Kazakhstan by Daniele Somenzi

Kazakhstan This great country, mainly desert, apart from the southern part, given the diversion of the river that fed the Aral Sea; here the water, brought by force, feeds agriculture. Many say it's a terrible mistake to let the Aral Sea dry up, others that with the diverted water there's prosperity for others. Mah, one thing is certain: the Aral Sea is now a third of its former size and in a few years it will disappear, along with its fishermen and all those who lived off fishing; that'll mean they'll go and become farmers where their water went. I enter from the extreme western border from Russia. I cross a river that divides the two states on a barge also loaded with cars and trucks full of straw, all run-down.

The Kazakhs look at me with a cigarette in their mouth and gaze curiously at my 16-year-old motorbike, which for us would already be due for the scrapyard, whereas there it's a fine bike. I don't understand why most Italians after 3 or 4 years have the mania for changing their bike or car, even if it runs fine, throwing away money by the shovelful. I think the vehicle should be repaired and kept going up to 300,000 km and 15 years at least of life, and then we'll think about it. As soon as we moor on the other bank, customs and a stamp on the passport. Not everyone has a Kazakhstan stamp. Two km from there, the first petrol station, and a guy changes my money into the local currency, the Kazakh tenge. I immediately see camels grazing and cemeteries that remind me of the trulli of Alberobello; evidently Marco Polo had been to Puglia and then here too.

Atyrau is the first city I come across: a myriad of oil wells with their iron arms going up and down give us their welcome. Here petrol doesn't cost much, and obviously I understand why. We meet an Italian who works for Agip Petroli and tells us that President Nazarbayev is the usual dictator with a mega-account in Switzerland and doesn't spend for his people. And you can see it, in Atyrau: there are shacks and very beautiful residential areas. Here oil rules. Along with the many iron mines. To the north there's the Baikonur space base, ex-Russian, from where space rockets have departed and depart, surrounded by vast expanses of wheat crops, the famous ex-Russian granary.

The following morning, going round the Caspian Sea without ever seeing it — and this I'm sorry about — I take a miserable road full of holes; not bad for my off-road bike, bad for all the trucks that are forced to take it for work. But, I ask myself, since it's the main road that connects the south-east of the country and a major communication route, why doesn't the president have it asphalted, when he has 20 billion dollars in the bank? Beautiful Italy, I think, when I'm in places like this. The single-track railway line connects the rest of the country, naturally not electrified, with only diesel locomotives. Further on the road practically disappears and we wonder how the trucks and the rest of the traffic manage; evidently they jump on the train. We too are forced to put the motorbikes on a 4x4 vehicle to cover those 10 km of sand. From there on, roads that are a bit more passable.

We sleep in a tent in a little village lost and forgotten by God. A guy tells us it's his land and threatens to set fire to the bikes if we don't pay him a fee. So we decide, in shifts of one hour each, as in the days of military service in the paratroopers, to keep watch all night. Very good, this was needed too; you can't even rest at night after whole days of riding the motorbike. Then villages and then ever-bigger towns. Careful when driving in these places; I don't think someone with a wreck of a car has the money to pay car insurance, so absolutely avoid any unplanned contact with them. Further on I cross a pontoon bridge, exactly like the one that was at Casalmaggiore over the Po river after the bombing of the Second World War, and then another. I naturally film everything. Footage that ends up on YouTube under the name somenzi daniele.

Astana is the capital but I don't pass through it; shortly after I'm at the border with Uzbekistan. bye bye