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About Astana

So, escort—makes me chuckle, it does. Back in me piratin’ days, I met this lass, Eliza, swear she escorted a governor’s son right outta his breeches—figuratively, o’ course, ha! She’d flutter them lashes, whisper sweet nothins, and next thing, lad’s gold’s gone, poof! Made me happy as a clam, seein’ her outsmart them posh fools. Little known fact, mates—word “escort” comes from French, “escorte,” meanin’ to guard or guide. Ain’t that a laugh? Guardin’ yer wallet, more like!

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By the time I’m done, it’s dark. I’m exhausted. I head home, thinking about the day. Saksaul-skiy is crazy, man. One minute you’re milking cows, the next you’re dancing in the street.