The Architects' Dream: Building Astana

As late as 1991, Kazakhstan's modern capital was little more than a dot on the frozen wastelands of the country's northern steppe. In just two decades, however, Astana has exploded out of the earth into a political playground, financial hub and veritable architects' dream. Unrestrained by lack of space, money or ambition, the blank canvas of Astana's skyline has been transformed with imaginative design. Home-grown talent battles for attention among international heavy-weights, and even the global recession has scarcely slowed Astana's expansion.

As yet largely undiscovered by international tourists, the majority of visitors to Astana are business travellers drawn by Kazakhstan's vast oil and gas resources. For those with the time and inclination to step outside the city's numerous 5* hotels, however, Astana is a vibrant city that encapsulates President Nazarbayev's vision for a modern, high-profile and evidently wealthy Kazakhstan.   

The newest kid on the architectural block is the Khan Shatyry (the "Royal Marquee"), the world's largest tent. Inspired by Kazakhtsan's nomadic past, Foster and Partners have designed a tent 150 m tall with a floor area equivalent to 10 football pitches. If the idea of boating in a gondola, playing golf indoors, or relaxing on a beach some 5000 km from the sea appeals, this is the place to come. Almost as impressive as the structure and its contents is the innovative temperature control system which ensures the air remains a balmy 20 degrees Celsius even whilst outside temperatures swing from -35 in winter to +35 in summer. The central atrium has hosted concerts by the likes of Andrea Bocelli, and the performance space is used on a regular basis by circus groups, dance troupes and bands. 

Foster's other contribution to Astana's skyline is the Palace of Peace and Reconciliation. This pyramid-shaped structure, comprised of tessellating triangles of granite and stained glass, was built to host a triennial conference of world religions, and its shape was chosen as it was not associated with any one of the religious groups represented. The main conference chamber is upheld by four huge struts, which Foster claims symbolise the hands of peace. The palace also houses a 1,500-seat opera house, educational facilities, and the national centre for information about Kazakhstan's many ethnic groups.

Two thirds of Kazakhstan's population are officially Muslim and so it is fitting that the Nur Astana Mosque should be among the city's most iconic buildings. A gift from the Emir of Qatar and the output of a Lebanese architect, the Nur Astana is one of 1700 mosques built in Kazakhstan since independence: the religion is experiencing a remarkable renaissance after years of being outlawed under Communism. Each of the 63 m high minarets (symbolic as the Prophet was 63 when he died) is constructed from white marble and surrounds a golden dome, in stark contrast to the muted, pastel interior painted by Kazakh artists before the mosque's official opening in 2008.   

The growth of Astana has been integrally linked with the power of Nazarbayev, and as he enters his eighth decade and the city also comes to maturity, it will be interesting to see if Kazakhstan's first President has one last architectural swansong up his sleeve.  The architectural legacy he leaves behind is, in any case, a legacy befitting of a man whose own ascendancy cannot be separated out from the birth and emergence on the international scene of the country and capital he built.

HOLIDAY READING

Aitken, J. Nazarbayev and the Making of Kazakhstan: From Communism to Capitalism

Brummell, P. Kazakhstan

Omrani, B. Asia Overland: Tales of Travel on the Trans-Siberian and Silk Road

Robbins, C. In Search of Kazakhstan: The Land that Disappeared

How to spoil the Wonders of the World

Almost everyone has heard of the seven wonders of the ancient world, and most people could name a handful of them. What I had not realised until very recently, however, is that the Great Pyramid at Giza is the only one of these wonders still standing. 4500 years after its construction you can still reach out and touch the stonework and, for the payment of a few dollars extra, crawl most of the way inside.

The Egyptian government has, understandably, capitalised on the tourism potential of the site and draws vast revenues from it each year. What they have not done, however, is taken their responsibility as guardians seriously. The pyramid, and indeed any historic artefact, is not a just a means to make a quick buck: if you take ownership of something and wish to profit from it, you have to conserve it for all the generations to come.

I first became irked by this all too common problem some years ago in Jaipur, India when visiting the Albert Hall Museum. The artefacts on display may not be the finest in existence (those, of course, are in the National Museum in Delhi, the V&A in London or  in private collections) but they are antiques nonetheless and they have a significant historical and cultural value. The museum is filthy and the exhibits caked in dust and pigeon poo. It doesn't result from a lack of money - there are ample staff employed - but there is no leadership and everything stinks of neglect.

Scroll forward perhaps a decade to Cairo in November 2011. Yes the city has had a turbulent year, but fortunately neither the pyramids nor the National Museum, a mere stone's throw from Tahrir Square, were directly harmed by the revolution. Tourist numbers have crashed, in no small part due to the perception of political instability, but if Egypt's tourism promotion were to fall under our remit, increasing confidence would only be part of the strategy: improving the delivery of the city's touristic offerings has to be on the agenda to keep tourist numbers up in the mid to long-term.

Visiting the Great Pyramid can be a nightmare, even for the experienced traveler. You arrive on site to be met by an onslaught of touts, many of whom claim to be government authorised guides (they're not). The ticket office is unmarked (putting you at the mercy of aforementioned touts as you have to ask for directions), and neither is the entrance through which you must pass to be be security screened. Once inside things don't improve: paths are unmarked and strewn with rubble and litter; there are no signposts; and every second step there is someone there hassling you to buy over-priced souvenirs or a camel ride. The more you refuse, the more insistent (and even aggressive) the camel drivers become. I consider myself to be fairly resistant to harrassment, but here even I was pushed to my limit.

The last straw was trying to get inside the Great Pyramid itself. There are no signs showing where the entrance might be, so we walked all four sides and eventually accosted the police. The gesticulated towards a small crowd of people sat 20' or so up the side of the pyramid, next to the signs saying not to climb on the monument. We traipsed up the steps, turning down t-shirts, fridge magnets and pyramid snow globes as we went, only to be told we couldn't take our cameras inside but had to leave them at the doorway. There were no lockers, and the guard would not give a token or receipt for the camera - you were required to leave it on the ledge and hope it was there when you came back. It wouldn't have been. We took it in turns to go inside, the person on the outside keeping hold of the cameras.

The day after the frustrations of the pyramids, we headed to the salmon-ponk building that houses the collection of the National Museum on Tahrir Square. The collection is magnificent, including not only the funereal goods of Tutankhamum but also bewildering array of mummies and sarcophagi, paintings, jewellery, models of everyday life in ancient Egypt, furniture, chariots and sculptures. What lets down these masterpieces, and even damages them, is the display.

The National Museum is dirty. Cases and artefacts are dusty and, in a few cases, even damp. Preserved for thousands of years, artefacts are decaying right under the negligent eyes of the museum's curators. Windows are broken, cases cracked and the yellowed cards describing what you're actually looking at are few and far between.And this is only what's being exhibited - it sickens me to think what state artefacts are being stored in out of site. A theft could go months unnoticed, and that is if it came from the outside.

The pyramids and the National Museum both earn a substantial revenue for the Egyptian government. The decay and mismanagement does not result from a lack of funds - it comes from corruption and laziness. The money comes in but is isn't spent on preserving the nation's heritage; it isn't invested in ensuring that visitors (be they local or foreign) have a positive experience so that they will communicate to friends and relatives, encouraging them to come and spend their money. If the Egyptian State wants to increase numbers and increase tourism revenues, they need to improve visitors' experience. They can do this in the following ways:

-  Reinvest a significant proportion of ticket prices into the preservation of monuments and artefacts so that world-class attractions are displayed in world-class surroundings and, even more importantly, will still be intact and on view in 100 years time.
- Keep things clean. Nothing detracts from monuments and exhibits more than litter and grime. The staff are on site - make them clean.
- Provide visitors with the information they need: maps on boards, sign posts and registered guides with ID badges.
- Keep the touts out. A harrassed tourist is an unhappy tourist.
- Designate specific areas of the pyramid site for camel drivers and souvenir sellers (they needn't be in the same place). If tourists want a camel ride or a snowglobe they can get them, otherwise they can enjoy their visit in peace.