Leafy Almaty

Urban, conrete, Soviet; but with charm

Welcome to the home of the apple! Orchards aplenty, boulevards a many; grided roads like New York, gridlocked roads like Sao Paulo; uphill roads like San Francisco, high altitude like Mexico City; so basically a bit like Berlin but not really, all set in the stunning Tian Shan mountains. The city of Almaty, Kazakhstan's largest and, as the Lonely Planet would probably say, 'most cosmopolitan city - a cultural and financial centre', is lush. I do dislike guide books immensely! 

The apple supposedly originates here in leafy Almaty; more certainly, the apple's extinction will begin here - the orchards are actually all but destroyed by 'ill-considered building developments' as one horrible guide book puts it. 

 

Autumn in full swing

First stop: Medeu. I can't help you with the pronunciation of this, other than to suggest emphasising the second 'e' but making more of an 'eh' sound, but cross it with an 'ow' sound. So get someone to poke you with a pin while simultaneously trying to say 'eh'. Me-DEH(ow)-eu. As you can tell, Russian lessons are progressing at about the same rate as the Turan Express train.

Me-DEH(ow)-eu is an Olympic sized skating rink, so basically it's massive, nestled in the mountains above Almaty. If you read a guide book it will tell you the very unimportant 'fact' that Medeu is the highest altitude Olympic sized skating rink in the world; your book may mis-quote it as the highest or biggest skating rink in the world, but it is neither. Please wash your hands after using your guide book. Yuck.

Almaty: 'nestled' in the mountains, according to a leading guide book.

I was looking forward to skating on a big rink, and to showing off my skating skills to my friends. However, the president of Azerbijan must not have realised we were coming and quite crassly decided to visit Me-DEH(ow)-eu at the same time; the place was on lock down with policemen everywhere and certainly no skating. It was nice to see so many big hats.

Medeu in a cloud. See guide book for irrelevant details.

The ice-rink is massive, and its apparent size was exaggerated by the cloud which we were in at the time: it was never possible to see from one end to the other. There's a gigantic metal sculpture of some speed skaters, and classically colossal flood lights whose rays couldn't cut through the cloud. The place had an air of mystery about it; and the shear size of it seemed very soviet. I actually don't know why. Maybe I just wanted it to seem soviet.

Steps up the dam. Guide books are bad.

We walked beyond the rink and up the steps on the adjacent dam which stops mud slides engulfing Almaty. Your guide book may tell you there are 831 steps up the dam; it may say 840; it may say 842. Be careful with those things, they're both useless and dangerous. 

We climbed the steps, turned down a very generous offer from a taxi driver to commandeer our worldly wealth in exchange for a short trip higher up the mountain, enjoyed the view of the cloud from above - vastly different to its appearance from below - and returned down the steps to the sound of the Russian national anthem being belted from the huge speakers on the enormous PA system at the undisputed heavywight ice-rink champion of the world, Med-DEH(ow)-eu, and got the bus back to town for some seriously delicious lamb at a resturant whose name is too long to remember.

All aboard, the NIGHT train!

James Brown: a night train

We took the 'Turan Express' night train down to Almaty. Far from express, this 19 hour journey is for people who aren't in a hurry; this includes us as we were taking a few days off. Three of us travelled, and the cabins hold four persons, so excitement grew as the time came close and we wondered who our mystery fourth travelmate would be.

There is a faster train, and indeed one with a toilet that's not super rank, but we took this train to 'enjoy the scenery', i.e. save some money, but also we heard that it's a great experience: that we'll make new friends who offer us food and ply us with vodka which it's impolite to refuse. Real lonely planet stuff.

Doug Lazenby: a crossword

We brought vodka and all sorts of home made food for the adventure. Our cabinmate turned out to be a lovely Kazakh man who before long had given us a pot of delicious natural honey. He was on his way to Mecca, making hajj; hence the vodkathon didn't materialise!

Many people from around here are puzzled by our desire to take the train, so let's hover on that for a moment. Firstly, the steppe is actually interesting the first few times you see it.

Stove: this is no Pendolino

More importantly trains are a pleasure to be onboard anyway: plenty of space and time to do crosswords (above right). This particular train had coal fired heating on each carriage (left), and there was a tap dispensing hot water to make tea whenever you wish. Rad!

Forget being stuck in a car; forget losing your luggage after check-in, your dignity after security, and your health after sitting in a sealed tube with 100 other people's exhaust for hours. Consign coaches to the past - a primtive form of torture. It's all about the train, the night train. They rock you to sleep, they arrive in the centre of town, and they save you the cost of a night's accommodation. Three cheers for night trains.

Keywords: steppe, puddle, industry

For the return journey we got the 'Ispanski' (Spanish train), which takes a mere 12 hours. This functional machine, faster, more efficient, with plastic walls and an airline style toilet, does everything you'd wish but without the soul (or the space) that the mis-named express train offers. However, with a clean toilet, it was a happy medium. This time we did meet someone keen to polish off multiple bottles of Russian water; some of us - I won't name Doug's name - were plenty keen to join in.

All in all, some very happy travelling experiences. 

Left: strange friend; right: friendly stranger Ispanksi: functional

Steppes top chart

In celebration of world pop group Steppes hitting no.1 in the UK album chart, we've decided to go on a pilgrimage to their origin in Kazakhstan: the great steppe. In their early days Steppes played gigs supporting Genghis Khan and were later signed to bigger labels such as the Tsars and the USSR - the latter of which was a period where the band produced the hit single Better Best Forgotten, written about the gulag, Chain Reaction, which is about the nuclear test sites, and Tragedy which is about the ecological disaster in the Aral Sea area.

World pop group, Steppes. Big, arid, and tragic.

When the USSR record label broke up the band followed the trend at the time and signed up to an independent label in 1991. They released the single It's The Way You Make Me Feel to explain why they left the USSR label [citation needed]. The band threatened to break up but have stayed together over the years.

The change game

Hats with large diameters

Kazakhstan is changing beyond recognition yet there is no change anywhere in the country! Everywhere we go, when we pay for something we're given a stern look and are told something in Russian; we reply with nipanymayoo (don't understand) apologetically; but we get the gist: they're asking for the correct change.

Of course, we don't have the right change, because we carefully counted it out for the last person - all we have left is notes! So because everyone needs change, nobody has any change.

Gotham architecture

This is the Triumph of Astana building, which to me has Gotham City written all over it. It's a magnificent building, absolutely massive. On a grey day I expect batman to be standing on one of the top corners, his cape undulating in the breeze, looking down on the doomed metropolis that he is trying to save.

Triumph of Astana: home to Wayne enterprises

Astana is in fact a shiney, new, medium sized city which is impressively clean and very peaceful. It's full of aspiring bureaucrats, technocrats - career people. In fact, it wouldn't be unfair to accuse Astana, shiney as it may be, of lacking a bit of soul. Everything's new new new, which is exciting, but there's a bit of a lack of history. And so the Triumph of Astana is a very welcome building: it may be new, but it looks so formidable and adds a lot of weight to a place which otherwise feels quite light.

The Triumph of Astana is built in the style of the so-called 'Seven Sisters' - seven Stalinist gothic skyscrapers in Moscow. So some people see the building is a bit of a 'look what we can do' symbol from Kazakhstan to its former master.

A night at the opera

Doug enjoys the opera

Culture and that, we went to the opera. Doug paid 400 Tenge in advance for his ticket, while I turned up and paid 300 Tenge on the door. Doug had the last laugh though as, after a lot of Russian chat - of which I understood nothing - I, with my cut-price ticket, was given a chair in the isle and had to sit there for the first part of the opera. Not comfortable.

Our tickets both cost less than $2, so all of this is (heavily subsidised) peanuts. Thus, it may not surprise you to hear that the quality of the opera was mediocre. What would I know? Nothing, but I asked David, a charming Scotsman who a) speaks fluent Russian, b) is an Opera singer, and c) was also there with us. David is an impressive man. The opera is not. It's not a man so that doesn't make sense, I just mean the opera wasn't impressive. The exception was the lead (Violetta?) who was really good.

The young guy was played by an old guy, the old guy was played by a young guy, and they all sang Italian in a Russian accent (the Russian subtitles really helped clarify the plot for me!). Luckily with opera it seems you don't actually need to know the meaning of the words to get the gist of the story. They fall in love and someone dies. No surprises there. This was La Traviata, this was a really fun night out.

Arched bench

The Saruarka shopping mall (you've got to really roll the last 'r' - Saru-arrrrka, like an arc) is architectureally indistinct - a big boxy building - but inside it's lovely. It's big, light and has open, flowing spaces with great curves. In particular I found this arched bench quite charming. One for the album! It means a few friends can sit on it and feel that little bit more sociable. 

Astana does have such lovely benches.

Likewise two stuffy Brits could sit on it facing opposite directions (see Bench for two ...), one looking down over the shoppers below (lonely?), the other facing the windows of the shops upstairs (aspirational?). Probably they're just exhausted from shopping. Astana has more shopping malls than the rest of the world combined. This place is literally a stone's throw from MEGA center, and another stone's throw will get you to the Khan Shatyr - the 'king's tent'. Now Buzz Lightyear may think the MEGA center is the mothership; meanwhile he'd walk on by the Saruarka mall without blinking an eye; but the Khan Shatyr, that really is something else - I think Buzz Lightyear will want to stay firmly rooted on Earth once he finds Khan Shatyr. I'll tell you about it soon!

Return of the toilet signs

The sign on the toilets is of course a cyrillic 'zh', which is the first letter of the word 'zhenshina' (женщина) for woman. The origin of this word is that women in the former USSR used to have six legs until capitalism came and saved them from that horrible fate.

The other toilets, I have discovered, have a letter M which is for male in Russian (мужчина), so we can only presume that capitalism saved men here from a life somehwhat similar to a daddy-long-legs. 

 

Tacky towers

Here we begin our Astana Architecture Odyssey. This place is like something out of SimCity, with buildings appearing almost instantly one by one. It's not just boring apartment blocks; there are endless shopping malls (see MEGA center! and others to come), and a flotilla of fantastic architecture floating on this former swamp: some of it is actually really good, some is reasonable, and some is fantastically terrible. As a whole it is certainly  spectacular.

Bayterek

Tower

We begin with the Bayterek Tower. This 97m piece of tack is supposedly this height because of the year that it was conceived. Now, either it took them about 1900 years to build this thing, in which case it is particularly underwhelming, or they built it about 1900 metres too short. The Bayterek Tower sits at the epicentre of Astana's remarkable rebirth. It represents Kazakhstan's confidence and ambition, both of which are exhilerating to say the least; but the tower is pretty silly. I'm yet to go inside, so will report back when I've had a closer look.

Northern lights: a new wave of archiecture

Pictured on the right is the Northern Lights complex. These eye-catching, wavy towers are  mostly  residential. Tacky? I'll leave you to decide. People who live there report a tacky interior - most perilously the lifts have caused some serious injuries. Nevertheless, they add to Astana's increasingly impressive skyline.

More on Astana archiecture soon!

Actual Kazbar

Jamie enjoys Kazbar. Note: lasers, dry-ice, and
upholstered pillars, all telltale signs of a night club.

Having slogged away at work things are now a bit more balanced and I am free to research Astana's nightlife. Those of you who know me will know that I LOVE CLUBBING, so you will be sure to see very many more posts here on nightlife in Kazakhstan. For example, at least one more between now and Christmas.

Kazbar is a classic lounge/club, with lots of seating, upholstered pillars, and a small dance floor. It's free on the door, the drinks are expensive as you'd expect, and it's dark with lots of laser lights. I suppose all clubs are, but what with me being a seasoned clubber, i.e. I don't actually go clubbing, these things seems relevant to me. To summarise it's a nice place, and I'd recommend going there for a dance (of course, I just stayed in the corner making objective, rational observations).

There were a band playing and they were really, really good. Now I came straight from the work do so however inebriated my point of view was at this point in the vodka marathon, it was approximately the same between leaving the work do and arriving at Kazbar, so at least we have a benchmark! I didn't like the music there, and I did like the music here.

The leader of the band had a mullet that was definite and, this time, not subtle at all. Chris Waddle would have been very jealous of this, the uniformity of the rat tails was so great that I don't think they were rat tails - just a very fine mullet. The dress shirt and geek/metro glasses also added to the confusion. They began with a Reggae number which was fab, and spanned a wide spectrum of genres; in particular I was impressed by how seamlessly they snuck in Armand van Heldon (baby ... moonlight ... duh duh duh duh ... de-light ... duh duh ... and you know duh duh duh - you know the one?!) - it was immaculate. And the swing and old rock-n-roll were great too; we'll forgive them for the slow songs; immaculate but with genuine soul, I was so impressed.

Ordering drinks in Kazakhstan is relatively easy because vodka is actually a Russian word. Probably needless to say, Sunday was a washout. 

I don't think this actually counts as 'clubbing', more 'lounge-barring', but I did have a great time. It was also a successful evening because I didn't go to 'Guns and Roses pub-grille'. It is my mission while here NOT to go there as I hear only bad things. But everyone goes there so standby for some horror!

Kazbar

We began the evening at a work do before moving on to Kazbar. The work do included some entertainment, the most memorable of which was, firstly, 'Dancing group Eurasia', a trio who came out in different outfits to do different types of dance; starting, of course, with Kazakh ('Dancing group Eurasia, with Kazakh dance'), followed by flamenco ('Ladies and Gentlemens, dancing group Eurasia, with Flamenco dance'). You've got to emphasise the last two syllables if you really want to get a feel for this guy announcing the dancing. Dancing group eurASIA! Ladies and Gentlemens, please welcome dancing group eurASIA with belly dancing! 

There was also a man playing the Kazakh dombura, a two stringed instrument that you strum. He was incredible. He was technically very impressive and also I genuinely liked the sound as well (it wasn't just nice because it was 'cultural'!).

Speaking of cultural, the other memorable entertainment was not so impressive, but cultural nonetheless. He was a fairly young looking guy in all black smart wear but for his white blazer, and short dark hair with a subtle but very definite mullet. He was playing a large saxophone which had a radio mic so he was free to roam. He played some great tunes murderously - e.g. Gershwin's summer time, a couple of Stevie Wonder numbers, and Killing me Softly. The saxohpone sound was worse than Kenny G (I didn't previously think this was possible - although I suspected that Bill Clinton would make a good effort), and this was multiplied by the way he strolled around the desserted dance floor, taking a slow soft step backwards, looking at the sky as he emphasised all the wrong notes. It was gross! Actually, I think I'll just put a video of him here and save Kazbar for another entry.

He throws his hand up in tacky joy after a few seconds.
Also note the faint karaoke accompaniment. Fabulously unbearable!

Central heating

A colourful horse in a small park in Astana

The heating here is controlled by a central authority - this takes central heating to a whole new level! It's getting chilly but we must wait for 15th October regardless of the weather! It is 17.5 C in my bedroom and this is not cool. If you know what I mean. 

Don't worry, you can get an exemption if you write a letter to the ministry of interior explaining why this should be so.

P.S. This entry was delayed as the government plays doorman with the internet connection. The heating seems to have come on a couple of days early, which is nice. It's now a cool 20C in my bedroom.

Toilet signs strike back

Clarification has been added to one of the toilets

Fear not, confused ones! We all have to go to the toilet, so this is a problem for us all. The signs on the toilets weren't enough to identify the male / female toilets and something needed to be done. 

I have been lucky enough not to find myself in any particularly awkward situations, but it appears at least one unlucky soul has. Someone from the wrong sex has been going in this toilet and someone must have become quite upset. The offendee, so upset they were, has taken matters into their own hands (tenticles?). They have printed a large logo and stuck it to the door of the toilet. 

This is a service to humanity! Now we all know! Only insects (but not daddy long legs!) can use this toilet. Clarity at last!

That'll Duman

The Duman hotel, looking very maritime.

What's it like to live in a hotel? Do you feel like Nikoli Tesla? In the Waldoorf Astoria? In New York? Around the turn of the 20th Century? 

A little bit, but not really.

Probably the most notable thing about the Duman hotel, our humble home for the last month, is the massive atrium in the middle of the building. Flooded with light throughout the day, it transforms at night. If I were a masked despot and my good-for-nothing son came back to cause trouble and I wanted to cut his hand off with a magical sword, then this would be the perfect setting (see below).

Inside the Duman: more death-star than frigate.

It's also in a fabulous location: by the park, the river, the old town, and a short walk from pretty much everywhere. All of this, of course, pales into insignificance when considering the benefits of having MEGA center just next door. It's MEGA.

The restaurant's panoramic views almost make up for the shoddy food; the chicken has the mechanical properties of a pencil eraser. There's little joy with the laundry department either - the bill is $400 and counting yet they shrunk my lovely new shirt. My little brother will probably be the main benefactor here. I'm not impressed.

Do stay here, but don't eat here, don't do your laundry here, and watch out for Storm Troopers.

MEGA center!

The entrance to MEGA center.

What embodies capitalism more than a shopping mall?! Welcome to MEGA center! Surfaces that aren't glass are marble, brands that aren't western aren't here. The Cyrillic alphabet (otherwise the only alphabet in town) is nowhere to be seen. The prices are astronomical - I don't know who in Kazakhstan can afford to buy anything here; but we don't buy things, we just like walking round! 

You're struck even before entry by the fountains, the trees bursting with bright red lights, and the obligatory western music streaming from the outdoor speakers. I did enjoy it when The Beatles were playing.

The joke is that all we do is hang out in MEGA center, which of course is only slightly true, but I do tend to enjoy these slightly tacky incongruities. For example, my 'Bob Marley T-bone steak' in a Jamaican restaurant in the old Soviet part of town was as delightful and incongruous as it gets.

Back on point, below is MEGA centre as viewed from our hotel with fireworks really hammering home its presence on the weekend. If Toy Story 4 is set in Astana, then Buzz Lightyear will definitely be heading for MEGA center under the impression that it is the mother-ship to take him to infinity and beyond - he might just be right!

Fireworks over MEGA center. Something is lurking behind the fireworks - surely nothing could usurp the MEGA center?!