Well, now we are huddled up together under two wool blankets on a single-size cot at the Hotel Askunur, next to the Almaty International airport, because it is too cold to do otherwise. When we learned we’d have to leave Kostonai early today, we were disappointed, but figured we’d make the best of it by visiting the open-air market in Almaty. It was too cold to go while we were in Kostonai, with temp staying around -25C. So imagine our surprise when we disembarked in Almaty this afternoon to a frosty -17C. Over the last 2 days I’ve learned that when it is this cold out, it hurts your lungs when you breathe through your mouth. You have to breathe through your nose, to give the air a chance to warm up. It does make your nose hurt, but that’s OK.
We celebrated Gotcha Christmas Night with a redux of The Knight’s Castle (erroneously called the King’s Castle in a previous post), and were joined by the Carbaughs, who had just arrived via London & Moscow. I am now using their real name, with permission, and will add again here how very much we enjoy their company. We were all in a stupor, but that didn’t stop us from getting up and dancing when greeted with an unexpected visit from Father Frost (aka, Santa Clause). Though Russian Orthodox Christmas is not til Jan. 7th, Father Frost seems to be more of a New Year emblem here, as do the decorated trees, lights and garlands that festoon Kazakhstan this week. Welcoming the New Year is a big, lengthy deal here, and apparently on New Year’s Eve everyone will dress up in costume and join together in Kostonai’s city square, regardless of the temps. But last night, as part of a major tour to kick-off his annual gift delivery gig on the 31st, Father Frost showed up at the Knights Castle in full regalia, along with a scantily clad female elf. As first order of business, he directed a game of Kazakh Roulette (where several
people choose a shotglass from a tray, and only one is really vodka) before entreating us all to join him on the dance floor. Quickly singling us out as the oddities we were, he tried to get us to sing some American Christmas carols on his microphone, but none of us were drunk enough to oblige him. Instead, we danced with the Kazaks til we nearly dropped (and I've got the video to prove it - to be uploaded when we get home), and then finished off the night with ice cream cubes with chocolate shavings, before plunging back outside for the frosty 5 blocks to our hotel. From start to finish, yesterday was a singular Christmas which I know will never be forgotten by either of us.
As an aside, I would like to note how impressed I am with the division of Christmas and Santa here. It allows Christmas to remain a spiritual holiday for Christians, while allowing folks of all faiths to participate in the gift-giving and merriment. Perhaps this is part of the secret of how Muslims and Russian Orthodox live peacefully, in equal proportions, in this country. I was immediately reminded of my poor mother, and her sad tales of receiving 8-days’ worth of socks and underwear, while her Christian friends made out like bandits on the morning of the 25th. In some circles of our family, it is speculated that this may in fact be the reason that she ultimately married goyim, to spare my sister and I a similar fate (and bless her for it!). Anyway, my point of this paragraph is to propose that it would make a whole lot of sense for all of us, worldwide, to adopt this Santa-New Year’s tradition, and leave Christmas as a quiet and holy birthday party for those who choose to partake. It could be quite unifying.
Both legs of our SCAT flights this trip were on the infamous prop plane, I’m guessing ca. 1960. The aisles were covered with long carpet runners, with occasional patches of the metal floor exposed beneath. The overhead bins were like those on a bus, just open shelves showing wreckless disregard for the fact that contents may shift during take-off and landing. The seats folded down when not in use, and the tray tables were light-weight pieces of tin. Best of all, each announcement by the stewardess on the overhead was preceded by a piercing alarm, which, when jarring you from an exhausted stupor, sounds very much like a siren heralding the planes imminent crash to the icy tundra below.
Despite all that, the flight this morning was actually very peaceful, and so is this chilly, spartan hotel room. As Sal put it, it feels like we’re living in a Jason Bourne movie, and this is one of those quiet, calm moments before the next wanton bloodbath. Or, in our case, this is a quiet moment to bask in the short but joyful visit with beautiful little Aliya – before embarking on another 24-hours of air travel, and facing the crazy month ahead. We’ve got 5 weeks to squeeze in belated holiday visits, baby-proof the house, prepare the remaining paperwork , gather baby items for the 3rd and final trip, and create a happy purple bedroom for our newest peanut. I have not allowed myself to do much prep before, for fear it would jinx things, and now I can’t wait to get to started on it all!
Well, now we are huddled up together under two wool blankets on a single-size cot at the Hotel Askunur, next to the Almaty International airport, because it is too cold to do otherwise. When we learned we’d have to leave Kostonai early today, we were disappointed, but figured we’d make the best of it by visiting the open-air market in Almaty. It was too cold to go while we were in Kostonai, with temp staying around -25C. So imagine our surprise when we disembarked in Almaty this afternoon to a frosty -17C. Over the last 2 days I’ve learned that when it is this cold out, it hurts your lungs when you breathe through your mouth. You have to breathe through your nose, to give the air a chance to warm up. It does make your nose hurt, but that’s OK.
We celebrated Gotcha Christmas Night with a redux of The Knight’s Castle (erroneously called the King’s Castle in a previous post), and were joined by the Carbaughs, who had just arrived via London & Moscow. I am now using their real name, with permission, and will add again here how very much we enjoy their company. We were all in a stupor, but that didn’t stop us from getting up and dancing when greeted with an unexpected visit from Father Frost (aka, Santa Clause). Though Russian Orthodox Christmas is not til Jan. 7th, Father Frost seems to be more of a New Year emblem here, as do the decorated trees, lights and garlands that festoon Kazakhstan this week. Welcoming the New Year is a big, lengthy deal here, and apparently on New Year’s Eve everyone will dress up in costume and join together in Kostonai’s city square, regardless of the temps. But last night, as part of a major tour to kick-off his annual gift delivery gig on the 31st, Father Frost showed up at the Knights Castle in full regalia, along with a scantily clad female elf. As first order of business, he directed a game of Kazakh Roulette (where several 
people choose a shotglass from a tray, and only one is really vodka) before entreating us all to join him on the dance floor. Quickly singling us out as the oddities we were, he tried to get us to sing some American Christmas carols on his microphone, but none of us were drunk enough to oblige him. Instead, we danced with the Kazaks til we nearly dropped (and I've got the video to prove it - to be uploaded when we get home), and then finished off the night with ice cream cubes with chocolate shavings, before plunging back outside for the frosty 5 blocks to our hotel. From start to finish, yesterday was a singular Christmas which I know will never be forgotten by either of us.
As an aside, I would like to note how impressed I am with the division of Christmas and Santa here. It allows Christmas to remain a spiritual holiday for Christians, while allowing folks of all faiths to participate in the gift-giving and merriment. Perhaps this is part of the secret of how Muslims and Russian Orthodox live peacefully, in equal proportions, in this country. I was immediately reminded of my poor mother, and her sad tales of receiving 8-days’ worth of socks and underwear, while her Christian friends made out like bandits on the morning of the 25th. In some circles of our family, it is speculated that this may in fact be the reason that she ultimately married goyim, to spare my sister and I a similar fate (and bless her for it!). Anyway, my point of this paragraph is to propose that it would make a whole lot of sense for all of us, worldwide, to adopt this Santa-New Year’s tradition, and leave Christmas as a quiet and holy birthday party for those who choose to partake. It could be quite unifying.
Both legs of our SCAT flights this trip were on the infamous prop plane, I’m guessing ca. 1960. The aisles were covered with long carpet runners, with occasional patches of the metal floor exposed beneath. The overhead bins were like those on a bus, just open shelves showing wreckless disregard for the fact that contents may shift during take-off and landing. The seats folded down when not in use, and the tray tables were light-weight pieces of tin. Best of all, each announcement by the stewardess on the overhead was preceded by a piercing alarm, which, when jarring you from an exhausted stupor, sounds very much like a siren heralding the planes imminent crash to the icy tundra below.
Despite all that, the flight this morning was actually very peaceful, and so is this chilly, spartan hotel room. As Sal put it, it feels like we’re living in a Jason Bourne movie, and this is one of those quiet, calm moments before the next wanton bloodbath. Or, in our case, this is a quiet moment to bask in the short but joyful visit with beautiful little Aliya – before embarking on another 24-hours of air travel, and facing the crazy month ahead. We’ve got 5 weeks to squeeze in belated holiday visits, baby-proof the house, prepare the remaining paperwork , gather baby items for the 3rd and final trip, and create a happy purple bedroom for our newest peanut. I have not allowed myself to do much prep before, for fear it would jinx things, and now I can’t wait to get to started on it all!
