The mosque and masoleum we visited in Turkestan are considered by many to be the holiest sights in Kazakhstan. Naturally, a bride or two came by with their grooms and wedding parties to have their union blessed at this very special place.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Brides, brides, and more brides
The mosque and masoleum we visited in Turkestan are considered by many to be the holiest sights in Kazakhstan. Naturally, a bride or two came by with their grooms and wedding parties to have their union blessed at this very special place.
Crazy train!
This is what we looked like, just 12 hours or so before.
This is what you start to feel like on long, slow train rides.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Our friend and Guide
Our most excellent guide and friend, Sholpan. Thank you for making it such a smooth, wonderful trip. Your country yields up some of the best cauliflower I’ve ever set eyes on! Our amazing friend Sholpan. A learned Kazakh historian and esteemed translator.
In the company of travellers
Our company on board the train. It’s like a little village in these cramped open compartments. These ladies were very friendly and open to our entertaining this little on.
Sasha Our Conductor
Although Sasha seemed a bit slovenly and course in the crew compartment he was all ceremony in his uniform. Prior to this job he served in the Army during Soviet days.
The Busy Markets in Turkestan
A menagerie of colors, sounds and smells. A sea of blues and reds, a chorus of shouting, bargaining and somewhere an open sewer.
Our Host and Room Mate Sasha
Sasha the conductor appeared at first glance a rather hard-bioled character but was instrumental in keeping out the drunk men from wandering into our area at night.
The Train Station at Night
A cross roads of travelers and merchants. The trains here are but a modern twist on a very old enterprise: The Silk Road is alive here with the smells of fresh fruit and coal smoke.
The Train Station on Our Way back
As we left on the 1am train, we all marvelled at this lonely, beatiful train station built during the period of the last Russian Czar in 1891.
Tiled dome on Yasavi’s mausoleum.
Qur'an, Al-Hadid, Surah 57:1-5
All that is in the heavens and on the earth glorifies Allah. He alone is the Almighty, the Cognizant, the Sovereign of the heavens and the earth, who bestows life and ordains death, and has complete power over all things. He is the First and the Last, the Manifest and the Unseen, the One and the Only with the knowledge of all things.
From "The Bounty of Allah," translated by Aneela Khalid Arshed.
Read more: http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Islam/Daily-Quran-Reading.aspx#ixzz1d1z5cxcV
Beautiful Timurid Tile Work
Carrie and Linda at the Mausoleum. The elegant decor, patterned ceiling vaults and colorful majolica tiling inspire the imagination and capture a pattern of cosmology that I venture would rival Notre Dame’s great mandala.
Islamic Architecture from the Timurid Era
The facade of this great mausoleum belies many common features of islamic architecture including the archway on the window and designs on the door. Timur the Lame sought to revive the former glory of the Mongol empire and unite its splintered hordes while recognizing the Caliphate of Baghdad.
Outposts in the Desert
A typical scene along our route to Turkistan. Many of these lonely communities comprise only a handful of such buildings: a corral, an outhouse, a feed bin maybe a shade tree or two and not much more. Notice the beautiful blue trim on the white, adobe house. Despite their isolation, its apparent that local people still proudly adorn their houses with a coat of fresh sky-blue paint, the anthem of the great open steppe.
Turkestan - the Historical Center of the southern Kazakhstan
Turkestan is 1, 500 years old. It was Hodzha Ahmed Yasavi, the poet and Sufi deeply esteemed in the Islamic world that made Turkestan famous. For a long time his verses existed only in oral form being passed from generation to generation by word of mouth. They appeared in written form only a few centuries after the poet’s death.
Known to historians as Yassy and Shavgar, this city was the capital of the Kazakh khanate where great ceremonies of enthronement toоk place; a place where ambassadors of foreign states were sent. The Byzantine Emperor Justinian once sent his emessaries here to pay tribute to the Turkish Kaganate.
The most spectacular of Turkestan’s monuments is devoted to Ahmed Yasavi. It is an architectural complex made of palaces and temples which annually attracts crowds of tourists. Itis worshiped by the Muslim community of Kazakhstan and other Central Asian countries. In ancient times three pilgrimages to this place was equal to one pilgrimage to Mecca.
The entire city centre is an ensemble of historical buildings including the tomb of Robia Sultan Begim, Timur’s granddaughter, the tombs of the Kazakh khans and other representatives of nobility.
UNESCO has included Turkestan (or rather Ahmed Yasavi Mausoleum) in the list of world heritage sites.
Fall Break (This Year’s Theme: Pilgrimage)
If you recall, last year’s October vacation centered around a theme of exile; our trip convened a week of train travel to the northern coast of the Caspian, a tour of Aqtua, and Fort Chevchenko visiting the site of Taras Chevchenko’s exile outpost.
This year’s theme emerged as effortlessly as last year’s once I considered some of the more nascent characteristics of Turkestan, our destination. Located in southern Kazakhstan, close to the Uzbek border, this ancient Silk Road caravan is considered by many to be the holiest site in Kazakhstan. Indeed, the Kazakh’s holiest personage is entombed here in a great mausoleum revealing an Islamic cosmology unique to this central asian nation. This, indeed, was more than just a vacation with my wife and four other teachers. I’d like to think that this was a rare look into the sacred; a history of sufi teachings, Turkic-Mongol empire and the colossal breadth and influence of the Silk road in a region largely forgotten to the world until the latter 20th century.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Second Year in Kazakhstan Begins
When performance curators launched the first human cannon baller, 14 year-old “Zazel,” in 1877 at the Royal Aquarium in London, they had little inkling that six decades later, the invention of jet engine technology would eventually catapult people half-way around the world in less than 24 hours. By day two of being back (We are presently approaching the five-week mark of our second year in Kazakhstan), I felt as if I’d literally traveled here by cannon.
Just over a month ago, on August 18th, we basically said our last goodbyes, hung out on a few planes, took a couple of naps, ate a hot meal or two, and bam… back in the old apartment. By day two, I’d totally forgotten the bill I was so worried about that came just before we left, the taxes we fastidiously worked on amending, and was already thinking about what we should cook for the upcoming week at work and slightly confused by why I had Euros in my wallet (We made a quick stop in Amsterdam during our last layover). Suffice it to say, the miracles of childbirth, the consumption of circus peanuts, and plane travel never cease to amaze me.
We returned to the same school but with several new staff members. Talking with the newbies means having the conversations we had a year ago, except that this time, we are the “experts.” It means that their observations are ways of life that we’ve simply gotten used to, like how so many people you pass on the street here look quite dour. You might smile at a stranger but you will never get one back.
The other day, I was walking with one of my students from the main school building to the one I’m in. He is a very observant young man and suddenly asked me, “Mrs. Kohlmeier, why do you always laugh at everyone you pass?” Of course I replied that I’m not laughing but smiling. And of course he asked why I do that. I explained that I’m just being friendly, to which he retorted, “Oh, we don’t do that here. We only smile at someone if we know them.” I told him that maybe someone is having a bad or lonely day and it might feel good to have someone smile at him or her, but he assured me that it’d make the situation worse, as it would appear that you are laughing at him or her.
I’ve had conversations with others over the past year on this very topic and several locals have said that smiling at a stranger signifies that you are hiding something. There is a definite layer of paranoia that seems to influence interactions here, a paranoia that seems to have intensified upon our return. We’ve learned that if you’ve ever served in the military in another country, it means that you are “in the know” more than your average Joe and you are associated with being spy material. Corryn thinks it’s the old Soviet mentality still at work, as Kazakhstan has only been an independent country since 1991. It’s interesting but annoying at the same time, as it leads to numerous rumors, gossip, and backstabbing.
On a lighter note, our feed-a-stray program has grown. We began feeding a cat near work last year, around March or April. A few weeks later, she adopted a kitten from someone else’s litter and we started feeding her as well. When we returned this August, she’d taken on yet another orphan who was pretty scrawny and runt like. Of course, she too began enjoying the cold milk and kitty food Core packs every morning. Then on the way home one day, we found a very friendly black kitten near our apartment and began feeding him, totaling four.
About a week ago, we were feeding the threesome and heard an intense little mewing sound coming from a nearby tree. We looked up and saw four sets of tiny little eyes on four tiny little kittens that looked like mini-versions of the first cat we’d started feeding in March. Yes, our mama now has six kits, and we are feeding eight mouths! Unfortunately, we haven’t seen the four little ones for a few days, so we’re hoping mama just brought them to a safer location, as she is still nursing. There are no animal shelters or facilities for spaying and neutering, so we do the best to feed the little flock we’ve found.
Overall, school feels busier than last year but we are really enjoying ourselves and spending time with all the people we got to know last year. We've already had the International Brunch for all the families and I've made sushi rolls with my students (one had written a "how to" essay on making sushi rolls). We plan to travel a lot more this year, and are already working our details for upcoming breaks. And I’m still working on my masters, so this year will likely fly by, like a cannon ball out of its shoot.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Even the Cats are Freindly
Taking a moment to appreciate the finer things in life. A village tabby! Note the bricks in the background. This is typicall building material out here as they are quarried from limestone chalk probably a bit further south in the desert. Also, the adobe material is used still quite a bit in the villages I noticed.
Locals on a motorbike with a sidecar
These guys look like they were really enjoying themselves. They seemed exceedingly freindly as they were actaully posing for this shot.
Our Spring Break
Carrie and I took a small day trip to a viallge south of Atyrau and got as far as the pavement would take us. If it was truly mud that stopped the German army from taking Moscow in WWII I now understand why. Watching local village trucks struggling through deeply rutted mud roads after a fresh rain on the steppe give me a greater respect for this place. Living out here fairs in stark contrast to the urban ammenities of a Atyrau. We made our way to a small village on the banks of the Ural river. It was quite, very quiet; just the sounds of gulls and crows feeding on the river, a few rusty boats, a lot of carp washed ashore.
Here, Carrie and I struck a pose with one of those large river tugs you see a lot out here.
Instead of leaving cattle, you should leave a tree.
"Instead of leaving cattle, you should leave a tree.” This catchy Kazakh proverb captures the spirit of spring I think. During Nauryz the entire aul (village) would go to greet the sunrise. From early morning men would then dig irrigation ditches and begin to plant. The women would water the trees. In this tree-starved steppe, I can appreciate the utility of even a single tree. I've often wondered after our trip to Aqtau this past October, how people survived out there with apparently only a handful of trees as shade from the sun in the summer. In this scene, we have a bactrian camel paraded down the street for the festival...another lifeline on the steppe.
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