Wednesday, 9 September 2026

 

Start: Hotel Almaty (KZ) 15:40

Arrival: Hotel Almaty (KZ) 20:40

 

Total: maybe 4 km walking

 

 

Today I did what I said I'd never do again. It was Sonia's idea... well, actually I mentioned it but I didn't really mean it. But let me start at the beginning: Sonia woke up with a raging headache, and me with a really bad throat. We dragged ourselves to the breakfast buffet, which somewhat restored our will to live. Still, I wanted, nay, I needed and demanded, a quiet day in bed. So I lay on the bed, sipping lemonade, sorting through photographs and updating my blog. Then we organised hotels and looked at things to do for the next few days.

 

At 4 pm, I decided that I'd rested long enough. Maybe visit just one thing? Like Kök Töbe, a viewpoint in the south of Almaty. It is supposed to have a great view over the city and the mountains. So we called a YandexGo and off we were.

 

The cabbie drove like a madman and, even worse, refused to turn up the window. Sonia suffered in silence for 25 minutes. Did nothing to help her headache. I have no idea why people say taking a taxi is more comfortable than driving yourself. It definitely is not.

 

Kök Töbe sits 250 metres above Almaty. Cars are only allowed up to a certain point, the rest is done by minibus. I made friends in the bus with a baby Kazakh. He whined, so I engaged his attention with a grin. He grinned back. Friends for life, or at least for the 5-minute busride up the hill.

 

 

I'd had a certain romantic image of Kök Töbe: a quiet, majestic mountain. From up there, the noise and bustle of the great city below could barely be imagined, much less heard. Turn your face south, and yet more mountains rise up before you. One becomes one with the sublime, heavenly mountains beneath and above you, the blue sky the limit. Instead, we stumbled into a noisy funfair.

 

 

Bollywood music blaring from a carousel, Russian pop from a "Dress up as a Kazakh princess or warrior" stand. A ferris wheel competed with noisy mini cars for kids, doner stands vied for customers. A huge screen showing a Harry Potter movie in Russian obscured the view onto the mountains. Walking around the place, we realised that they had barricaded off every possible viewpoint with food stands, billboards or rides. There went my mystic moment. "There's the cable car I told you about", I said to Sonia. "It only takes six minutes down to Almaty. Something I definitely don't want to do."

 

 

At least the view over Almaty was unobstructed. Sonia posed for a picture. I wanted to call this pic: My glow-in-dark sis. It's rather cool, I think.

 

 

Meanwhile, I didn't give up on the idea of getting a snapshot with mountains in the background. A strategic pose, but no, the majestic Tien Shan mountain range is barely visible. Hidden in the cloudy haze (smog?) that hangs over Almaty. Maddening.

 

 

 

In the end, I threw any mystic feelings to the wind and let the unabashed hedonism of this place colour off on me. Or maybe I was just happy that my raspy throat had not mutated into a fullblown Freckecht, as it usually does. In any case, these two pics bear witness to the silly mood I was in.

 

 

Sonia meanwhile provided the more romantic snapshots. I love the colour scheme in this photograph! We walked back up towards the restaurant, debating whether to take the bus back down or to have a drink first. Sonia shortly went off in search for an unobstructed mountainview while I rested on a park bench. Suddenly there was a gurgling scream - the love of my busride had seen and recognized me! We made some gurgling noises at each other and off he went into the sunset, on his mother's arm, never to be seen again. Ah those Kazakh riders, stealing hearts left and right.

 

 

Sonia returned, confirming that there would be no mountain gazing today. Instead, we found a rollercoaster down the mountain and spent some time watching crazy people get on it. It looked almost tempting.

 

 

It was getting late. In half an hour, the sun would be setting. "So: food up here or down there?" Sonia asked. "We could take the cable car down and have dinner at a Coffee Boom", I heard myself say. Sonia looked at me. "Okay." "It's so very high up though", I retreated. "Then let's take the bus." Even after half a century, my sister doesn't understand that "I'm genuinely very afraid of it" does not mean "I won't do it." Before I could change my mind again, I had bought two one-way tickets (6,000 tenge each for a pee-your-pants-and-wish-you'd-never-heard-of-it ride!) "I really don't want to do this", I repeated, totally meaning it, and stepped into the cabin. "And don't forget to film and take pics, no matter how horrible I look!", I added.

 

 

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod", I mumbled, when the cabin left with a jerk and glided so very swiftly towards the abyss. With one hand, I clutched my bag like my life depended on it, with the other, I held on to the not very solid seat. What devil had possessed me? Sonia meanwhile was filming, taking pictures and generally moving around (and making the cabin swing) too much for comfort. "Can you try and look a bit less tense and terrified?" she asked. The following picture is me trying to do just that.

 

 

I have given it the German title: Frau am Rande des Nervenzusammenbruchs.

 

 

"I want to have a picture of me in the gondola as well", Sonia complained. Sorry, no can do. I'm too busy freaking out. Seeing my sister's disappointed face, I pulled myself together. "Hand me the phone", I said, still clutching the headrest. "No, it's okay", she declined. "Give me that phone." I almost moved to grab it. She handed it over. Actually, having a purpose helped take my mind off the gaping abyss below us.

 

 

After six minutes, I was once more on solid ground and had forever earned the bragging rights to the Almaty cable car, as Sonia put it. After the cable-car ride in Tbilisi, I had vowed to never set foot into one of these contraptions ever again. Just goes to show: never say never. While Sonia consulted her map on how to get us to the nearest Coffee Boom, I looked around the area: Novotel, Starbucks and BurgerKing behind me, the tall Kazakhstan hotel in front, the Palace of the Republic to the right and a statue of Abay (yes, him of I-will-read-his-Book-of-Words fame) to the left.

 

Sonia led the way to the nearest subway station, philosophically named after the square next to it: Abay. Also in the vicinity was Almaty University, a cool building looking like straight out of a Sheherazade story. An incredible noise was heard in the trees, there must have been myriads of birds nesting there. Together with about a thousand students, we made our way into the subway station. Why do we always choose metro stations close to unis? They're like ant hills. There were so many people that the guards closed the doors, then let all those waiting in at once, then again closed the door on the newcomers. Which did not really help matters, as it ultimately didn't reduce the number of passengers per train, it just made them crowd into the bag-check hall all at once, instead of a steady trickle.

 

 

The escalators again went impossibly deep into the ground. Then we had to run about half a mile to the train platform. By now my throat was screaming for something to drink. Luckily, all the students seemed to be headed in the opposite direction than us and so we each got a seat. Two stations further on, we got out at the Zhibek Zholy station. This means "Silk Road" in Kazakh, and the station was decorated accordingly. This pic could be named "Yep, I just ran underground for half a mile and lived to tell. Oh, and I did the Almaty cable-car ride. Just saying." A suitable alternative title could be: Happy to sit.

 

 

"How far?" I asked. "Not far at all." That distance is, of course, highly subjective. As it is already half past 11 now and we have to get up early tomorrow morning, here the Cliff's notes version of the rest of the evening: We found the Coffee Boom. With its large open windows, it had a Tbilisi vibe. Ordered shorpa, a delicious Central Asian beef soup. It's actually the same as Arabian/Persian shorba. Different consonant, same yummy food. After that, a stroll through nighttime Almaty. Very southern feel, still warm, many families out and about. Browsed through a bookstore (as so many stores in this part of the world, this one was open 24/7), looking for postcards - again, in vain. Kök Töbe had no postcards either. Email seems to have killed the humble postcard. RIP. Then stroll home. Happy to fall onto the bed. Wrote this blog, Sonia proofread, formatted and uploaded it. Put the alarm for 7 o'clock. Lights out. Night.

 

 

Post scriptum: I seem to remember that this should have been a quiet day in. Didn't really work out that way. Ah well, maybe we'll have one in Bishkek. Or Dushanbe. Or at the latest next November. We'll see. For now: Nighty night.