17 July 2014 / leggypeggy

Very childish behaviour from a grown woman (not me)

African Trails, Almaty, cathedrals, churches, domes, gold, grandfather, grandmother, Kazakhstan, overland travel, shorts, St Nicholas, travel, Zula

Onion domes of St Nicholas Cathedral

If I was my grandmother, I would have said, I’m so mad I could spit nails.

Grandma had a colourful way with words and I learned most of the not-quite-toe-curling swear words I know from her.

In fact, most of them came in a single ‘crash course’ on the winter night she fell off the toilet and broke her arm (another long story). Anyway, she dumped a blizzard of swear words on the ambulance men after they accidentally tipped her off the stretcher into the deep snow in the front yard.

But I digress. Actually I’ll digress again briefly. The first time grandma delivered the spit nails comment within my earshot was when she wanted my mother (her daughter-in-law) to be absolutely certain that she was not at all happy about the Christmas present mix-up.

By mistake, mum sent grandma the parcel with the flannel men’s pyjamas meant for mum’s father. Grandpa got the beaded sweater instead. Oops! Harley was sweet about it, but hot-headed Zula was, in my opinion, unnecessarily crabby about an honest mistake.

But honest mistakes had nothing to do with my irritation today.

Church interior

I have two prime targets—Lonely Planet’s Central Asia guidebook and its error-riddled map of central Almaty in Kazakhstan and a bitchy old hag who was offended because Poor John and I turned up to her church in the wrong outfits.

Poor John and I set out this morning to find St Nicholas Cathedral. We walked several kilometres along Zhibek Zholy to the T-junction and then turned left onto what ought to have been Baytursynuly (isn’t that a great spelling!).

The map showed the cathedral was seven blocks straight up Baytursynuly. But dead ends and obstacles (including a major hospital) not shown on the map meant we zigzagged around blocks and did our best to stay on course. By the time we reached an intersection displaying street names, we were six or seven blocks off track. Poor John has a great sense of direction, so the map had to be (and was, we later confirmed) the problem.

In spite of the map, we found St Nicholas Cathedral with its turquoise exterior and ornate golden onion domes.

On the way in through the front gate I noticed a woman putting on a scarf. Oh hey, I said to Poor John, I’d better not go in because my top is sleeveless, but then I remembered my long-sleeved black merino top was tied around my waist for just such occasions.

More interior

So standing almost in front of the woman donning the scarf, I put on my black top as well as Poor John’s hat. Men must take off their hats and women are to have their heads covered.

And in we went. It was the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. There were maybe 10 people in the church, including tourists. Although photos were allowed, I hung back and took pictures only when it wouldn’t disturb someone’s prayers.

Afterwards we strolled outside and took a seat on a timber bench in the cathedral’s driveway. The woman of the scarf made a beeline for us. She was angry and on a mission—that was easy to see—and she was going to swoop.

In Russian or Kazakh (I’ll never know) she thoroughly told us off, pointing to our shorts. She scowled, snarled, raised her voice, chastised, criticised, harped and finger wagged, all the while pointing back and forth at our offending shorts. And I have to add here that these are almost knee-length shorts.

Domes from a distance—after we’d been run off the place

Anyway I smiled and nodded and said, Yes, yes, thank you, thank you for letting us know about a rule that isn’t posted anywhere on the door like the church in Georgia.

Which was a signal for her to start her tirade over again.

But I stood up and cut her short. I raised my hand, smiled and said something along the lines of, It’s clear the only solution is for us to leave, so we’ll be on our way, but I will always remember you as the most un-Christian of people.

Of course, if I’d been my grandmother Zula, I have said You bloody cow. You are a childish and rude person who has almost spoiled a trip to a lovely cathedral. I’m so mad I could spit nails.

But we still had a good time and I didn’t want to behave as badly as she had.

Kazakh-British Technical University—previously Parliament

A small selection of cookbooks on display

Meeting nice people on the way home
Our trip back to the hostel provided a welcome change.

We chatted with a man and his son who were standing outside the Kazakh–British Technical University (the son was being enrolled to study petroleum engineering). Dad told us about the building, which used to be Kazakhstan’s Parliament, and about the nation’s oil industry (dad is a petroleum engineer in the western part of the country).

A short time later, Aeda, a lovely young woman in a bookstore, helped us find a Russian–English phrasebook. Her English was excellent but she was stumped trying to find me a cookbook written in Kazakh or Russian as well as English. But in her quest to introduce us to more about Kazakh cuisine, customs and culture, Aeda invited us to her home. Sadly, we had to decline because we’re heading off tomorrow. I have her phone number, so maybe next time. 🙂

I wonder how the old bat ended her day?

St Nicholas Cathedral

And a bit about the cathedral
St Nicholas Cathedral was built in 1909. Later the Bolshevik cavalry used it as a stable. It wasn’t reopened as a place of worship until 1980.

The interior is filled with gold leaf, icons, candles and dramatic paintings. It was too dark to get a pic of the painting of Judas slipping away from the Last Supper to collect his bag of sliver.

Oh, and stay tuned to read about our trip to Almaty’s main cathedral and what happened when I wasn’t supposed to take photos.

And if you’re hungry
Don’t forget to check out my cooking blog. There aren’t any recipes for sour grapes for crabby women, but here’s an easy one for lime cheesecake.