Friday, 4 September 2026

 

Start: Hotel Astana (KZ) 17:00

Arrival: Hotel Astana (KZ) 20:00

 

Total: ca 5 km walking

 

 

Of course we didn't just spend the day at the hotel. After I had updated my blog (and what a tour de force that had been!), we felt restless to get some fresh air into our lungs. Sonia meanwhile had mutated into a living tourist magazine of Astana. She knew where to go, the legends of the place and, most importantly, where to get the best food.

 

 

As it was already five in the afternoon, the idea was to see a bit of the town centre, walk to the river, get dinner and call it a day. The streets in Astana are pedestrian-friendly and efficient: not only can you walk straight across a street, they even painted in the option to cross it in a 45 degree angle. Neat! A five-minute walk took us to the promenade that leads to the river Ishim. Metal statues line the way. We found a funny one of the boys from Liverpool and I posed for a photo. Is Paul really that tall? I think they made them slightly larger than life.

 

 

If you cannot answer the question: "What is sold every five metres (no hyperbole!) in Astana?" you have not really been to this city. Ice cream stands abound. Most of them promise soft ice in two flavours: vanilla and chocolate, mixed. Our favourite sort. Then, when you order it, the answer unvariably is: sorry, only vanilla available. Or: we have strawberry instead of chocolate. We only saw one person actually eating a vanilla-chocolate mix, and that was after I had caved and paid for a plain old vanilla one. It's maddening. Distressing. It makes you question your life choices.

 

 

Just before reaching the river, we passed a cute open air restaurant called Ali Baba. It served traditional Central Asian food and had excellent reviews on Google. Unless we saw something even better along the way, this would be our dinner place for tonight.

 

The promenade was lively with street musicians, street karaoke, a childrens' playground and souvenir stands. A large statue of Kenesary Khan marks the area where the Ishim River makes a sharp bend to the south. He was the grand-son of Abilay Khan (remember his memorial stele in Burabay National Park yesterday?). The last ruler of the Kazakh Khanate, Kenesary Khan fought to preserve his people's independence from Russia. He ultimately failed and his severed head was allegedly sent to the tsar in 1847.

 

 

The river promenade leads to the pedestrian Atyrau bridge. With a bit of imagination, one can recognize the form of the bridge as a sturgeon. This makes sense (sort of), as the Atyrau region of Kazakhstan is a famous centre of sturgeon farming.

 

 

We had planned on walking just as far as the bridge, but as the weather was great and the day still young, we decided to loop across the bridge into the funpark on the other side of the river and from there back to the Kenesary Khan monument.

 

 

The rides, mostly for children, were nestled inside a park full of trees and, unfortunately, midges too. Millions of them. Every breath you took, there was a very real chance of inhaling several of the tiny creatures as well. Nevertheless, the park was pleasant with lots of interesting little places to see, and when we emerged on the other side, the sun was already setting over the buildings in the west. The vista reminded me of Doha. Only thing missing were the palm trees.

 

By now I was really hungry and eager to sit down. Not far from here was an establishment by the name of "Gaststätte", serving German food. A safe bet? I know my friend Bobby would have chosen it. ;) In the end, we decided to walk the 15 minutes to our first choice, the Ali Baba, after all. It had looked so oriental and romantic.

 

 

We flopped down into two comfy chairs. A young girl brought us the Kazakh/Russian menu and said something in, presumably, Russian. I looked at her, trying to guess what she might have said. Judging from the intonation, it had been a question. She repeated her sentences, in an even lower tone. "Medlenno, pozhaluysta", I begged, racking my brain for the Russian translation of "louder". Gromche, of course. I've known that word for more than 15 years, but couldn't for the life of me think of it now. Both the waitress and I experienced a very stressful 10 seconds, than she made an about-turn and left. Feeling bad for her, we studied the menu, trying to figure out where the main courses were listed. Maybe I should have simply blurted out "Dva shashlyk s kartofel fri." It would have gotten us fed at least.

 

 

Another waitress appeared, just as young and petite and soft-spoken. Maybe they were sisters? She spoke English and offered to explain the menu to us, even showing us pictures of dishes. That was almost a bit too much customer service. We quickly decided on some plov, homemade lemonade and a basket of bread that she recommended. The food was plentiful and delicious, and the bread turned out to be piping hot fried buns, very similar to Sonia's beloved Fueskichelcher! What a wonderful discovery. They are called baursaq and will definitely be ordered again on this trip.

 

When we walked back to the hotel, it was already dark and all the lights were on. I love strolling through a foreign city by night. The atmosphere is much more intimate than in harsh daylight. A lot of people were out on an evening stroll, park benches were occupied by young couples cuddling up and the air smelled fresh and cool. One hasn't truly seen a city until one has experienced it after nightfall.