Almaty
We live in an era where the former Soviet countries are
regenerating their cityscapes. The Wedding Palaces & brutalist tower blocks
are being purged in favour of a modern look. Uniformity is no longer desirable
& a scatter-gun colour palette has taken its place. The monochrome USSR
dress-code is out of date.
Except, Almaty has other ideas.
The city is well-dressed in its Soviet clothes. Mosaics sparkle & murals shine, restored. Statues of the old leaders are still on show in town. They’re just no longer in the centre. Now, clumped together in an outlying micro-district, Uncle Joe & Lenin look like a tribute band of gesticulating socialists.
Architects were noted on plaques in Almaty & the metro was a 15 kilometre artwork in itself. Why aren’t all subway systems lit by chandeliers?
Communication could be problematic. Kazakh & Russian the
staple languages. Some English among the young & also the Chelsea fans in
town for an away game. Borat jokes, mostly.
Almaty is walkable, with a canopy of maple trees & a
string of mini-parks. Blue December skies & crunching snow underfoot added
a pretty border to the overall picture.
It’s only when I ventured up into the surrounding mountains
in search of a Beatles statue that the city lost its lustre. Looking down,
chimneys smoked & cars crawled through the streets. Almaty blurred a little
from above.
In the Green Bazaar, trading since the height of the silk
road I bought round golden bread, fresh from a clay oven. Apples are from
Kazakhstan but wine certainly isn’t, yet I was amazed at the quality in a
country with such dramatic extremes between the seasons. Back in town, a small
coffee scene has emerged, with aloof baristas & cosy rooms, individual in
character & a respite against the cold outside. A lovely city.
Astana
Astana wasn’t like Almaty in any obvious way. No nature
peeking behind the manmade. The city walker was a lesser citizen than the car
driver. Squashed verges, metro-rail construction across town & a simmering
aggressiveness among the drivers. Hiking the city was a challenge.
Diffuse architecture defined Astrana. Gimmick constructions
with prosaic names; dog bowls & eyeballs. Elsewhere blue mirror oil HQs
& Rubik pyramids sat amid an older city, already showing its age.
But away from the silliness were some gems; white-marble mosques & timber hotels hiding low-lit restaurants & wine markets.
