I stumbled forward, bags and passport in hand, and admired the fresh red stamp I'd spent so many evenings dreaming about back home. Kazakhstan! A vast expansive land of wonder and mystique. What would lie in store for us in this country still haunted by the memory of Sasha Baren Cohen's infamous film?
Initially, nothing too exciting. A lengthy marshrutka ride to Almaty through endless golden plains, the occasional rolling hill with the highlight being the word borsch graffitied on the side of the highway (borsch, yes that's right). Nestled against the Altai mountain range, Almaty used to be the country's capital and boasts impressively sized boulevards and old soviet style bloc(k) government buildings. The wide tree lined avenues, pedestrian zones and welcoming attitude of the locals provided for an enjoyable first taste of Kazakhstan. Importantly, we were fortunate enough to stumble upon a Starbeans coffee shop, and quickly made this delicious and blatant rip-off shop part of our daily routine. Highlights of Almaty included visiting the gigantic Green Bazaar, filled with an impressive assortment of fruit, vegetables, dairy, meat hanging on hooks and every imaginable kind of knock-off Nike shoe, as well as an awe inspiring rendition of Phil Collins In the Air Tonight performed by our very own Ryan Jurgens to a sold out crowd at the Hard Rock Cafe Almaty (editor's note: the crowd numbered 12 at most, 2 over-excited fans and 10 exhausted staff members waiting to close the bar because it was 12:30 am on a Wednesday).
We then whizzed out of Almaty and headed north to the capital city of Astana (which translates to "The Capital" in Kazakh) on the incredibly modern overnight express train. After our Indian overnight train experiences, we braced ourselves for a rough ride, but were pleasantly surprised to find clean sheets, soft pillows and comfortable beds as well as a bar car. Needless to say the journey was fantastic and everyone slept soundly that evening.
That morning we arrived in the glamorous city of Astana, one of the youngest cities in the world. Dreamed up on paper by a Japanese architect and brought to life only 20 years ago by high oil prices and President Nazerbayev's (Nazy-B or Biz-Nasty for short) deep pockets, the city is renowned for its ultra modern and sterile look. The main drag features the Presidential Palace at one end, a Kazakh version of the White House featuring an additional huge blue dome on top, a flower bed encrusted promenade flanked by conical shaped golden towers leading to a gargantuan beacon of steel and glass. This centerpiece of the strip rises up in the image of a torch, a large golden globe nestled in the shell of modern twisted steel. At night, LED's illuminate the frame and create an impressive light show, while for a small fee an elevator allows access to the inside of the dome for panoramic vistas. A gold-lined mould of Nazy-B's hand graces the upper level of the dome, allowing visitors to compare their hands to those of their great leader. Further down the main drag an imposing structure dominates the skyline, in what appears to be a bizarre salt shaker / hypodermic needle combination. This fascinating building is in fact the world's largest tent, and houses a massive shopping complex complete with a life size T-Rex and an indoor beach complex for those chilly Astana winters. This modern city is the flagship metropole of Kazakhstan, a beacon for foreign investors, modernity and luxury.
Unfortunately, when we stepped off the train at 9:00 AM, this was not the utopian city we were greeted by. Dark, heavy rain clouds and a biting wind straight off the steppes accompanied us on our walk to the hostel in the old part of town. Kitty corner from a military academy, where officers in hats the size of large dinner plates mulled around smoking, and down a deeply rutted mud road lay a non descript 3 story building worn down to a radiantly plain shade of pale brown following years of harsh winters. Our hostel. The pride of soviet architecture. The room required some DYI capabilities before proper use, such as assembling beds. Yes, literally with a hammer. Thankfully the wifi was excellent and we were able to find new and improved accommodations for the next day.
And what an adventure that was! After some curfufel involving Booking.com, we wound up at the Durok Hostel and back in the Soviet Union of old. The hostel was filled with a crew of Belorussian drill workers working night and day shifts on construction projects around the city. Every single one of them looked like an extra out of a Hollywood movie shot in Eastern Europe. None of them spoke a word of English, and communication was a serious challenge. I believe they called us the ya ni panimayo gang (I don't understand in Russian) because that's what we answered every time they tried to speak to us. Russian is hard. The owner of the hostel, Olga, was a short and plump woman with a face that spoke of years raising unruly children. A veritable babooshka. As we were making ourselves breakfast the first morning, she grew so frustrated with our omelette making technique that she eventually just took over. And then made us eat a plate of cucumbers. The next day, while making a cup of tea for myself, she made me sit down and placed a full plate of freshly baked goods in front of me, and then made sure I'd eaten a slice of pizza her daughter had just brought in. "Eat, eat, eat! You too skinny!". It was the most quintessential babooshka experience.
But the real reason we'd come to Astana was to watch a KHL game, Barys Astana vs Salavat Yulaev. After a lot of walking and scouring the plethora of arenas built in this city (there are six for a town of under one million), we sat down to our choice $5 seats right behind the away net. No beer was sold at the arena, but carrying in a bottle of vodka from the supermarket across the street was apparently kosher. When in post-soviet bloc countries! The atmosphere was electric, and the home team won a 5-3 thriller which included a hat trick and penalty shot goal from Dustin "dusty" Boyd, an ex-Calgary Flames player. By some stroke of good fortune, we ended up sitting right in front of all the wives of the Canadian players on the team, and enjoyed a Russian free conversation at last and some insider knowledge on Astana and the KHL.
Of course, no trip to Astana would be complete without a brief sampling of the local night life. We took full advantage of the long weekend to brush shoulders with the rich, young and glamorous elite of Astana. Our first evening brought us to a bar filled with suits, evening dresses and go go dancers on the bar. We may have stood out a little bit...On the plus side we did make friends with some of the locals, who treated us to breakfast shwarmas and a sunrise walk home. A full day of rest was followed by yet another rager of an evening, and some incredible karaoke peformances including Eric Clapton and Snoop Dogg. Unfortunately, two consecutive evenings of nightlife sapped us of both strength and put a dent in our wallets. But when you spend time with people who's answer to the question what do you do for work is "I don't work, I just spend my dad's money" you know you're out of your tax bracket by a long shot.
Kazakhstan was a bizarre place and at times, especially in Astana, felt very superficial. However as has been the case throughout Central Asia, people were very friendly and always curious as to why we were in Kazakstan. No one could quit figure out why we wanted to visit their country, with confused and flabbergasted looks being the most common reactions.
We now speed north to Russia, headed to Omsk the capital of Siberia, and fingers crossed our Russian visas will indeed work. Hopefully we're not headed to the gulag!
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