My first impression of the city of Almaty was the presence of the mountains. When I rode home from the airport the first morning, I was exhausted and too overwhelmed to respond to my host sister’s questions with anything other than да (yes) and хорошо (good). For the entire ride, I gazed out the taxi window at the rocky giants that surrounded us. The sun rose and cast shadows on the peaks, highlighting their ridges and concavities. The difference between living in Minnesota, where the highest elevation is only about 2,301 ft, and being surrounded by the Zailiyskiy Alatau mountain range is striking, to say the least.
The presence of the mountains grounds the city, as if it were meant to be built here. It is as if the mountains guard and cradle it. Simultaneously, the vastness of the mountains makes me feel small. In the same way that the vast starry sky reminds me of my relative insignificance back home in Minnesota, the mountains invoke a similar feeling here. Although it seems quite bleak at first, the feeling that the stars and the mountains evoke is comforting and awe inspiring.
On our first of many walks around Almaty, our tour guide, Azhar, explained to us that rather than using cardinal directions most people that live in Almaty used the slant of the city to give directions. The Southern side of the city, that is closer to the mountains, is at a higher elevation than the Northern side, which gives the city a perpetual slope. This slant means that “up” equates to South, and “down” equates to North. Each morning on my bus route, I notice the slope down towards the university and each afternoon, the bus climbs back up towards my home and I can watch the mountains on the horizon.
Almaty isn’t just a city near the mountains, the mountains are a crucial aspect of daily life. Next to every sidewalk, is a miniature concrete canal. At first glance, these canals seem like a collection of squirrel-sized waterslides mapping across the whole city. Their real purpose is to allow non-disruptive drainage of water down the slope of the city. Currently, they are only collecting silt and cigarette butts, but when the snow up in the mountains begins to melt, these waterslides will be complete with rushing water.
The river, Esentai, that runs through Almaty has also looked pitiful these past few weeks. Near our university, it is reinforced with concrete and gives an industrial impression, especially as there has been no water to fill the channel. The channel itself seems to be waiting for the water. A physical manifestation of anticipation. Seeing its dry concrete bottom makes me want to sit on the bank and wait for the water to flow. Almost in the way that I wait for my morning bus. Any day now the water will come down from the mountain. I am awaiting the day when the river is full.
Until the water makes its way down to the city, we must meet it up in the mountains. During our first weekend in the city, we explored the highest altitude ice rink in the world, Medeo, and rode gondolas up to the Shymbulak ski resort. Shymbulak, specifically, seemed to be half a ski resort and half a little mountain town. When we visited, pop music blasted from hidden speakers and we ordered lunch. The view as we sat outside eating was incredible. We were able to see a beautiful glacier wedged between two peaks. For me, this was very special because I know that Earth’s glaciers are melting away at exceeding rates due to climate change. For a while, I have wanted to see a glacier in person and it was such a cool surprise to see one that day. Above us loomed mountain peaks and ski lifts, while the entirety of Almaty stood below us. Even though the majority of us didn’t even ski, I felt like the day trip had been more than worth it.
Back in the city, the flow of water is a wonderful analogy for the movement of people around the city. People flood on and off buses, taxis, and trolley buses. The city is very walkable. Folks meander down the streets and flow through underground tunnels made for crossing busier streets. In the tunnels, there are speakers and sometimes murals that make the passage beneath the road feel like a portal to another world. They feel uncannily similar to the little canals running along the sidewalk. Both allow for natural movement through a modern city.
The way the city of Almaty acknowledges its natural surroundings is special. As we read in Dombrovsky’s The Keeper of Antiquities, the connection between nature and the city is visible all around. The city has grown quite a bit since the 1960’s when Dombrovsky’s book was published. We have found that the orchards Dombrovsky wrote about are almost all gone and the city air is often heavy with smog. Still, more than 50 years after Dombrovsky’s story was written, nature remains at the heart of Almaty’s identity.
