18/8/2016

We cross again the bridge, this time by bike, and we are in Europe: it's a particular feeling.
All the straight road today sounds in my mind as a long bye bye to Asia and to Kazakhstan, a greeting that is not a farewell, but a goodbye. I'll be back.
The camels that wander through the drills also seem to greet us when we pass and look at them as we did for days: it will be strange not to see their looks always a little funny and curious, as we proceed on our trip.











We arrive at the border and change the remained tenge, we quickly cross the Kazakh side and then we overtake the very long queue of cars to Russia.
Arrived at the head, the guard stops us and tells us that on the paper that they gave us at the first check there is a number, and that is the order of entry: we can still put there by side waiting. We are 118 and 120.
We get there peacefully, but I know I have an ace up its sleeve.
Two foreign bikes are always noticed and in a few minutes comes a graduated guy, who also speaks a bit of English.
"Can I see how you compiled the registration card, so I can help you if you did it wrong?" he says, and I understand that it's time to play my card: I'm careful to put Roberto's passport over the other's and I give it with a smile to the guy.
He opens it and reads the surname: "CELENTANO?!?"
Oh yes, Roby's surname is Celentano: the row and number are no longer important and it's our turn to go ...

Shortly after we are in Russia: the scenery here is green, we cross the Volga on the floating bridge and stop in Astrakhan, where the Russian bikers, as usual, greet with enthusiasm foreigners visiting their country ...