We really only came here, by a 20 hour bus ride through shitty roads, with four days left before our flight out of Almaty, to see one thing: Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s home and where he spent time in exile. In reality, we found a pretty fucking cool place in Kazakhstan. The town at night on the weekend we were there was reminiscent of a college town in the US, with music playing all over with young people roaming the streets buying up as much booze as their arms could hold from convenient stores. Despite the former nuclear testing site nearby, where radiation supposedly still looms, the town seems not effected by it in the least, but still comes up in conversation with locals. Now, its another 20 hours back the way we came, which means its time to go get a little lit and hopefully sleep again for a half of those 20 hours.