusion that he is saying something to me; it's a pity I didn't understand what. :-) Those waiting for their turn are looking at the "newcomer" out of boredom, and from the last row, someone's hand waves in greeting. Well, finally, someone I know! Alisa arrived an hour earlier an

LLyudmilaastana_85855873288 · Mar 31, 2010Read

There is no point in describing how much time each student spends filling out the DS — now a missed line, now a forgotten checkbox. But such problems can be easily managed with the help of a coordinator and an internet café, to which one had to run about five times to bring everything to perfection. I think it's worth starting with that very day when I set off for the visa, the day that crept up so unexpectedly, and which will be described below... 10 February 2010, 04:25 Today, in the literal sense of the word, history was being made — not the great kind that could touch everyone, but the history of my fate, and the fates of those who on that same day and hour found themselves at the threshold of the embassy of the United States. But let's go in order…. The Almaty–Astana train stopped in the sleeping town at 4:10 a.m. Karaganda greeted it coldly, with thirty-degree frost and wind that turned that frost into a gusting, chilling storm. The conductor, turning my ticket in his numb hands, looked at my ID and immediately handed my documents back with the words: 'thirteenth seat, please come in.' 'Thirteenth seat? Wow!' flashed through my mind — 'a good number!' Glancing once more at my parents standing on the platform, undoubtedly more confident in me than I was myself, I entered the sleeping carriage. A few minutes later the train pulled away, taking me from my small hometown to the capital, to the new events and sensations I was to go through that day. It's hard to describe the state of a person who, confused, seems confident in their knowledge and resourcefulness, but understands the seriousness of the upcoming event and how nervousness can affect its outcome. Those who have felt that will understand. The train gradually picked up speed, and the clatter of wheels soothed and lulled to sleep, as did the people sharing my compartment. I closed my eyes. What could be simpler? You just have to mentally 'play out' the whole situation, 'invent' the future, and nothing will remain but for it to happen. I never lacked imagination, so vivid pictures flashed through my head, leaving feelings of satisfaction and calm: everything will be fine! No doubt about it! 'Do you mind?' — someone interrupted my 'forecasting' with a voice. 'Please.' A respectable old man sat down opposite me with a cup of hot tea, and after asking who I was and where I was going, decided that keeping me from being bored was his mission for the day. It's true what they say — you hear all sorts of things on a train, and the main thing is how long a conversation can stretch. It was already light outside when the story of the last, seventh ancestor of his family was finished, and returning to the present the elder began scolding his idle grandson. Astana, meanwhile, was not too welcoming in terms of weather either. I didn't hesitate, and after sitting for 30 minutes in the waiting hall I took a taxi and headed to the embassy. You had to get in by 10, but those who arrived earlier were mercifully let inside. There is nothing scary about handing over your things, passing through a metal detector and entering another room where students waiting to be called sat in rows of chairs, as well as those who for other reasons needed a visa. The scariest and hardest part was maintaining the calm I had set myself beforehand. After all, an unusual environment strongly affects the subconscious. I look at the guard flinging doors open for me one after another (what a gentleman!) and come to the conclusion that he is saying something to me — too bad I didn't understand what. :-) The people waiting for their turn boredly examine the 'new girl,' and from the last row someone's hand waves in greeting. Finally — someone familiar! Alisa had arrived an hour earlier and had already gotten used to the new setting. Here comes the last wave of fear, after which will follow either complete calm or unbridled panic. I sit down and, after exchanging a couple of phrases with my friend, try once more to