Not all pretty landscapes

The OSCE has expressed concern about human rights activist Yevgenii Zhovtis, after visiting him in the detention centre where he is held outside Almaty. Kazakhstan is chairing OSCE from 2010, but apparently the organization is less than convinced that the country is able to give its own dissidents a fair trial.

“We already conveyed our concerns to the Kazakh government about reports of numerous violations of Zhovtis’ right to a fair trial in the run-up to his conviction,” says first deputy director of the OSCE Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights, Douglas Wake, in this press relase.

“We already conveyed our concerns to the Kazakh government about reports of numerous violations of Zhovtis’ right to a fair trial in the run-up to his conviction,” says first deputy director of the OSCE Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights, Douglas Wake, in this press relase.

“While we are not suggesting that Zhovtis should receive any special treatment, it is essential that fair trial standards are fully respected during the appeals process, in line with national legislation, OSCE commitments and Kazakhstan’s other international obligations,” he says.

Zhovtis was recently sentenced to four years in jail for manslaughter after a car accident which took the life of a young man. His supporters claim that the trial was ”politically motivated” and did not give him a fair proceeding, but rather meted out “punishment for his 20 years of human-rights work”, according to the Economist.

The trial did not meet basic fair trial standards, claims  Human Rights Watch, who describes it as a “choreographed political trial” and “a terrible blow for everyone promoting human rightsin Kazakhstan”. This shows, according to Central Asia researcher Andrea Berg at Human Rights Watch, that Kazakhstan clearly is not ready to take on the OSCE chairmanship in 2010.

Also check out this assessment of the human rights situation in Kazakhstan, written by Human Rights Watch four months back, and a call for a strengthening of human rights in Kazakhstan by the Almaty Hensinki Committee.

Charyn canyon

Charyn canyon

Just a quick photo update this time, from Charyn canyon, about 200 kilometers east of Almaty and a popular trekking spot. The Charyn River is running through the Valley of the castles, with Grand canyon-style rock sculptures, good climbs and a guardsman with the lamest excuse ever for overcharging us (“You see, I was drunk yesterday when I told you didn’t have to pay”).

It also had some surprises in store. I discovered that when I suddenly became stuck on a ledge, with no way to go but four or five meters horizontally downwards and my arm still bandaged.

(Yes, I know. But I wasn’t really climbing, just walking, and it suddenly became very steep. So steep, in fact, that I couldn’t go back.)

As I tore of my bandage, grabbed what holds I could find and tried not to apply to much pressure on the broken parts of my hand, it started raining and everything beame slippery. I was saved only by my own badassery and, perhaps even more important, my steady climbing companion, Christian.

Anyway. Nice canyon. See for yourself.

Just a quick photo update this time, from Charyn canyon, about 200 kilometers east of Almaty and a popular trekking spot. The Charyn River is running through the Valley of the castles, with Grand canyon-style rock sculptures, good climbs and a guardsman with the lamest excuse ever for overcharging us (“You see, I was drunk yesterday when I told you didn’t have to pay”).

It also had some surprises in store. I discovered that when I suddenly became stuck on a ledge, with no way to go but four or five meters horizontally downwards and my arm still bandaged.

(Yes, I know. But I wasn’t really climbing, just walking, and it suddenly became very steep. So steep, in fact, that I couldn’t go back.)

As I tore of my bandage, grabbed what holds I could find and tried not to apply to much pressure on the broken parts of my hand, it started raining and everything beame slippery. I was saved only by my own badassery and, perhaps even more important, my steady climbing companion, Christian.

Anyway. Nice canyon. See for yourself.

(No, I’m still not in Kazakhstan anymore.)

Toto, I have the feeling we’re not in Kasakhstan anymore

Toto, I have the feeling we’re not in Kasakhstan anymore

For health-related reasons, I decided to end my stay in Central Asia early. I am now back in Norway and will probably complete my term here. I miss Kazakhstan, and hope I will be able to go back sometime soon. In the meantime, I will continue updating this blog, both with more Kazakhstan-related posts and other stuff. If you want to know more about the life as an exchange student in Almaty, you can also check out the blog of my fellow student Faithieee from Singapore. Her blog is more personal than mine.

http://faithieee.wordpress.com/

For health-related reasons, I decided to end my stay in Central Asia early. I am now back in Norway and will probably complete my term here.

I miss Kazakhstan, and hope I will be able to go back sometime soon. In the meantime, I will continue updating this blog, both with more Kazakhstan-related posts and other stuff. If you want to know more about the life as an exchange student in Almaty, you can also check out the blog of my fellow student Faithieee from Singapore. Her blog is more personal than mine.

Geeks of the world, unite

Geeks of the world, uniteOn a small spot between massiveSoviet-era monuments comemoratingWWII and the October Revolution inthe Panilov park, a group of youngpeople huddle together under thetrees. They are the Almaty club ofrole-players – not an actual club,but a name for a loose network ofpeople playing live-action roleplaying games. Not long ago theyplayed this year’s big summer event,drawing around 300 players. When Iam meeting them they are preparingfor the Fair of Epochs, a festivalof fighting, dressing in costumesand getting drunk in the mountains.If you know Russian, you can checkout the Almaty gamers’ home page. Ifnot, there wil probably be anarticle in the Norwegian geekmagazine Pegasus sometime soon. I’lllet you know.

On a small spot between massive Soviet-era monuments comemorating WWII and the October Revolution in the Panilov park, a group of young people huddle together under the trees. They are the Almaty club of role-players – not an actual club, but a name for a loose network of people playing live-action role playing games. Not long ago they played this year’s big summer event, a game about vikings(!) drawing around 300 players. When I am meeting them they are preparing for the Fair of Epochs, a festival of fighting, dressing in costumes and getting drunk in the mountains.

The Kazakh larpers have, to us, English-speakers, been surrounded by an aura of mystery ever since this article appeared in The Independent. In 2001, Kazakh authorities apparently cracked down on “tolkienists”, described here as “people who dress up as hobbits”, as well as people with various other alternative lifestyles. Kazakh fantasy geeks were the subject of a chapter of You Can’t Get There from Here: A Year on the Fringes of a Shrinking World, in which the author travels to “some of the most exotic spots on Earth” in search of “the most colorful characters and communities she can find” in paces “where others fear to tread”, according to the blurb. These are the two only references to Kazakh gamer culture I have been able to find on the English part of the web. All the “where others fear to tread” stuff aside, finding them was not so difficult: I asked a few people around campus, and there I was.

If you know Russian, you can check out the Almaty gamers’ home page. If not, there wil probably be an interview with them in the Norwegian geek magazine Pegasus sometime soon. I’ll let you know.

On a small spot  inthe Panilov park, between two massive Soviet-era monuments comemorating WWII and the October Revolution, a group of young people huddle together under the trees. They are the Almaty club of role-players – not an actual club, but a loose network of people playing live-action roleplaying games – having their weekly meeting. Not long ago they played this year’s big summer event, a Viking(!) larp drawing around 300 players. When I meet them they are preparing for the Fair of Epochs, an upcoming festival of fighting, dressing in costumes and getting drunk in the mountains.

The Kazakh larpers have, to English-speakers, been surrounded by an aura of mystery ever since this article appeared in The Independent. In 2001, Kazakh authorities apparently cracked down on “tolkienists”, described here as “people who dress up as hobbits”, as well as people with various other alternative lifestyles.

A few years later, Kazakh fantasy geeks were the subject of a chapter in You Can’t Get There from Here: A Year on the Fringes of a Shrinking World, in which the author travels to “some of the most exotic spots on Earth” in search of “the most colorful characters and communities she can find” in places “where others fear to tread. These are the two only references to Kazakh gamer culture I have been able to find on the non-Russian parts of the web.

All the “where others fear to tread” stuff aside: Kazakh gamers are people who like to dress in weird costumes, run around in the wilderness and hit each other with swords, just like you and me. finding them was not so difficult: I asked a few people around campus, and there I was.

There wil probably be an interview with the Kazakh larpers in an upcoming issue of the Norwegian geek magazine Pegasus, so I won’t spoil it by giving away too much here. But if you know Russian, you can check out the Almaty gamers’ home page.

Altyn Emel national park

Rocky vastness stretcing to the horizon in all directions. Hours of driving through barren landscapes. And still, an amazing variety – and, if you look closely, scattered signs of life. Again, pics speak louder than words.

With its 460.000 hectares, Altyn Emel is the biggest national park in Kazakhstan. Surprisingly, many of the Kazakhs I talked to had not heard about this massive nature reserve, which is located a few hundres kilometers outside of Almaty. Their loss. They’ll miss moments such as this:

Making my way up a massive sand dune, a hundred-meter climb in shifting sand, which gets into your shoes and eyes and everywhere and never lets you find your footing. Gruff from a night of sleeping in a tent and getting up too early to watch animals which never appeared. Fed up with life in general and sand and dust in particuar.

Then, the sand dune sang.

The “singing sand dune” is Altyn Emel’s perhaps best-known feature. As the wind swept over the dune, shifting the sand slightly, it emitted a loud, humming roar, not unlike that of a low-flying propeller plane. Running down the dune, it responded by lazy squeaks when my feet touched the sand. Magic.

Great Almaty lake

First weekend in Almaty after a week of running around trying to register for courses, settling in my dorm room, taking care of paperwork that I don’t even pretend to understand, going to the first lectures, which are really about nothing else than the lecturer and the students seeing and feeling each other for the first time, just like home, the main difference being the incomprehensible Russian buzzing in and out of my ears like a swarm of mosquitoes. Similiar scenes are probably being played out on campuses worldwide as I write.

Then, a chance to breathe and take a look at the world outside of campus.

The Great Almaty Lake is located a few miles outside of the city, 2500 meters above sea level. Walking there, or climbing, takes a good five or six hours. I could go on about this, but the photos of the ascent and the lake itself speaks louder than words.Above the lake lies the GAISH astronomical observatory – on the surface a collection of unassuming buildings with a few slightly steampunkish antennae and radar installations sticking out. The observatory looks like something from S.T.A.L.K.E.R: Shadow of Chernobyl. Its real miracles, however, only become apparent when you go inside. One of the domed buildings houses a large telescope, operated by an old man looking slightly like Obi-Wan Kenobi. All sorts of wonders are visible through the telescope, such as Jupiter, the Andromeda galaxy, and differently-colored twin stars.

Oil and pizza

Oil and pizza

Settling in. I now have a dorm room,

have attended my first class and is

slowly working my way through the

complex kremlinology of course

registration (easier than the

University of Oslo, but slightly

more complex than BI). Campus is

lush trees and sunshine.

KIMEP university was set up in 1991,

shorty after the collapse of the

Soviet Union. Staffed to a large

degree by academcs imported from the

West, it was intended to act as a

catalyst for the transformation of

Kazakhstan into a market-based

economy. Now, it is attracting

students from all over Central Asia

and China, as well as a 20-odd

number of US, European and Korean

exchange students every term. Being

modelled after the US system, KIMEP

feels very much like my idea of a US

university campus, though the two

American exchange students present

would most likely disagree. The

working language of is English, and

the words floating from the

lecturers’ chairs are often of the

nasal US-accented type.

Local businesses, of course, know

this: The halls of KIMEP are

decorated by large posters shouting

“DO YOU MISS AMERICAN PIZZA? TRY

PIZZA HUT NEXT DOOR! The Kazakhs

have apparently adapted quite well

to the logic of the market economy.

While GDP per capita shrank by 26

percent in the Nineties, the ecoonmy

has been growing rapidly for the

last decade. Before the global

financial crisis punctured a few

bubbles in the Kazakh economy,

growth was measured in double

digits, a growth mainly fuelled by

oil and gas exports. This is why, if

your read about Central Asian

politics, you’ll stumble across

journalistic jingoisms such as “The

New Middle East” or “The New Great

Game”. Basically, Central Asian oil

and gas reserves are the largest in

the world after the Middle East, and

US, European, Chinese and Russian

oil companies are stumbing over one

another in a frantic effort to get

their greasy palms into it.

(Norwegian StatoilHydro is here too,

of course, but is a midget compared

to the main players.) Meanwhile, the

Central Asian governments themselves

are nobody’s puppets. This all

results in a petropolitical

landscape that is likely give you a

slight headache if you think too

much about it. I had planned to do

just that, having signed up for a

course in Caspian petropolitics that

was cancelled the the last minute.

If you, like  me, think this is

interesting but have no course, You

could do worse than reading Lutz

Klevemann’s The New Great Game, an

accessible introduction to the oily

intrigues around the Caspian Sea.

(All the ‘great game’ talk, by the

way, is a reference to the 19th

century, when Russia and Great

Britain, the main imperialist powers

of the day, were struggling for

dominance over Central Asia through

secret agents, diplomacy, and

military conquest. A well-informed

account, written in an anglocentric,

boy’s own adventures-style, is The

Great Game: On Secret Service in

High Asia.)

I’ve stayed away from Pizza Hut so

far. But the shashlyk across the

street is delicious, and my Kazakh

dormmates make great horsemeat

pasta.

Settling in. I now have a dorm room, have attended my first class and is slowly working my way through the complex kremlinology of course registration (easier than the University of Oslo, but slightly more complex than BI). Campus is lush trees and sunshine.

KIMEP university was set up in 1991, shorty after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Staffed to a large degree by academcs imported from the West, it was intended to act as a catalyst for the transformation of Kazakhstan into a market-based economy. Now, it is attracting students from all over Central Asia and China, as well as a 20-odd number of US, European and Korean exchange students every term. Being modelled after the US system, KIMEP feels very much like my idea of a US university campus, though the two American exchange students present would most likely disagree. The working language of is English, and the words floating from the lecturers’ chairs are often of the nasal US-accented type.

Local businesses, of course, know this: The halls of KIMEP are decorated by large posters shouting ”DO YOU MISS AMERICAN PIZZA? TRY PIZZA HUT NEXT DOOR! The Kazakhs have apparently adapted quite well to the logic of the market economy.

While GDP per capita shrank by 26 percent in the Nineties, the economy has been growing rapidly for the last decade. Before the global financial crisis punctured a few bubbles in the Kazakh economy, growth was measured in double digits, a growth mainly fuelled by oil and gas exports. This is why, if your read about Central Asian politics, you’ll stumble across journalistic jingoisms such as “The New Middle East” or “The New Great Game“. Basically, Central Asian oil and gas reserves are the largest in the world after the Middle East, and US, European, Chinese and Russian oil companies are stumbing over one another in a frantic effort to get their greasy palms into it.

(Norwegian StatoilHydro is here too, of course, but is a midget compared to the main players.) At the same time, the Central Asian governments themselves are nobody’s puppets. This all results in a petropolitical landscape that is likely give you a slight headache if you think too much about it. I had planned to do just that, having signed up for a course in Caspian petropolitics that was cancelled the the last minute.

If you, like  me, think this is interesting but have no course, You could do worse than reading Lutz Klevemann’s The New Great Game: Blood and Oil in Central Asia, an accessible introduction to the oily intrigues around the Caspian Sea.

(All the ‘great game‘ talk, by the way, is a reference to the 19th century, when Russia and Great Britain, the main imperialist powers of the day, were struggling for dominance over Central Asia through secret agents, diplomacy, and military conquest. A well-informed account, written in an anglocentric, boy’s own adventures-style, is The Great Game: On Secret Service in High Asia by Peter Hopkirk.)

I’ve stayed away from Pizza Hut so far. But the shashlyk across the street is delicious, and my Kazakh dormmates make great horsemeat pasta.

Credit crunch

Credit crunch

Two days later and I am finally able to catch my breath for a couple of minutes. Having moved into two different dorm rooms and out of one, gone to three lectures, been X-rayed and tested for HIV (negative), accessorized, met a bunch of nice people and discovered that people don’t seem to react to the few phrases of Russian that I actually remember, I am now enjoying a brief rest in my dorm room. Campus is full of sunshine, green lawns and trees, and is all I have seen of Kazakhstan so far.  Murphy stayed with me all the way here. The KIMEP people were supposed to pick me up, but had been waiting for me the day before (my fault, I suspect). With my predicament made clear, I stumbled into the following conversation, transcribed from a stuttering exchange of bad English and worse Russian:

- Taxi, sir?

- I don’t have any money.

- That’s OK. We’ll stop by an ATM.

(…)

- Your card doesn’t work?

- I’m afraid not. Maybe you should just drop me off here. Sorry for the trouble.

- No worries. I’ll take you to the Intercontinental Hotel. They’ll accept your card.

(…)

- Still doesn’t work?

- No.

- How about exchanging one of those funny-looking notes of yours? They’re Euros, right?

- No, they are Norwegian kroner. They won’t accept them.

(…)

At this point, I started having fantasies about being beaten up, robbed, and sold to the mob as punishment for my missing payment. But the driver, to his credit, was a patient and understanding guy who offered to drive me anyway. In the end, I bought him off with a bottle of Løitens Aquavit. The next ATM I went to promptly ate my card and refused to give it back. Credit crunch, anyone?

Input: Candide (Voltaire), The Ghost of Tom Waits (Tom Waits), lectures in global crises, jetlag.

Two days later and I am finally able to catch my breath for a couple of minutes. Having moved into two different dorm rooms and out of one, gone to three lectures, been X-rayed and tested for HIV (negative), accessorized, met a bunch of nice people and discovered that people don’t seem to react to the few phrases of Russian that I actually remember, I am now enjoying a brief rest in my dorm room. Campus is full of sunshine, green lawns and trees, and is all I have seen of Kazakhstan so far.  Murphy stayed with me all the way here. The KIMEP people were supposed to pick me up, but had been waiting for me the day before (my fault, I suspect). With my predicament made clear, I stumbled into the following conversation, transcribed from a stuttering exchange of bad English and worse Russian:

- Taxi, sir?

- I don’t have any money.

- That’s OK. We’ll stop by an ATM.

(…)

- Your card doesn’t work?

- I’m afraid not. Maybe you should just drop me off here. Sorry for the trouble.

- No worries. I’ll take you to the Intercontinental Hotel. They’ll accept your card.

(…)

- Still doesn’t work?

- No.

- How about exchanging one of those funny-looking notes of yours? They’re Euros, right?

- No, they are Norwegian kroner. They won’t accept them.

(…)

At this point, I started having fantasies about being beaten up, robbed, and sold to the mob as punishment for my missing payment. But the driver, to his credit, was a patient and understanding guy who offered to drive me anyway. In the end, I bought him off with a bottle of Løitens Aquavit. The next ATM I went to promptly ate my card and refused to give it back. Credit crunch, anyone?

Input: Candide (Voltaire), The Ghost of Tom Waits (Tom Waits), lectures in global crises, jetlag.

Murphy goes travelling & the Anderssons are fucked

Speakers bleating calls for planes, people milling around me in fast forward, stomach fighting last day’s abuse from dodgy airplane food. The man beside me on the airport cafe couch downs vodka shots half the size of a normal kitchen glass without flinching. I am repairing the after-effects of last night with a pastic bottle of cheap airplane Chardonnay, halfway through a five-hour waiting session at Riga Airport, destination Almaty.

Last night I attended Laivfabrikken‘s performance of The Family Andersson / Prayers on a porcelain altar, two short larps (here‘s for those of you who are unsure what a larp is), held in a cottage in the woods outside of Oslo. The Family Andersson was a one-hour game about five siblings slugging it out over their parents’ inheritance, a discussion that turned out to be quite mean. The artsy trick of the larp was that every character was played by two players, switching between themselves somewhat like tag team wrestlers. I played the bitter and sarcastic wheelchair-bound youngest son, heaping abuse on my siblings and enjoying myself immensely. The Anderssons, however, are going to have one rotten piece of shit Christmas. I had to leave early for the airport, skipping Prayers from a porcelain altar

Statement of purpose

Welcome! This is my blog. I made it because I am going to Almaty, Kazakhstan, to study. I expect to observe many new things and think many new thoughts in the months to come, and I want to write them down somewhere.

My blog will be personal, but not private. It will most likely be bilingual, written partly in Norwegian and partly in English. There will probably be politics in here, and refrenses to geekish things, and scattered observations about life, the universe, and everything. The target audience is myself, but if you take interest in what is going on in my part of the biosphere, you might find something of interest. If you are my friend on Facebook or Twitter, you will get some sort of notice whenever I post anything here.

Since you are reading this, you probably know me already. My name is Even. I am a freelance political journalist, Msc student of political economy, role-player, father of two, ladybug riding a leaf in the wind. This fall, I am studying at the Kazakhstan Institute of Management, Economics, and Strategic Research in Almaty.