Almaty, Kazakhstan, Dressed in Resplendent Concrete

The first stop on our whirlwind tour of Central Asia was Kazakhstan’s former capital, Almaty.  It remains the largest city in the country, as well as its cultural epicenter.  My knowledge of the city was somewhat lacking (aside, that is, from my standard furious pre-trip googling and wiki-ing), and the city threw me through a loop.  Not because of culture shock – actually, it was quite the opposite.  Almaty was strange to me because of how cosmopolitan, ostentatious, and developed it was, thanks in large part to the Central Asian (primarily Kazakh) oil boom.

The development of Almaty didn’t prove to be a huge turnoff, though.  Instead, it served as a smooth entry to Central Asia, as the trip got more and more off the beaten path as we ventured south into Kyrgyzstan, past Bishkek and Osh, eventually to the base of Peak Lenin.  What we loved most about Almaty, though, was the spectacular range of architecture in the city – nearly all Russian inspired, but doused heavily with Kazakh traditional flair.

Concrete is ubiquitous across the Post-Soviet world, but Almaty’s commitment to the material really reaches new heights of devotion.  We were fortunate enough to go on two walks with Dennis Keen, also known as Kazakhstan’s most famous Californian resident, who guided us around the less ostentatious examples of concrete architecture in the city.

As an architecture hobbyist (rather than an expert), I never really bothered to learn the foundations of Soviet architecture and design.  I have vague ideas of the differences between Brutalism, Constructivism, and Russian Neoclassicism, but would be hard pressed to explain the differences.  

That said, it was a real treat to walk the less-trodden streets of Almaty, and learn from a real expert (an English-Russian-Kazakh speaker, at that!) about the way the city’s history, geography, and politics are reflected in the styles in which residential buildings were constructed.  This was some hardcore nerdy shit for sure, and I couldn’t imagine a better introduction to Central Asia. Though let me say, an 8am walking tour after arriving to the city at 1am the night before, following 20 hours of travel may not be the best way to surprise and delight your travel partners.

The biggest shifts in architectural styles came to modern, urban Almaty (again, we’ll talk about yurts later) in times of tumultuous transition, mostly concurrent with major political changes.  The first of these shifts came during the Stalinization and Sovietization of Kazakhstan, when traditional folk architecture (think, traditional wooden, single story homes – more Russian and Cossack than Kazakh) gave way to traditional Stalinist, Neoclassical buildings reminiscent of those seen in Moscow and St. Petersburg.  The second transition came with the death of Stalin and Khrushchev’s inauguration in the late 1950’s, when party emphasis was placed on ease of construction and prefabrication of hulking apartment blocks, rather than the ornate adornment of Stalinist structures.  During the Krushchev era also came the Krushchyovka – the name of the apartment blocks so ubiquitous* across the former Soviet realm of influence.  Buildings of these three styles coexist in relative peace in Almaty, much like the populations of Koreans, Russians, Kazakhs, Uzbeks, Uighurs, and other ethnic groups, all living side by side.

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The walk we took with Dennis on that first day enabled mine and Almaty’s love story.  Seeing traditional apartment blocks, next to more prototypical Siberian/steppe wooden houses, and having the styles explained to us gave me insight into the city’s complicated history and multi-ethnic makeup that I wouldn’t have had without someone figuratively holding my hand.  It also gave us the opportunity to get outside of the city center, away from the Green Market and Zenkov Cathedral, where tourists mostly congregate.  It took us away from the oil money and shiny new buildings, as well as away from the McDonalds’ and the Zara.  It took us into the dvor, or inner courtyards, of countless apartment blocks – all prefabricated, but somehow each with their own special sumpin’ sumpin’.

Almaty was full of the more obvious concrete attractions – there was a fantastic Circus and Palace of Weddings.  The hotels named for Alma-Ata and Kazakhstan were particularly grandiose.  But the everyday concrete, interspersed between everyday markets, shops, vendors, schools, canals, and parks was what left the greater impression. It was in this everyday, functional, and completely lived-in architecture that made me fantasize about packing up my husband and dogs and starting fresh in Kazakhstan’s southern capital.

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We took two walking tours with Dennis Keen, founder of Walking Almaty, during our time in the city.  The one primarily referenced in this post is not offered regularly anymore, but the other we took (“Urban Village”) was wonderful as well.  If you walk with him and are interested in Soviet architecture, I’m certain he’d be more than happy to talk your ear off about different architectural and urban design elements found throughout the city.  To get more information about Dennis and his tours, check out his website, and see his enviable collection of five star reviews on Tripadvisor.

 

*(I used the word “ubiquitous” twice in this post.  Feeling self-satisfied.)