Ascension Cathedral
The presence of the pigeons was quite apparent as we approached the cathedral on Friday afternoon. They meandered around the square in front of the cathedral as if they themselves were admiring its opulent presence. The bright pastel color on the enormous cathedral and the steady stream of onlookers, both human and avian, made the place feel serene and timeless. The short story about the Ascension Cathedral in the Illustrated Guide to Almaty, paints a dimmer picture of the scene. It contrasts the fat pigeons collecting scraps with the beggars who wait by the cathedral for coins. When we visited, there were no such people outside the cathedral. The following Sunday on our Dombrovsky tour, however, we were stopped by young children asking for money. We watched them meander through the crowd back to their relatives who sat on the curb in front of the cathedral. The cathedral’s beauty is not mentioned in the scene from the book. Perhaps the cathedral itself is inconsequential when compared to the living beings that frequent it. Sitting on the steps of the cathedral and looking out at the square, it was interesting to wonder where human empathy lies when we rush to buy corn in order to feed the pigeons, but turn away the people in need.
Instrument Museum
After standing in near silence in the cathedral, listening to orthodox chanting, then feeding the most extroverted pigeons right from our hands, the Museum of Musical Instruments was a relaxing, yet striking, transition back to the real world. However, it is not the real world of Almaty. It is physically and architecturally set apart from the city. The log cabin-esque façade creates a second universe inside of the bustling streets of Almaty. Paired with its stunning collection of Kazakh and other Eastern dombras, jaw harps, and accordions, the museum takes us back in time, when (admittedly pessimistic) Soviet architecture didn’t penetrate, or define, Almaty’s cultural innovation. I am taken back to a time in which auls, nomads, and bais defined the steppe. We had previously only read academic texts of these times, however I now can’t help but think about a summer camp counselor playing a dombra around a campfire roasting marshmallows (or horsemeat in this dream?). The darkly lit museum in which we wandered and listened to recordings of flutes, and banjos, and bagpipes provides an escape from the ordered chaos that Almaty cannot seem to escape. It brings us back to a time, or places us in a new time, without Dombrovsky, without taxis, and without modernity.
Afghanistan War Monument
When looking for the monument to the Afghan soldiers, we found a massive war monument. At first, we thought that it was the war monument we were looking for, but it was actually a triumphant WWII monument. The actual monument set farther back in the courtyard does show soldiers mourning, but the attention in the square is on the massive presence of the WWII monument. The soldiers in the WWII monument are larger than life and are charging, unified, out of the rock, whereas, the soldiers on the Afghan monument appear to be in mourning. One man sits at the feet of the others. Reading the piece next to this statue in the shadow of the WWII monument, seems to show the relative importance of the wars in public life. Victory is remembered before tragedy.
Next to the monuments lies a forever burning flame marking the eternity of the victory in the Great Patriotic War, as well as the Soviet dream. In the context of WWII, this representation makes perfect sense, however in the presence of the Afghanistan monument, it makes us wonder what this dream is and how it degraded over the course of the 20th century. The great pride taken in the WWII monument strikingly contrasts with the lament shown in the monument to those who were lost in Afghanistan.
