Secrets of the Steppe I - A lot of Paperwork and a Visit from the Pope
By Eve Mayes
(Photograph taken by the author)
Year Abroad student Eve Mayes shares with us the weird and the wonderful of Astana, Kazakhstan, painting a picture of Central Asia that evades Western preconceptions of the area. In her first instalment, we learn about her journey there, and her initial impressions of the bustling streets, endless offices, and a humdrum of cosmopolitan life that, in its similarity to her life near London, has taken the edge off the culture-shock.
If I, along with the majority of my cohort of third year Russianists, had been told this time last year that my year abroad plans wouldn’t involve the word “Moscow”, let alone “Russia”, I would have laughed. If the word “Kazakhstan” had been brought up, I am certain I would not only have looked confused but also, quite frankly, terrified. This time last year, my worldview was afflicted with what a friend recently titled “the malaise of the -stans”; I knew nothing about Central Asia, and pictured something along the lines of steppe plains, yurts and horses-as-transport. Yet here I am, sat in the well-stocked library of an established university, at the edge of a rapidly developing metropolis. I now find it hard to believe that, until March, I had only heard about this country in my teenage brother’s references to Borat.
Aware that I’ve promised you a modern view of the country, I unfortunately have to reveal that Kazakhstan has not yet fully escaped the bureaucratic structures of its Soviet past. In fact, being as novel a destination to the University of Cambridge as it was to me, the paperwork to get here hit quite a few snags. Obviously, this didn’t initially do much other than reinforce my association of Kazakhstan with all things twentieth-century. On paper, yes, everything here is to the letter. I’ve found some peace, though, in the fact that under the surface, this culture is about as accustomed to strict planning as I am to agreeing to a 9am supervision. This became very clear when, arriving at Heathrow, I was met with the pleasant surprise of an added stop-over in Aktau on what was meant to be my direct flight to Almaty. Upon recounting this to my course coordinator, I was met with a simple, chirpy “Welcome to Central Asia!”, which I vaguely translated to “please, just chill out a bit”. This somewhat prepared me for the moment when, five minutes away from landing in Nur-Sultan (now re-re-named Astana), all I could see was empty steppe. But, now expecting the unexpected, I waited, and relaxed a bit as the towering skyline of my new home appeared, dragging this desert-land, and myself, into our respective futures.
The first few days of this future were mind- blowing. I had done my research in advance and knew by now that I was not going to be living in a tiny village in the desert. Regardless, I could never have expected what greeted me. The scale of everything here is immense. Having grown accustomed to Cambridge’s narrow, cobbled passages and charming (but aged) buildings, the width of the streets, height of the skyscrapers and sheer size of the metropolis were mind-blowing. Not only this, but almost every piece of architecture has a claim to a famous designer: from a five-story shopping mall by Norman Foster to a central concert hall by Manfredi Nicoletti - this city has it all.
As a planned city that has only really come to exist over the past 30 years, Astana has a bit of a reputation within Kazakhstan of being “soulless”. I simply cannot agree. With towers inspired by national mythology to office buildings inspired by the aurora borealis, Astana encapsulates the soul of modern life on a global scale, whilst appreciating historical- cultural influence, such that one ‘niche’ can’t be specified: to me, this makes it one of the most soul-filled cities I’ve seen.
Perhaps one of the most significant buildings made itself obvious to me very early on in my stay. During the first week I spent here, Astana happened to be hosting the “7th World Congress of Leaders of World and Traditional Religions” in its Palace of Peace and Reconciliation. This meeting came to life in 2003 in the wake of the tragic events of 9/11 and at which, a couple of weeks ago in Astana, the Pope, Grand Imam of Al-Amharic Ahmed El-Tayyeb, Israel Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi David Lau and representatives from the Russian Orthodox Church sat together to promote peace and dialogue between religions, cultures and civilisations. (Here I’ll quickly let you in on the local rumours that the Pope stayed at the Ritz). Returning to the Palace, this huge Louvre-esque glass pyramid is no exception to Astana’s architectural prestige, and boasts a gorgeous stained-glass apex by Brian Clarke. More important than its flashy, futuristic exterior, though, are the cultural values that this centre embodies. Built as a permanent home for the Congress, and its ideals of peace, co-existence and social development (based on spiritual ideals), this building opened my eyes to a very different country to the one I was expecting.
Last year, when I thought Kazakhstan was a desert with a pretty flag, whose population was essentially limited to Sacha Baron Cohen and his film-crew, I am ashamed to say that I subconsciously assumed I would encounter social-backwardness and a propensity for unrest. I can say with certainty that I could not have been more wrong. In fact, this society is incredibly peace-loving, and, having now moved in with a local host family, I can confirm that the layman is just as welcoming and accepting as the religious-leaders who participated in the Congress. I have been fed beshbarmak and lagman to my heart’s content, been taken to the ballet to experience the thrills of local culture and been hugged so tightly by my host mother that I could barely breathe. She’s also still pretty determined to marry me off to her son, but that’s a story for another day.
If these first weeks are anything to go by, I am certain I will only love Kazakhstan more as my time progresses.