June 19, 2012

I had told Valerie I’d be leaving the apartment early to make it to Kok-Tobe and the art museum on my last day of sightseeing. After making coffee, I connected to the Internet only to find a message from my sister informing me that my father had passed away. I’ll write a separate entry on this blog about my feelings regarding his death. I sent the appropriate condolence messages to both my sister and brother in Puerto Rico and took a shower. When I came out of the bathroom, Valerie was up and seemed impatient indicating she thought I’d be gone by the time she got up and now she was running late even though her cell phone alarm started going off at 8:00am. I told her the news about my father, and she only asked if I had been close to him. No condolences were expressed.

We left the apartment together and I set out to the Kok-Tobe site only to find out it was closed until 3:00pm and I couldn’t understand why. It was a beautiful morning albeit warmer than I’d have liked for walking around; nonetheless, I set out for the Monument of the Republic, the much publicized statue of an armored man atop a snow leopard and got hopelessly lost was I was looking for the Hyatt Hotel as the landmark to turn right and never came across it. Instead, I stopped at a small, tidy and antiseptic looking supermarket where I purchased a couple pieces of pastry, flat bread and more water as the bottle I was carrying was almost empty already.

It took me forever to find the monuments, even longer to locate the art museum where a French exhibit was taking place. The clerk wanted to charge me 1500.00 tenge and I argued, in English of course, that it seemed a bit steep since I knew the locals weren’t paying that price, and the woman relented and let me pay 500.00 instead. It was a huge relief to be inside an air conditioned building and I contemplated staying there for the rest of the day if only I could find a quiet corner where to take a snooze. That was not to be the case as every room was being supervised by some old woman and no benches to just sit around as instead they had been fashioned as listening stations for museum patrons to listen to French music, opera or classical compositions. The exhibit in question didn’t contain any pieces by big name French artists, except for a couple of sculptures by Degas and some photographs by Henri Bretton-Cartier.

I took two buses to get to the Kok-Tobe place to be as highly disappointed with it as with everything in Almaty. A shuttle took me from the base of the mountain to the top where a complex of restaurants, zoo, amusement park and souvenir stands were waiting. The viewing platform stood in the direct sunlight and the view in itself was clouded by smog all over the city. It looked just like Los Angeles on a good day and not really worth the trouble on a really scorching day. I ordered a glass of beer and found a table in the shade to drink it while watching families with small children parade by on their way to the different tourist traps available to get hold of their cash. I walked around the souvenir stalls proffering the usual kitschy mix of key chains, magnets, dolls and pseudo ethnic clothing, but not the spoon James would like me to find for him.

There was nothing left to do there as not even a cooling breeze could be felt and I went back down to the city and to the apartment where Valerie was sconced in one of the easy chairs going over her TOEFL preparation book. The windows were open letting in the hot air and bright sunshine I was just trying to escape from not to mention the infernal sound of traffic coming from the street. She didn’t seem interested in what I had done, but I politely asked about her day and she mentioned having gone to the U. S. consulate for some unknown reason and then to her university. As much as I wanted to go online to check on email again, Valerie told me her plug had stopped working and she would be going out to replace it. I asked her to bring me one as well so I could charge my laptop overnight and have it available at the airport. She never offered to let me get online again.

We set out for the Korean restaurant I had found on the Lonely Planet guide and after another long, sweaty and tiresome ride in another bus with no A/C, we got to this grocery store, walked past it to find a warren of rooms and were directed to the biggest one where a flat screen TV was shouting at no one. We were the only customers at the time and I selected another room while asking the waitress to please turn down the volume so we could talk. Valerie indicated she was familiar with most Korean dishes as she grew up in a neighborhood outside Atlanta with many Korean stores and restaurants and so I let her order soup for me and three other dishes including kim chi. My soup was hardly edible and three other dishes were apparently for Valerie only as she didn’t even offer to share them. I picked at the kim chi and took two pieces of beef, wrapped it in lettuce leaves and drank my apple juice. When the bill came, close to 5000.00 tenge, I offered to pay the whole thing to get the meal over with. Valerie had her leftovers packed to take home and I offered to pay for a taxi as I could not stand the idea of riding another bus and it was close to ten o’clock anyway.

I packed my things, had Valerie called Danielle, who knew how to secure a taxi ahead of time, and drifted to sleep until the A/C was turned off again.