A week of cycling in southern Kazakhstan and it became clear – I was caught in the middle. Stuck between sticking to a schedule, and pouncing on unforeseen opportunities as they presented themselves. Between challenging myself, and making concessions for the things that challenged me. Between celebrating my accomplishments, and learning from and laughing at my oversights.
To my true Canadian spirit the bear statue called. Grasped in its claws, a cement rendition of meat on a stick – shashlik – calling not to my spirit, but to my stomach. I was in Kazakhstan, I was hungry, and I needed a place to sleep. Effective reconnaissance of the latter can sometimes be completed over a leisurely meal. Continue reading