A Comment on “Restoration of the Soul” by Lilya Kalaus
Recently, Ezra and I had the opportunity to visit the Ascension Cathedral, also known as the Zenkov Cathedral, located in Panfilov Park. Even as we first approached the cathedral, we were struck by its magnificent colors and intricate details as the great wooden structure emerged from the trees. Through “Restoration of the Soul”, Lilya Kalaus provided us with more context on the cathedral itself, with a focus on its renovation. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to be acquainted with the Cathedral before the renovation as the author of “Restoration of the Soul” had, so I am unable to speak on those differences there. However, the new coat of paint gave the cathedral a new and certainly vibrant look, enhancing its stunning appearance.
Lilya also discussed the Cathedral’s surrounding area, which resonated greatly with me. Soon after arriving, we circled the edge of the cathedral to take it in from all sides, and immediately we found ourselves in a bustling square. There were vendors, many kids riding all sorts of vehicles including mini sports cars, and hundreds of pigeons. At one point, Ezra and I had the unforgettable opportunity of being swarmed by these pigeons, all fighting to get some of our dried corn (This experience is more thoroughly described in our discussion of the second story of the book).
Both the Cathedral and its park both complement themselves in what becomes a perfect microcosm of the incredible energy, beauty, and unique character that makes up the city of Almaty
Comment on “Ascension Cathedral” by Aliya Dzhirman
The first time I wandered into the square to the north of Ascension Cathedral, I was on my way home from a long walk around the city. Though I found the scene that greeted me intriguing and unusual, I stopped only long enough to film a short video with my phone before hurrying on to the bus stop so I could make it home for dinner. The second and third times I returned were even more striking, as they showed me that what I saw the first time wasn’t some kind of special event, but that more or less every day the square is occupied by a mob of plump pigeons energetically gobbling up grain fed to them by people who purchase it from the vendors around the edge of the square, all while constantly dodging out of the way of the miniature electric cars that Kazakh toddlers drive in circles through the flock.
On Saturday I tried feeding the pigeons myself in order to get them to land on me, an activity that would be considered only slightly more acceptable than feeding rats in America*. I bought three entire bags of grain due to my lack of small change, and upon opening the first one Charlie and I were immediately swarmed by pigeons, which landed all over our arms, hands, shoulders, and even on top of my head. Their touch was surprisingly light as they pecked at the grain and jostled each other for better spots. All three bags were eaten up in a few minutes and the pigeons returned to the swirling mob on the ground in search of more food. Like the author describes, the pigeons are fat, lazy, numerous, and subsist entirely food people give them for reasons that still remain unclear to me.
On Sunday, along a path leading from the square to the front of the cathedral, a handful of adults sat on the curb, from whom passersby tried to avert their gazes. A small child carrying an empty plastic can emerged from their number approached us as we walked, and although I didn’t understand what he was saying I assume he was asking for money. As we walked away my thoughts were drawn to the contrast the author had drawn between these people and the pigeons, both in search of gifts from passersby, but one group clearly finding the pasture greener.
*Another striking illustration of Kazakhstan’s attitude toward pigeons is the weekly market where men who breed pigeons as a hobby sell them to each other
Comment on “A story of the troubled Sayran lake…” By Sergey Alexeyonok
Sayran lake is a seasonally filled reservoir in the northwest part of Almaty, fed by a river originating in the nearby mountains, delineated on one side by a dam that carries Tole Bi Street and on the others by acres of park and a small artificial beach. The first thing I noticed upon approaching Sayran was not the lake itself but rather the view of the city, which was unlike that from any other vantage point I had visited so far. The skyline finally appeared distant in a way it didn’t when viewed from the mountains visible in the background. Though there was no water in the lake, which is only filled during the summer, I understood what the author of “troubled Sayran lake” meant when he described how the lake felt like an endless sea in his late Soviet childhood. The character of Sayran as a quiet escape from the noise and crowdedness of the city seemed to have carried through time.
The sand of the beach transitioned into a vast mire of dry mud which stretched out before me, its undulating surface crisscrossed by tire tracks and pockmarked by occasional pools of silty water. In the distance, almost at the other side of the lake, I could make out what appeared to be excavators working. As I progressed along the lakeshore the seemingly random topography of the lakebed resolved itself into a series of regular ditches and ridges, apparently dug by said excavators. A few minutes of online research confirmed that the lakebed was undergoing “cleaning” of silt, reeds, and garbage at the time. While there was no shortage of garbage in the part of the lakebed I walked across, strewn with cigarette butts and tires, it seemed like a vast improvement over how the author described the lake in the immediate post-Soviet period, polluted to the point where swimming was prohibited and it was eventually judged not worth it to let the reservoir fill. Though there were still no swimming signs along some parts of the lakeshore, the aforementioned period seemed to have vanished without a trace. The colorful metal umbrellas on the beach as well as the paths and benches in the park were in good repair and the latter were far from deserted, though there was as much litter as anywhere in Almaty and our guide informed us that it was considered a high-crime area by local standards (in general Almaty is very safe).
-Ezra and Charlie
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