Out of Hibernation

SPRING!

I have never though of myself as someone particularly impacted by seasonal changes, except that like all good Seattleites I run to the nearest bar with outdoor seating on the first sunny day of the year. But spring is well and truly here and something feels different.

Maybe it was hearing about others’ travels around the region at the South & Central Asia FAST (first and second tour) conference that was held in Almaty this month. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s just the jump start of traveling again–first to Morocco and then to Astana. But as much as all I wanted to do was hibernate from November through January, I am now ready to get serious about exploring.

Catching up with former classmates at the SCA FAST Conference

Fortunately, the spring weather means that CLO is organizing trips outside the city. The Community Liaison Office is generally responsible for keeping Americans from going stir crazy at post. They organize activities that we can opt to join and also serve as a resource if we want to do solo activities. During the winter they tend to focus a bit more on indoor events like trivia or bowling. I arrived at post a week too late to join their brewery tour (dammit!) but recently joined the visit to a local cheese-maker.

There are two local and popular cheeses in Kazakhstan. First there is kurt. It tastes like…hmmm…Imagine if you mixed 2/3 part powdered milk, 1/3 part salt, moistened it enough to roll into little balls, and then left it to dry.

Kurt Cheese

 

I did hear a sweet story about kurt though, at the KarLag museum, about how prisoners being shipped in by the boxcar-load thought locals were throwing rocks at them until they realized it was kurt and that the locals were actually trying to feed them.

Slightly better is chechil, a smoked and braided string cheese. It’s harder than American string cheese and slightly less salty than kurt so that’s something?

Chechil Cheese

These cheeses go a long way to explain why I was so excited to don protective gear and visit the small factory and storefront where they make and sell feta, mozzarella, and Gorgonzola, among others.

Now, am I going to tell the cheese mongers doing their thing at Marché Bastille that they should hang up their aprons because some guy in Almaty can offer way more variety and just as much quality? I am not. But you know, even if this isn’t the best cheese I’ve ever had, I think it IS the best cheese I’ve had in Almaty.

CLO also organized a group of local and American consulate staff to go to a tree-planting event outside the city. Apple trees (natch) needed planting at Pioneer Resort in Ile-Alatau National Park. The park is vast and the resort specializes in helping kids with disabilities of many kinds (translation was sketchy but autism and cerebral palsy were mentioned) learn how to ski. I was excited to help with a good cause and to see some of this park. Sadly, we seem to be alternating glorious sunny days with very rainy and foggy days and this was such a foggy day that I could barely see my fellow tree planters a few feet in front of me, much less sweeping mountain views. But we were treated to a generous lunch of plov and homemade beer so still worth it.

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The weather cleared up just in time for the trip to Tamgaly, a UNESCO World Heritage site of bronze age petroglyphs, discovered by a lady archaeologist (!) in the 1950s. Excepting my vacation in Morocco, this is truly the most I’ve been out of a city since getting here six months ago. It was about a two and a half hour drive from Almaty. In the tree-less steppe the wind whips around but otherwise the weather was perfect–a little bit cloudy, which is better to view the petroglyphs, and chilly enough for a jacket, which is what you want with no source of shade.

A bonus of going in the spring was that many wildflowers were in bloom. I saw forget-me-nots and some other pretty little flowers. Anyone know what these are? They look kind of like bigger forget-me-nots. The steppe was absolutely carpeted with them in several spots.

The petroglyphs were the kind of thing you feel privileged to see when you consider how long they have lasted.

Our guide, who is also a scholar of Kazakhstan history, pointed out the various animals and sun-gods that are clearly carved into the slate rocks but might be difficult to identify as animals and sun-gods without a little help.

How can they have made it into this millennium in any kind of recognizable shape? The wild seasonal temperature fluctuations and a vibration inducing soviet railway that once ran nearby have done a lot to split the rocks into pieces. Although UNESCO funding has helped with preservation.

Hiking through the site is mostly easy, with some bits that are mildly challenging. Our guide told us that this is only one of many such sites in Kazakhstan but it is the place with highest concentration in one area.

CLO trips are one of the few things that are not #yourtaxdollarsatwork. We have to pay for them, but we don’t have to do any of the organizing so it makes it super easy. I told them I basically want to sign up for all of the upcoming trips. At least until November when I will probably go into hibernation again.

Last Days of Astana (First Days of Nur-Sultan)

My three weeks in Astana and three weeks in Nur-Sultan are over.

Midway through my six week TDY (temporary duty) assignment in the capital, the president resigned. This is a big deal. In addition to being the last state of the USSR to formally leave the USSR, Kazakhstan was also the last of the former soviet states run by its soviet leader. Many Kazakhstanis have no memory of any other president.

The cult of personality around President Nursultan Nazarbayev maybe doesn’t quite compare to Castro or Atatürk, but you don’t have to go far to find buildings and streets named Nazarbayev, or a photo, statue, or painting of the father of the nation.

He announced his decision to step down right before the Nauryz holiday, comparable to making a big announcement on Christmas Eve, when people are too preoccupied with festivities to go out and protest (there were still protests)

In the long term we have no idea what the impacts will be. It is unclear how much power the President is really giving up: he still retains key posts in the government, including head of the dominant political party and chairman of the security council. 

In the near term it meant that I was in Astana in its final days. Because the new president’s first act was to propose renaming Astana “Nur-Sultan,” (everyone is confused by the hyphen) in honor of the outgoing president.

Imagine how long it would take for a proposal like that to work itself through the channels of American democracy. Not in Kazakhstan! The name change was official that weekend.

The weather was slower to change but that did happen too. When I arrived, Astana was bitterly cold and windy. Walking from the street-side sidewalk to my apartment building’s front door meant navigating a literal ice field across the courtyard. But by the days of Nur-Sultan, most of the ice had melted and, with the help of human and machine snow removers, I could walk without fear.

Removing the last of the ice rink

Here are a few miscellaneous memories I’m bringing back from the capital city.

The Opera

The opera house is, like most everything in Astana, a recent creation. In a smaller hall I saw a fun concert in honor of the Welsh National Day and in the main hall, the production of Turandot (live horse on stage!).

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Discovering Tselinograd

Before there was Astana or Nur-Sultan there was Tselinograd. The Kazakhstan capital is so overwhelmingly new and shiny that you might not even realize there is an “old town,” mostly built by the soviets. But I found it and kinda loved it.

 

Remembering My Place

Some days I get grumpy about Kazakhstan. Like when my (American) expectations about what constitutes good customer service have not been met at the grocery store. 

But soon after that happened, I entered a tiny museum in the less touristed part of town (see Tselinograd, above), dedicated to one of Kazakhstan’s greatest literary figures.

A man and his maybe 8-year old son were in the entryway as I was navigating paying for admission with my non-existent Russian. The man asked where I was from. “America,” I said*. He nudged his son and murmured “America.” The boy’s eyes got really wide and his mouth even dropped open a little bit before breaking into a giant smile. The man, his son, and the woman selling tickets all managed to tell me, in very limited English, how impressed they were that an American had shown up on their doorstep. I am keenly aware that not everyone in this world is as happy as all that to see an American on their doorstep. And I felt ashamed of my earlier bad attitude. I am a guest in this country!  I am lucky to be welcomed and should strive to act as polite as when I am a guest in someone’s home. And if I encounter frustrating post-soviet supermarket produce protocol, I need to not grumble at the checkout clerk but remember that I want to live up to all the expectations about America that were in that boy’s excited grin. 

 

More Architecture

 

And Finally…The Pineapple Lamp

Government contracts are funny. In theory, they are a good thing. U.S. Foreign Service should purchase all their furniture from American companies. But sometimes companies that get fat government contracts don’t…try their hardest?

Over and over again I heard about one specifically hideous piece, reviled by all Foreign Service personnel everywhere. But only in my Astana apartment did I finally encounter, in person, the infamous pineapple lamp:

Pineapple Lamp

The least beloved piece in the entire Foreign Service furniture collection

 

*I prefer to say “United States” and not claim two entire continents as my own, but I’ve learned that few understand me when I say that. So “America” it is. Sorry Canada, Mexico, Peru, Brazil, et al!