After a 24 hour train ride from Tashkent, we were back in Almaty, Kazakhstan. This train was the least pleasant that we experienced so far on this trip, mostly due to the conductor, who did not care to keep his carriage tidy but was busy smuggling stuff. All of a sudden he came into our compartment, closed the door and climbed up to the ceiling, opened a hatch and collected about fifteen small guitar-looking instruments. He then blushed, gave us a grin and was out. Considering the smuggling objects, we thought it was funny and were relieved it wasn’t heroine since the border was packed with dogs, working very hard to find drugs.
Next to our hotel there was a closed amusement park. “Nothing ever looks emptier than an empty swimming pool” Raymond Chandler says (one of Joen’s favourite authors). I think the same goes for amusement parks.
It brought back memories from when we visited Pripyat (Chernobyl), a couple of hours outside Kiev, where we celebrated Joen’s 31st birthday.
You could say the same about an abandoned nightclub.
The many concrete blocks are, however, not empty at all. My mother said eons ago that they would be considered beautiful one day. I couldn’t imagine that would be the case, but as always, she was ahead of her time, and right.
Although Almaty is full of concrete, it is also full of trees; I have never seen this many trees in a city before. I don’t think these photos fully represent Almaty’s spirit, but our camera seemed drawn to the concrete for some reason.
There are so many lovely little peculiarities, these details of wood and ornamental iron gives the blocks such a homely feel, a bit like a dacha. By the way, there is a fantastic and very niched blog about Almaty’s little details.
Artsy (propaganda?) concrete.
Almaty is proud of its subway, with about six or seven stops, highly influenced by its Moscovian neighbour, but in Kazakh translation.
One of the very best things about Almaty is that it is surrounded by a magnificent mountain range, just a short bus ride away. We desperately wanted to go hiking, but this is what welcomed us. Twin Peaks rather than Sound of Music.
I have a confession to make, I am not a great admirer of Twin Peaks. The first eight or so episodes were fantastic and quirky in the right kind of way, but then I was lost, it just became too much for my very logical brain to handle. I think the same goes for Bulgakov’s “Master and Margarita”. Please forgive me.