julian A anderson
Almaty - the dark city
Part three
Most of Kazakhstan is flat, apart from the mountains. That must seem a pretty pointless thing to say but it has a big impact on the weather as I learnt to my cost. My arrival in post-communist Kazakhstan was greeted by a balmy 20°-25°C. As a result, I got into the habit of wearing t-shirts and cotton trousers.
The walk from the hotel to the exhibition ground took about forty minutes. Busses were ridiculously cheap but a bit of a hassle for my route. One particularly warm morning, I stopped at a roadside kiosk to stock up on snacks and noticed that the man had a heavy coat hanging on the door. When I arrived at the exhibition complex, quite a number of the local builders and electricians were similarly attired. The sun was shining. A large display at the entrance to the park proclaimed it to be 24°C and after a long walk, the straps of my rucksack were soaked in sweat. I spent most of the morning waiting for deliveries and changing all the plugs on the video equipment. At lunch time everyone crowded into the few shaded spaces available to escape the blazing sun.
You may have noticed that I have called these articles ‘Almaty: The dark city.’ I am not intending to cast negative aspersions on a fantastic place but describing something that was reasonably common across former communist countries in the early 1990s. I think it was on the third night that I was invited by the British Embassy to a reception. Embassy dos can be fascinating affairs. I recall one at an Austrian Embassy where they served marmite on toast as a delicacy. (honestly) After many long speeches about future cooperation between the UK and Kazakhstan, the event ended at what seemed to be a strangely early hour. (thankfully). I set off for the hotel passing a long queue for the hotel minibuses. Despite the fact that most of my business colleagues would be on expenses, it was not unknown for people to walk and claim the money anyway. I was a little surprised therefore, to see so many waiting, particularly as all the hotels were close by.
The walk to my own hotel was not a long one, but I had barely got halfway when something very unexpected happened. The lights went out. All of them. Every street lamp, every traffic lamp, every light in every building apart, from those of private homes.
It must have been around 2.00pm when I noticed that the air had a distinct chill. All the big delivery doors were open and a thin wind whistled through the building. By 3.00pm it was snowing hard and by 4.00pm my hands were tuning blue. What was the reason for this unexpected change? The prevailing wind had turned from the flat warm desert to the snow covered mountains that separate Kazakhstan from China. In 1991 taxies were a rare sight but you could often find a local willing to offer a lift for a few Tenge. I was picked up by a very friendly man who seemed to know just one phrase in English. As a consequence I discovered the reason why all the cars drove down the middle of every road as my chauffer muttered ‘shit gas’ every time the car spluttered, which was generally when we hit a pothole. In 1991 there were an awful lot of potholes in Almaty roads. By the time we reached my hotel it was minus 9°C and as I entered the lobby in summer clothing, the porter regarded me with deep suspicion. Clearly he thought I was barking mad.
Not quite as dark as this
I was aware that the street lights were turned off at night but had been assured by the hotel that they would stay on for the duration of the exhibition. The municipal heating had been turned on for the same reason.
As I grew up in a small village, I was used to the dark but a city without lights is a strange and unnerving thing. The streets were empty, empty of people, empty of cars, empty of noise and empty of light. This was a capital city devoid of everything that makes a city…well a city. The walk turned into a long, slow crawl, lit by the stars and little else. At least two falls later, as I entered the hotel I met the same disapproving porter. Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in midnight etc.
In the next instalment, I will discuss a visit to an ice rink on a mountain and a ride on an airport luggage travellator.