However, our adventures weren't necessarily on the same scale as before, and I think that is why I am just now getting around to writing about them. Kazakhstan is different from anywhere else I have ever traveled, a place not really regarded as a must-see tourist destination. That isn't to say there is not plenty to explore and experience...even just walking around the city was an adventure in some ways. But, there wasn't the typical sense of wonder and awe that have accompanied my past travels. I found this trip challenged me more on an nintellectual level, a truly intercultural experience in which I could barely find my footing. It was daunting coming to a country where visitors are often met with suspicion from the outset, and my normal manner of coping with the situation--a quick smile imbued with the apology for my overwhelming ignorance--was quickly dismissed. For once, I found it easier to get through by maintaining a cloak of indifference, not seeming overly interested in what others around me were doing. While it made it easier to blend in (if given a quick look over, I guess I can pass for someone of Russian descent...one of the more interesting things about Almaty is its mixture of peoples found in the area, a remnant dating as far back as Stalin's rule and his penchant for exiling people to as remote of places as possible), I found it discouraging. I had hoped to have a few more encounters with Kazakhs, to be honest. A naive thought in hindsight.
Now, I don't want to give the impression that everyone was unfriendly...I just found that the people of Almaty were far more reserved from what I am used to, a feeling confirmed by Lauren and the other non-Kazakh people I had the pleasure of meeting in my short time there. It takes time to break down the barriers that you encounter, so a quick five day trip doesn't allow enough time to establish any kind of rapport. And I want to note that there were several people who were friendly to me during the trip, it just was the exception rather than the rule. (One man, Kidur, sticks out in my mind. He is one of the guards at the international school my friend teaches at...we went to the construction site of the new school building, and he was there, smiling the biggest smile I had seen since arriving. It made my day, actually.)
Still, being able to walk the city, visit its parks, its markets gave me a glimpse of everyday life in Kazakhstan. There is an interesting mix of East meets West meets Soviet. (I am not really sure how to categorize the impact that being under Soviet rule has had on Kazakhstan, the country's identity, and its enduring culture.) As part of my exploration, I visited one of their malls. It was populated with several brand name stores found in any of your more upscale shopping centers in the United States, yet it felt like simulacrum of the real thing. Even now, I cannot put my finger on what gave it that feeling of artifice. Indeed, many of the more recent updates to the city feels a bit like that...as if in an effort to make its exterior more appealing to the outsider (which, I believe, is one of President Nazerbaev's goals), instead of building something authentically Kazakh, they have constructed a facade that they believe will appeal to the tourist.
It doesn't take long, though, to get beneath the facade. The moment you step on a bus, you are hit full in the face that this is NOT like any Western country you have ever been in. The more people who can be crammed into a bus, the better. No need to worry about maintaining a respectable amount of personal space...it does not exist. At the same time, if you find your backpack jamming its way into someone else's back just as someone's hand draws precariously close to your face, it is all part of the experience. No one gets angry, it is all just taken in stride. (Try that here and if the bus wasn't pulled over for being overcapacity, I do not doubt that there would be some kind of commuter rage that would spark small fights all over the place.) And, having endured the joys of the bus only to find the place you were going to go has been randomly closed (no warning, no real explanation) clinches it...it makes you want to hike the several miles back through the utilitarian concrete buildings littering the landscape back to your room, where you can close out the dirt and the grime for a little while (but only after taking a ride on an elevator so small, four average-sized adults have to strategically place themselves to fit while maintaining the right balance to prevent it from scraping its way up the shaft). It feels as if there is a blanket of unspoken oppression hovering above the city still. Lauren says that, even after twenty years of freedom, the oppressive force of Soviet rule still permeates and that as a result, few people have hope. While I would not go as far as to say that, I admit that something certainly is lacking, so much so that an outsider like me felt it the first day I was there.
As I write this, I notice that my words seem laced with negativity, and I can only say that comes from my level of discomfort and a little bit of disillusionment. I wasn't sure what to expect, but despite having few preconceived notions, I feel a bit let down. BUT, there is an amazing amount of beauty to be found there. A stroll through President's Park is enough to make anyone gape at its beauty, particularly with the trees blazing in all their fall glory in brilliant shades of gold, the Tien Shan mountains rising in the background. The fountains in this park alone prove a fair rival to those found throughout Kansas City (a mighty feat for those not too familiar with the KC area). The level of pride expressed in the war memorials found in Paniflov Park resonate with anyone who knows the tragedy of war. The incongruous brightness of the Cathedral found just outside of Paniflov provides a contrast to the seemingly drab surroundings. Driving above the smog-line to be closer to the mountains reveals beauty incomparable, a true gem of natural beauty that few outsiders have ever had the opportunity to see.
I debated for a long time as to how I would answer people when asked what it was like to visit Kazakhstan. I still don't have the best answer. It was not quite what I had expected, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. No, I didn't go traipsing about the mountains or sit down and discuss world politics with the locals over a few shots of vodka. No, I didn't indulge in local foods, haggle at the bazaar, or anything like that. But I did get to witness, observe. I went somewhere that few others have ever thought to go, and I was reminded that what to us may seem so far in the past is still very much a reality for others. Reading about Kazakhstan and experiencing it for myself are two very different realities. And this is yet another reason to travel...it isn't enough to read about somewhere to understand it. The levels of complexity in experiencing somewhere new cannot be captured in words, no matter how skilled a wordsmith you happen to be. It also reinforced the reality that my world view is only one in a multitude and that I really do not know anything. I can travel to every country in the world, read every travel guide, and meet hundreds of people and not seen even a fraction of what is out there. Doesn't mean I won't keep trying though.
Now, I don't want to give the impression that everyone was unfriendly...I just found that the people of Almaty were far more reserved from what I am used to, a feeling confirmed by Lauren and the other non-Kazakh people I had the pleasure of meeting in my short time there. It takes time to break down the barriers that you encounter, so a quick five day trip doesn't allow enough time to establish any kind of rapport. And I want to note that there were several people who were friendly to me during the trip, it just was the exception rather than the rule. (One man, Kidur, sticks out in my mind. He is one of the guards at the international school my friend teaches at...we went to the construction site of the new school building, and he was there, smiling the biggest smile I had seen since arriving. It made my day, actually.)
Still, being able to walk the city, visit its parks, its markets gave me a glimpse of everyday life in Kazakhstan. There is an interesting mix of East meets West meets Soviet. (I am not really sure how to categorize the impact that being under Soviet rule has had on Kazakhstan, the country's identity, and its enduring culture.) As part of my exploration, I visited one of their malls. It was populated with several brand name stores found in any of your more upscale shopping centers in the United States, yet it felt like simulacrum of the real thing. Even now, I cannot put my finger on what gave it that feeling of artifice. Indeed, many of the more recent updates to the city feels a bit like that...as if in an effort to make its exterior more appealing to the outsider (which, I believe, is one of President Nazerbaev's goals), instead of building something authentically Kazakh, they have constructed a facade that they believe will appeal to the tourist.
It doesn't take long, though, to get beneath the facade. The moment you step on a bus, you are hit full in the face that this is NOT like any Western country you have ever been in. The more people who can be crammed into a bus, the better. No need to worry about maintaining a respectable amount of personal space...it does not exist. At the same time, if you find your backpack jamming its way into someone else's back just as someone's hand draws precariously close to your face, it is all part of the experience. No one gets angry, it is all just taken in stride. (Try that here and if the bus wasn't pulled over for being overcapacity, I do not doubt that there would be some kind of commuter rage that would spark small fights all over the place.) And, having endured the joys of the bus only to find the place you were going to go has been randomly closed (no warning, no real explanation) clinches it...it makes you want to hike the several miles back through the utilitarian concrete buildings littering the landscape back to your room, where you can close out the dirt and the grime for a little while (but only after taking a ride on an elevator so small, four average-sized adults have to strategically place themselves to fit while maintaining the right balance to prevent it from scraping its way up the shaft). It feels as if there is a blanket of unspoken oppression hovering above the city still. Lauren says that, even after twenty years of freedom, the oppressive force of Soviet rule still permeates and that as a result, few people have hope. While I would not go as far as to say that, I admit that something certainly is lacking, so much so that an outsider like me felt it the first day I was there.
As I write this, I notice that my words seem laced with negativity, and I can only say that comes from my level of discomfort and a little bit of disillusionment. I wasn't sure what to expect, but despite having few preconceived notions, I feel a bit let down. BUT, there is an amazing amount of beauty to be found there. A stroll through President's Park is enough to make anyone gape at its beauty, particularly with the trees blazing in all their fall glory in brilliant shades of gold, the Tien Shan mountains rising in the background. The fountains in this park alone prove a fair rival to those found throughout Kansas City (a mighty feat for those not too familiar with the KC area). The level of pride expressed in the war memorials found in Paniflov Park resonate with anyone who knows the tragedy of war. The incongruous brightness of the Cathedral found just outside of Paniflov provides a contrast to the seemingly drab surroundings. Driving above the smog-line to be closer to the mountains reveals beauty incomparable, a true gem of natural beauty that few outsiders have ever had the opportunity to see.
I debated for a long time as to how I would answer people when asked what it was like to visit Kazakhstan. I still don't have the best answer. It was not quite what I had expected, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. No, I didn't go traipsing about the mountains or sit down and discuss world politics with the locals over a few shots of vodka. No, I didn't indulge in local foods, haggle at the bazaar, or anything like that. But I did get to witness, observe. I went somewhere that few others have ever thought to go, and I was reminded that what to us may seem so far in the past is still very much a reality for others. Reading about Kazakhstan and experiencing it for myself are two very different realities. And this is yet another reason to travel...it isn't enough to read about somewhere to understand it. The levels of complexity in experiencing somewhere new cannot be captured in words, no matter how skilled a wordsmith you happen to be. It also reinforced the reality that my world view is only one in a multitude and that I really do not know anything. I can travel to every country in the world, read every travel guide, and meet hundreds of people and not seen even a fraction of what is out there. Doesn't mean I won't keep trying though.
