In the span of an hour, we attempted to make the payment more than a dozen times, but all our efforts were in vain. I never found out the reason, but it seemed that I didn't need a 5-year visa to India after all.

I thanked everyone who had participated and apologized to Jim for taking up so much of his time, and he apologized in return for not being able to help me. I saw how much he wanted to assist me, gathering more and more of his fellow countrymen to my cause, even approaching people who were just passing by, and they all tried their best to help me. It was very heartwarming, and it seemed that such gestures could only happen in India.

After bidding farewell, I headed back to the apartment to collect my belongings and say goodbye to the guys. I walked through half the city to "Sportmaster" to check the prices of backpacks, being confident that they would have them in stock. However, just like in Uralsk, the shelves with backpacks were practically empty, and the one-hundred-liter backpack didn't suit me. Although all my things would fit in such a backpack, and it would be easier to move around with one sturdy backpack instead of two smaller ones.

While strolling through the shopping center, I searched for transportation to Zhitikara and thanks to Instagram, I learned that my friend and former colleague Maxim was currently in Aktobe. We used to work together at the "Pino" restaurant in Moscow near Patriarshiye Prudy. I met up with Maxim at the food court in the shopping center. We exchanged stories about our recent days and how we crossed the borders.

Maxim managed to leave the country only on his second attempt because he wasn't allowed to exit due to a small debt. He had to return to the city to settle that debt before heading back towards the Kazakhstan border. I couldn't even imagine the emotions he must have experienced. His further plan was to fly to Saudi Arabia for work and then go to Brazil for a while.

For me, it was simple: first, reach Zhitikara, and then decide where my desire would take me in India. After we said our goodbyes, I went to the nearest bus stop to inquire about the bus schedule. But, just like in Uralsk, there were no buses, and no one could give me a proper answer about the possibility of taking a bus. Carrying my two backpacks, I returned to the shopping center and continued posting in Telegram that I was looking for a ride to Zhitikara or Kostanay.

I was already considering reaching out to the guys I stayed with and asking them about accommodation for another night, but a miracle happened, and at half-past five in the evening, I received a long-awaited message from the driver.

Hello, I have a car going to Zhitikara.

Good day, how much?

20,000 tenge, leaving right now.

20 is not for me… Maximum is willing to pay 15.

Okay, let's go.

Alright.

Where are you?

I'm at Keruen City Mall.

I'll be there in 15 minutes.

Alright, I'm waiting.

The driver arrived after half an hour, and I had started to think that he wouldn't come. I quickly went downstairs, and we set off for Zhitikara. It turned out he was a taxi driver, and he was transporting a client who also needed to go to Zhitikara, so he didn't mind taking a fellow traveler.

We departed from Aktobe at half-past six in the evening, embarking on a 600 km journey. I mapped out the route to Zhitikara and saw that it would take us 10 hours, but the driver was convinced that we would arrive in 6, maximum 7 hours. I informed Andrei and Masha that I had gotten into the car and, based on the driver's assurances, would reach Zhitikara by midnight.