From Bishkek

On my last night in Almaty, I was taken to Tau-Dastarkhan, a spa and resort in the mountains. The name means something like mountain feast, "tau" being the Kazakh word for mountain and "dastarkhan" literally meaning "tablecloth" but which also refers to a feast for family and friends on a special occasion. Unfortunately, I was not expecting such an elaborate farewell, so I didn't bring a camera and it's much prettier at night, but there are pictures posted on the complex's website here, here, here, here, here, and here. There are six restaurants each with a different national theme, private dining gazebos, several heated swimming pools, saunas, and a hotel all tastefully built into the mountain side. During the day, four wheelers and helicopter rides are available.

I left Almaty at 8 a.m. the following morning as the only passenger aboard a minivan from the bus station. We reached the border around 12 o'clock and arrived at the Manas International Airport around 12:30. The first person who greeted me was the woman at the exchange office who seemed genuinely happy to see me at the virtually empty airport and tried to speak to me in Spanish.

The road from Almaty to Bishkek was mountainous and sometimes beautiful but otherwise unremarkable except for the gradient of increasing poverty that appears upon leaving Almaty. Shortly after leaving the city, the countryside becomes agricultural and sparsely populated except for the occasional village or cottage. The infrastructure is good in Kazakhstan, but changes noticeably upon entering Kyrgyzstan, where the roads are Soviet era and even in Bishkek the sidewalks are cracked and full of holes and electrical wires hang dangerously low on their poles.

Crossing borders always presents a relatively stressful moment insofar as you are entering a no-man's land where you feel quite powerless in the hands of the border police of both your places of exit and entry. Realistically, the most trouble I have ever had in crossing a border was at the Chinese Zamin Uud - Erlian border, where the Chinese border guard kept me for a while complaining that my passport picture didn't look like me. But in actually, I think she just saw a Chinese-speaking foreigner as a curiosity...flirting as it goes in immigration. More recently, after being voted off the bus in Khorgos, perhaps sensing my dismay at having my travel plans forcibly changed, one Russian remarked, "Just tell the border guards your name is 'James Bond.' You'll have no problems." and the bus shook with laughter as I was ejected into the stalled border traffic.

Crossing the Kazakhstan-Kyrgyzstan border was surprisingly uninteresting, but nerve-wracking as is any situation that places a person at the mercy of strange people toting ugly semi-automatic firearms. The border police with their broad Soviet-style brims appeared bored and uninterested in me. At each border they did not even bother to check my bags or scrutinize me beyond the basic passport/visa check with the exception of simply asking me whether I was carrying drugs or weapons. "Pistolet?" the Kazakh guard asked me as he pulled an imaginary trigger.

In all, Bishkek is a far less attractive and more unfriendly city than Almaty. However, like Almaty, Bishkek is a very green city with large, health trees lining virtually every street and large parks, albeit unmanicured with overgrowth and undergrowth. It is also a very poorly-lit city at night, and once you leave the downtown area, Bishkek becomes a very dark city indeed and the foliage that is pleasant during the daytime becomes rather intimidating. It is much like walking on a sidewalk through the woods at night, although it is not so remote as the woods and there are plenty of people around who could plausibly quietly rob you or worse.

I have also quickly discovered that the police are an issue in Bishkek, and for whatever reason, they frequently stop foreign-looking people to check for travel documents and today, I was nailed twice. The first time was decidedly frightening not only because it was the first time and I have read so many stories of shakedowns by corrupt police in Central Asia, but because it occurred at the bus station (notorious for such crimes) immediately after I had turned a corner, as if by design.

About 10 meters beyond the corner as I walked down a dusty dirt road, I heard someone call me from behind and turned quickly to wave him off, thinking he was a taxi driver hawking tours. But at his second call, I noted that he was a shabbily uniformed security officer. He called to me "Passport! Document! American? Deutsch? Rusky?" as a second officer followed behind him. I didn't answer, but walked back towards him with my heavy pack in tow and opened my passport to my Kyrgyz visa. He quickly showed me his official ID as he took my passport and checked the visa and then looking down at the ID page. "Ah, American!" he exclaimed, handed back my passport and quickly walked away. I guess that's the benefit of having a huge base and paying massive bribes...er, rent.

This brings me to the conclusion that when you are threatened or perceive a threat, you get the idea of exactly what "security" means. And if you view the situation from the perspective of a Kyrgyz police officer, he has no idea who an American might be and what sort of repercussions any mistreatment might bring (presuming that he may wish to do something other than his job). And while some people consider gratitude to "army guys" as a priori to citizenship (to be sure, certain special-interest groups do), I was a little surprised how thankful I felt at that moment.

Fare Thee Well, Almaty

Every time you travel to a new place, it is quite naturally different from any place you have ever been before, and to a curious person, most places will seem interesting. That said, perhaps I stayed a little too long as I have become acutely aware of why the Almaty Expat site announces "Say - NO to your boredom!" It certainly must get boring around here, especially during the winter.

However, I am leaving Almaty with a positive impression and it is a far better city than I imagined. The people are open, warm to travelers, very much laid-back, and I have found Almaty a very easy place to make friends. Additionally, there are a lot of things to do outside of Almaty such as skiing, hunting (ibex, elk, deer, wolves, bears, birds, rabbits), fishing, trekking, camping, etc. Additionally, the level of spoken English seems to be rapidly improving particularly among the young people in Kazakhstan, where English is now learned from the first year of school. KIMEP (Kazakhstan Institute of Management, Economics and Strategic Research), where all classes are taught in English, is also located in Almaty.

Otherwise, if you are too lazy to actively alleviate your boredom, you will be pleased to know that they don't suffer the priggishness of "public consumption" laws and it's fairly common to see people drinking in the streets -- usually Baltika beer (Baltika 9 contains 8% alcohol). In fact, based upon what I have observed and heard, alcohol consumption in Kazakhstan seems to roughly follow Russia's problematic example, where men's tolerance for alcohol is only exceeded by women's tolerance of men.

Further to that smear, it has been explained to me that Borat's claim than in Kazakhstan horses can vote but women cannot is not entirely off the mark, and women here decidedly occupy a status submissive to men. Often, in the home they are expected to be subservient to their husbands, and in the workplace they often face discrimination and receive lower pay. And as far as Borat is concerned, Kazakhs quite rightfully despise Sacha Baron Cohen for his portrayal of their country, not only because it is largely grossly-inaccurate, but because the premise of the joke is the introduction of a relatively unknown country. Thus as a newly independent nation, Kazakhs feel they can be misrepresented and embarrassed in ways that more prominent countries cannot. The topic of Borat was mentioned scornfully and frequently in conversation here, and I ineffectively tried to explain that the joke is really about the ignorance of the audience and not aimed at Kazakhstan.


There is also certainly an overhanging presence of Soviet-style service, and several times I have received atrocious service in Almaty, where I was completely ignored by service people or service was extremely slow. Compounding bad service are high prices, and it is difficult to have a sit-down meal in Almaty for less than 10 to 15 USD and more often restaurants are grossly overpriced (Mad Murphy's pub offers a US$15 hamburger). By way of comparison, Almaty is bafflingly expensive when compared to China. One would think that an affluent city such as Almaty in such close proximity to China would benefit from the "China price" and prices would stay fairly low, but for limited transport, taxation, market protection, the shock of too much oil money, or by some other distortion prices are quite high. Generally speaking, Almaty delivers relatively little value per dollar spent.

Also, although not quiet so overt as in China, I found IP theft be alive and well.


Images of Almaty city seal and skyline from Wikimedia Commons.

Ethnicity in Kazakhstan

One of the things I've found most charming about Kazakhstan is the extraordinary mix of people. I've read figures ranging between 120 and 160 distinct ethnic groups in Kazakhstan, although some of these groups are very small and may consist of only a few families. Of course, one wonders what criteria was used (presumably by the Russians) to define an "ethnic group" when a country as populous as China only recognizes 56 "official" ethnic groups.

According to this map and the 10 major ethnic groups that it charts, Almaty is primarily Kazakh and Russian, but it seems that there is a great deal of racial diversity and peoples of mixed ethnicity. From what I have observed, people of the Kazakh ethnicity tend to have distinctly Eurasian features that covers a broad spectrum of phenotypes and includes such exotic features as Asiatic faces with brown or blond hair and yellow, gray, and sometimes blue or green eyes. Likewise, there are people (presumably ethnic Russians) who appear more Caucasoid with blond hair, blue eyes, but who also might have more angular eyes and roundish faces that are more common to Asiatics. Okay, I know it's horribly politically incorrect to harp on the physical traits that define race and ethnicity and the next thing your know I'll be marching through the streets of Almaty with a pair of calipers to take measurements. Of course, I am only joking.

While Kazakhstan prides itself on its racial harmony, occasionally it does get out of control, as demonstrated in the story below. BTW, my hotel is above a pool hall, so I'll consider myself forewarned.

The unrest began March 17 with a fight over a game of billiards and ended with an attack on the house of a Chechen family that left five dead. Eyewitnesses say violence broke out in the village of Malovodnoye, about 80 kilometers east of Almaty, when Takhir Makhmakhanov, an ethnic Chechen from the neighboring village of Kazatkom, refused to concede defeat to his rival, Baurzhan Salimbayev, an ethnic Kazakh. After the two came to blows, Salimbayev left the billiards hall, but was chased by Makhmakhanov, who ran into him in a jeep and broke his leg, then shot him in the other leg.

The following day, Salimbayev went to the Makhmakhanov family home in the neighboring village with a convoy of some 50 carloads of supporters that besieged the house. Eyewitnesses say shots were fired from inside. In the ensuing fracas, nine people were injured. Three died that day and two more subsequently died after being hospitalized. Three of the dead were brothers of Takhir Makhmakhanov, who is now on the run. The Makhmakhanov family disputes this version of events, saying the attack was long planned and their house was fired on from the crowd.

Some 50 people have been arrested and face charges ranging from premeditated murder to hooliganism and damage to property. The incident was followed by rallies in which participants demanded the family’s removal from the village.

Additionally, race and ethnicity has become an issue in the post-Soviet era, and according to Lutz Kleveman, the capital was moved from Almaty to Astana partly to assert Kazakhstan's territoriality in the predominately ethnic Russian northern provinces (oblasks). Previously known as Akmola which means "holy place" or literally "white grave," Astana was given its present name meaning "capital" in 1994 when it was designated to be the future capital of Kazakhstan. From what I am told, while still a considerably less attractive city than Almaty, Astana has undergone a building boom in recent years. Funded by oil and gas revenues, large amounts of capital have been pumped into the city, new government buildings and and a new presidential palace has been constructed, and most significantly, young ethnic Kazakhs have been given housing and job incentives to move to Astana to alter the ethnic balance in the northern regions and ensure that it remains irrevocably part of Kazakhstan.

Post-OVIR Stress Disorder

If you visit Kazakhstan, you must register with the local police at OVIR (pronouced "oh-veer"). This is also required in other countries such as China, but in China, your hotel (assuming you are staying in hotel designated to receive foreign guests) will kindly perform all of the paperwork for you and scan your passport into their computer (which I always find disconcerting). In Kazakhstan, this is something that a travel agency can arrange for you, and in fact, given my recent experience with OVIR, I would highly recommend sparing yourself the trauma of visiting OVIR and hiring an agent instead. Basically, visiting OVIR means long lines (more like amorphous swarms really), lots of waiting, and misdirection from smug officials who work short, irreggular, and apparently somewhat discretionary hours. For instance, on Friday, passports were to be returned at 5 PM, but they were an hour late getting started.

I did look into hiring a travel agency, but when I was given a quotation of KZT3000 (US$25), I balked and decided to do it myself, since the Lonely Planet said it should cost less than KZT800 (US$6.70). While it is occassionally useful to "know the ropes" and/or "be thrifty," this was a mistake that ended-up costing too much time and effort. If your registering with OVIR yourself, expect the process to take a minimum of 36 hours; however, if you use an agency, I have been told it is a single day process and you will save yourself the indignity of enduring unforgivable bureaucratic intransigence, hours waiting in an dimly lit concrete room without airconditioning, and being pressed into a throng of tired, sweaty travelers who are at least as desperate as you are to receive their registration papers. However, if you want a taste of legacy Soviet-style bureaucracy, OVIR just might be worth a visit before it is finally phased-out. As a local I met at OVIR told me, "We're used to it. We have no choice."

Scenes from Panfilov Park and observations

The Zenkov Cathedral Designed by AP Zenkov, the cathedral is one of Amaty's only tsarist-era buildings to survive the 1911 earthquake. The cathedral is built entirely of wood and constructed without nails.

The park is named after the Panfilov Heroes, and specifically, the parks memorial and eternal flame commemorates the the 28 soldiers from Almaty among the troops who famously stopped the Nazi's advance at Moscow's gates. This enormous statue depicts soldiers from all 15 of the Soviet Union's provinces bursting forth from a back drop of a map of the USSR.

Before arriving in Almaty, I assumed that it would be more like Ulaanbaatur, but in fact, it's a far more civilized and wealthier place than UB. Within the city center, all of the roads are new and designed on an easily navigable grid, and the bus service is fairly reliable and perhaps the only bargain available in Almaty. Generally, I have found the people here to be quite friendly and well-educated, particularly the young people, many of who speak good English as it is taught in Kazakhstan beginning in the first year of school.

Generally, the city is very clean, the food is good, there is an acceptable range restaurants, the people are well-mannered (offering seats to women and the elderly is quite strictly practiced) and well dressed. Like UB, the women dress to kill, which may have something to do with the Soviet/Russian influence and perhaps the finest legacy of Russian imperialism. The city itself is subdued and feels far more European than Asian, with broad avenues lined with large oak trees. While I have received numerous warnings on safety from locals, but there is a substantial police presence in the streets and I do not believe it is much more dangerous than any other city of similar size (about 2.5 million).

On the south end of town, construction is booming, and there is a massive international financial district being constructed, with cranes lining the highway in every direction. Almaty is one of those places that has changed so fast that only the most up-to-date information is useful, and thus, my 2004 Central Asia Loneley Planet has been only marginally useful as the value of the currency has changed, some of the street names have reverted from Russian to Kazakh and new streets have been constructed, new hotels have opened and others have closed, prices have climbed, opening hours are different, etc.

Much of Almaty's boom is fueled by the natural resources boom that has brought-in a massive influx of foreign companies and investment, most prominently in the Kashagan oil field, which is the largest new discovery of oil in decades. Of course, there is an interesting (and well-known) story behind it, and for now, I will suffice to say that when I mentioned the country's new oil wealth to a local friend, she snapped, "Yes, but that's privately held!"

The Hotel Crapistan

Well, it seems that the honeymoon is over in Almaty, and two days ago, I left the home of my hosts and checked into a hotel at the cost of KZT1400 (about US$11.50) per day, which is extraordinarily cheap by Almaty standards. I am not sure what the hotel's actual name is, but I have appositely nicknamed it the Hotel Crapistan on account of its remarkable resemblance to the Hotel Crapistan in New Falls, PA, which is one of my all-time favorites.

Back at the home of my hosts, the parents had just returned from a trip to Astana, and they brought with them a friend, which meant that the house was overcrowded. And by mutual agreement reached by a few exchanged broken key phrases, glances and gesticulation, we accepted that my invitation had reached its end, and I told them I planned to leave the next day.

My host's friend was an agreeable ethnic Russian woman, who could scarcely speak a word of English. We met as she stood inside my hosts' fenced-in yard smoking and I just returning from downtown Almaty, stepped through the gate. She immediately recognized me and burst out laughing, which indicated to me that there had been some discussion of my persistent presence in their house and that I had probably stayed longer than they expected. That night, we went to dimly lit, outdoor beer garden, where I believe the family wished to entertain their in-town guest, and they brought me along incidentally. There, we sat wrapped in blankets as we drank one beer apiece and dined on horse meat kebabs and some sort of Kazakh fried pancake with herbs and potato inside -- something between a pargogi and khuushuur. Interestingly, all of the children were allowed to drink from their parents' beer, and even the two year-old was offered a sip, which she smartly refused.

Anyhow, on Monday morning, I lugged my packed down the road to catch the 98 bus into town, and I booked a room at the Crapistan, where I am rooming with an ever shifting population of working class Kazakhs. In my room there are three beds, stained pastel yellow walls, gray peeling linoleum floor tiles, a toilet, a judicious quantity of food that sits rotting on common table, and my current roommates, Peter and Osmond, both evidently over sixty and tattooed simple men strangely forged under the loving finesse of the Soviet hand.

Peter, I believe is a bit crazy, and talks incessantly whether or not someone else is present and speaking with him. He has mad smile and his yellow teeth are neatly separated by the wide, regular spaces between them. He and I can converse a little in German, and he frequently mentions his children and grandchildren who live somewhere in Germany.

Osmond seems a bit more "with it" in an antisocial sort of way. The rotting food is his and when he awakes at 7 AM, he turns on the lights and doesn't even bother to turn them off when he leaves the room as Peter and I try to sleep. He also seems to be a fan of reading All Kriminal, which was a source of some concern to me when I first entered the empty room and surveyed my new roommates possessions, but he's harmless as long as I sleep with my wallet and camera under my pillow.

But I must say that in spite of our superficial differences, we do have somethings in common: we were all born and raised in areas with extreme levels of radioactive contamination, we've all spent the majority of our adulthood in prison, and we are unified in our belief that the television should be on at all waking hours. All joking aside, had I not spent so much time in China, I am not sure that I could quietly tolerate it.

Familial Kazakhstan

One of the more interesting characteristics of Kazakh culture is its family or clan-orientation. Traditionally, in order to be a well-bred Kazakh, it was important to know one's foregoing family lineage for seven generations. Today, that is not strictly the rule, but the family remains highly central to Kazakh life.

The family of Russian-speaking ethnic Kazakhs that is currently hosting me has extended extraordinary hospitality to me for reasons that aren't entirely apparent. The immediate household consists of five people: father, mother, daughter (12), son (10), and daughter (2); however, the short time that I have spent with them I have been introduced to nine other members of their family, due to the fact that Kazakhs spend a great deal of time visiting their relatives at home, talking, drinking tea and engaging in different types of cooperative behavior such as child-rearing to car-pooling.

This tradition descends from the nomadic lifestyle, which was extinguished through the forced urbanization imposed by the Soviet Union. However, the clannishness of Kazakh society still persists and extends through daily life, and large families are desirable and seen as a source of prosperity. I read about this before I arrived in Kazakhstan, and in fact, due to the deprivations and oppression of Soviet life, clan-ties were forced "underground" but also strengthened by the necessities of survival. Nonetheless, while I expected this cultural trait, I was surprised by its pervasiveness and salience.

The family that I am staying with has been remarkably generous in not only inviting me into their house, but accommodating me to the point that I feel a bit embarrassed to be the subject of such undue attention. When I am at the house, every meal has been meticulously prepared and served, and generally, I've been enjoying a lot more service and horse meat than I am accustomed to.

On my first evening in Almaty, after an extremely long and tiring train ride from Urumqi, I was taken to the home of my host's sister. After passing through the gate, tired and disoriented, I was told to wait for a moment while the boy restrained the guard dogs, and then I was shuttled from the car in darkness to the front door of the cousin's large house. Inside, I met my hosts sister, a gynecologist, and her husband, a general in the police force, and their son (who speaks excellent English) and daughter.

There we dined from a large plate piled with large flat noodles (something like lasagna in size) topped with roasted horse meat. It was quite delicious, but I was somewhat disturbed by the fact that the man of the house seated next to me was picking at the noodles and meat with his hands, obviously messy and possibly unhygienic. Later I was informed that this dish was in fact a traditional dish called "beshbarmak," which means "five fingers" and is intended to be eaten thusly. Dinner was followed by tea, chocolate-covered fruits (a traditional Kazakh sweet), and a plate of dried apricots, raisins, almonds, and sugar-coated peanuts (a tradition imported from Turkey, I am told).

The children are extremely well-behaved, and collectively, the women and children perform all of the household chores. When the mother is away, the daughter (who speaks minimal English) awakes early in the morning to prepare breakfast, prepares dinner for me when I return in the evening and apologizes when my tea cup is empty. She also cleans the house in cooperation with her mother or any female relatives who happen to be there at the time. The boy also seems to take a great deal of responsibility for a 10 year-old and routinely tries to entertain me with computer games and DVDs or offers me sparkling water and iced tea. Both children are quite accomplished in ballroom dance, and they have proudly displayed to me their medals and photos of themselves in elaborate dance costumes competing on the dance floor.

Of course, Kazakhstan is still a predominately Muslim country, and I can hear the hypnotic call-to-prayer sung from the nearby mosque every evening around 9:30. However, it seems that Islam is practiced in Almaty like Catholicism is practiced in Milan -- quite sparingly. Still, the women of this family do have a particular regard for feminine modesty, and on occasion, the little girl has been told not to sit next to me (I am assuming this is the reason). Still, Kazakhstan is an extremely diverse country -- 50% Kazakh, 30% Russian and more than 120 other ethnicities guaranteeing a broad mosaic of behaviors and social norms.

From Almaty

The bus trip from Urumqi to Almaty was eventful as these things go. By the time we go the border at the Khorgos Pass, the other passengers (mostly ethnic Russians) had decided that they would be able to pass customs more quickly if they rerouted to a pass 40 km from Korgos, but there was a catch. I, as the only non-Kazakh and non-Chinese citizen on the bus could not enter at the alternative location. Thus, I was voted off the bus and passed-off to a Kazakh lady who was traveling with her two children. We went through customs at Khorgos without any difficulty and I ended-up staying the night a the family's home, which I will recount in more detail later. I had to leave my bag on the bus, because we were in traffic when I exited and I was told that the woman and her children also had left their things there. We met with her husband who drove us to Almaty and we arrived around 7:30 PM. The bus arrived with our things around 1 AM due to some complications with their "short-cut."

Almaty is much nicer than expected -- very leafy, comfortable and well-maintainted but ungodly expensive. I am having trouble finding a hotel for less than US$100. I am absolutely exhausted.

From Urumqi

I am currently in Urumqi, the colorless capital of Xinjiang Province in China's far west. As a result of a massive government directed migration of Han Chinese to Xinjiang, over the years Urumqi has become an ethnic Han city and a new city at that, the majority of which appears to be about 10 years old. While there is a bazaar where a lot of unique items from the region are available for sale -- knives, carpets, furs, hats, musical instruments, textiles, etc. -- it is situated a large modern building which has an escalator that descends to a Carrefour in the basement. Additionally, pictured below is the bazaar's KFC above which Colonel Sander's stoic countenance hangs, as it has for thousands of years when boneless spicy chicken wings ("It's no bones, all flavor.") were first introduced to China via the ancient Silk Road. Also pictured flying above the Colonel are the flags of Turkmenistan, Turkey, China, France, Tajikistan, Pakistan, and Kazakhstan.

While the majority of the city is Han Chinese, there are still a significant number of Uighur minority people as well as a mix of other Central Asian ethnicities, which gives the city some flavor. Relations with the Uighur minority is China's most problematic source of ethnic friction, there remains an independence movement in exile and in recent years, there have been both government atrocities and terrorist incidents. However, any open dissension is suppressed (as is the practice of the traditional Sufi Islam), and thus, the most public advocates of this minority are located abroad in the United States, Germany, and in China's central Asian neighbors. However, after 9/11, the US classified one Uighur armed resistance group as a terrorist organization, and thus, like other unrelated organizations in places like Chechnya, the government has been given a blank check to ruthlessly crack down on any opposition.

As one might expect, the ethnicities are not very well integrated and there are significant tensions, as the culture language and control of the region has only been imposed in recent decades. In fact, China claims to have ruled this area for up to 2,000 years, which is a gross distortion of reality, if only because the nature of its domain has changed so severely over the past 50 years. As my taxi was approaching the the bazaar, I struck up a conversation with my taxi driver. Noticing her rather northeastern sounding Chinese, I asked where she was from.

"I am from Xinjiang," she answered assertively.
"Really? Have you always lived in Xinjiang?"
"Yes, I am fourth generation Xinjiangnese."
"Is this were the Uighur people live?"
"Yes, this is the Uighur minority neighborhood."
"Is it safe here?"
"There are some thieves, so you have to be careful. We don't like them. We like Han Chinese people."
"Why don't you like them?"
"They can't speak proper Chinese so their difficult to understand.
"Do you think they are smart people?"
"There are some smart people, but too many are stupid."

Of course, like many other ethnic and territorial conflicts of the post-Cold War world, the politics of Xinjiang are largely driven by the importance of its natural resources. In this, China's largest province, periodically new substantial discoveries of oil and gas have been announced, and as of 2004, a pipeline was completed to pump gas from the Tarim Basin to Shanghai, to help fuel China's boom. Additionally, great quantities of natural resources from Central Asia currently pass or are planned to pass through Xinjiang, as China competes with other players for resources and influence in the region.

Here in economically growing and culturally graying Urumqi, the proximately nihilistic mantra of 21^st century development is loud and clear: stability and growth über alles. Echoing such prominent thinkers such as Thomas Barnett, the overreaching objective of development is to make the world a safe and stable place for capitalist corporate growth, and perhaps once these have been achieved, some hope, the idealistic, enlightened higher tiers of social order will emerge. Today, were he alive to visit Urumqi's bazaar, I am sure that Colonel Sanders would lead the march.

Image of Xinjiang Province from Wikimedia Commons.