On a recent trip, I met a group of travelers who had visited over 60 countries each. They weren’t just ticking off destinations but comparing experiences—how public transport worked in different cities, the nuances of local etiquette, or the way food changed across borders. What struck me was how they spoke about travel not as a checklist but as a way to absorb the world. One of them, an Indian traveler, mentioned how he no longer cared about hitting an arbitrary number of countries by a certain age. Instead, he focused on staying longer in fewer places, learning bits of the language, and understanding daily life. It was refreshing to hear because travel, at its best, isn’t about stamps on a passport but about how those places leave a mark on you.

There’s a growing trend among Indian travelers to set goals like “30 countries by 30” or “50 before 50.” While having goals isn’t bad, it often turns travel into a race rather than an experience. The people I met had moved past that. They stayed in hostels not just to save money but to meet other travelers and locals. They ate street food not for Instagram but because it was where flavors felt real. One of them mentioned how spending three weeks in a small town in Vietnam taught him more about the country than hopping between five cities in a week ever could. The difference was depth—choosing to engage rather than just pass through.

Travel should influence how you see the world, not just where you’ve been. The best conversations I had with these travelers weren’t about the most beautiful beaches or the tallest buildings but about the small things—how strangers helped them when they were lost, the way a local family shared a meal, or why a particular city’s rhythm felt different. Those are the details that stay with you long after the trip ends. It’s easy to get caught up in counting countries, but the real value comes from letting places change you, even if just a little.

I’ve started to rethink my own approach to travel. Instead of rushing to see everything, I want to slow down and let experiences settle. Meeting those travelers was a reminder that the best journeys aren’t about how far you go but how deeply you let the world in. There will always be more places to see, but the ones that matter are the ones that linger in your mind long after you’ve left.

When traveling in Kazakhstan, one of the most convenient apps I used was Yandex Go. The app offers a slick user interface, high reliability, and excellent availability, making it better than Uber or Ola. What stood out was the affordability—rides were noticeably cheaper than in India, partly due to lower fuel prices but also because of efficient pricing models. The cars were well-maintained, often better than what I’ve experienced with ride-hailing services elsewhere. Beyond taxis, Yandex Go also supports food delivery, competing with other apps like Glovo and Wolt. The seamless integration of multiple services within a single app made it a practical choice for daily needs.

One challenge for non-Russian and non-Kazakh speakers is the language barrier, as most drivers and app interfaces default to Russian or Kazakh. However, Yandex Go’s built-in auto-translate feature worked surprisingly well, allowing smooth communication between riders and drivers. The app also provides clear fare estimates upfront, minimizing surprises. Unlike some ride-hailing platforms that fluctuate prices aggressively during peak hours, Yandex Go maintained reasonable rates, even during high-demand periods. The reliability was consistent—wait times were short, and cancellations were rare, which isn’t always the case with similar services in other countries.

Beyond transportation, Yandex Go’s food delivery service was efficient, with a wide selection of restaurants and quick turnaround times. While Glovo and Wolt are also available in Kazakhstan, Yandex’s integration with its taxi service made it a more versatile option. The app’s design is straightforward, prioritizing functionality over unnecessary features. Payment was hassle-free, supporting both card and cash transactions, which is useful in a country where digital payment adoption is still growing. While Indian cards did not work as they were not compliant with RBI, other cards worked fine. The overall experience was smooth, reinforcing how well-designed regional apps can outperform global giants in their home markets.

For travelers visiting Kazakhstan or other regions where Yandex operates, the app is worth downloading. Its combination of affordability, reliability, and multi-service functionality makes it a strong choice. The language support, while not perfect, is sufficient for basic navigation. Compared to Uber or Ola, Yandex Go felt more optimized for local conditions, offering better cars and more consistent service. If you’re planning a trip to Central Asia, having Yandex Go installed will save time, money, and unnecessary hassle.

During my recent trip to Kazakhstan, I encountered something entirely unexpected – the widespread popularity of Bollywood music. This cultural connection became apparent almost immediately upon my arrival in Almaty. While exploring the city during day tours and rides with Yandex Taxi drivers, I noticed a recurring theme: Hindi film songs playing through car speakers and local establishments. What struck me wasn't just the occasional song but the consistency with which Bollywood music appeared in everyday Kazakh life. In each cab ride, drivers would often have playlists featuring familiar Hindi songs, playing them with an appreciation that suggested more than passing interest. When I asked about their music choices, many drivers shared enthusiastic responses about their fondness for Indian cinema and its soundtracks, revealing a deeper cultural connection than I had anticipated finding in Central Asia.

The musical preferences I encountered reflected a specific era of Bollywood, primarily centered around films starring Shahrukh Khan rather than contemporary releases. These songs from the 1990s and early 2000s seemed to hold particular significance for local listeners. One driver explained that films like "Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge" and "Kuch Kuch Hota Hai" had been immensely popular in Kazakhstan during his youth, with their soundtracks becoming part of the cultural landscape. This wasn't a recent trend but rather a continuation of decades-long appreciation. The music appeared to evoke a sense of nostalgia among many Kazakhs, similar to how certain genres might trigger memories for listeners in other parts of the world. The preference for this specific era of Bollywood music suggests that cultural exports often become frozen in time within receiving countries, preserving the moment when that influence was at its peak.

Perhaps the most surprising encounter came during a ride with an older taxi driver who, upon learning I was from India, excitedly shared his lifelong admiration for Zeenat Aman. He explained how he had grown up watching her films in the 1970s and 1980s, and still considered himself a devoted fan. This conversation revealed the historical depth of Bollywood's reach into Kazakhstan, spanning multiple generations and eras of Indian cinema. The driver recounted how Indian films were among the few foreign entertainment options available during the Soviet era, creating a unique cultural bridge between these geographically distant regions. His enthusiasm wasn't isolated – throughout my stay, I met several people in their 50s and 60s who shared similar stories about growing up with Indian cinema as a window to a different world, long before globalization made international entertainment readily accessible.

This unexpected cultural connection represents a compelling example of India's soft power and its subtle but significant influence across borders. Without formal cultural diplomacy efforts or major commercial investments, Bollywood music has managed to create emotional bonds with audiences thousands of miles away from its origin. What makes this phenomenon particularly interesting is how organic it appears – not the result of marketing campaigns or strategic cultural exports, but rather genuine appreciation that has sustained itself across decades. The persistence of this interest, especially in an age where global entertainment options are abundant, speaks to something distinctive about the appeal of Indian cinema and its music. This musical connection serves as a reminder of how cultural expressions can transcend geographical, linguistic, and political boundaries, creating unexpected points of connection between people with otherwise vastly different daily experiences. The Bollywood soundtrack playing in Almaty taxis represents more than entertainment – it's evidence of how art forms travel, transform, and become integrated into distant cultural contexts in ways their creators might never have imagined.

Media portrayals often paint entire nations with a broad brush, creating perceptions that rarely match reality when we travel and meet people face-to-face. My recent experiences in Kazakhstan challenged many preconceptions I held about Russian people, revealing a warmth and kindness that contradicts common narratives. During my time in Kazakhstan, I encountered several Russians who demonstrated genuine hospitality and a willingness to connect despite language barriers and geopolitical tensions. These interactions serve as important reminders that humanity transcends politics, and personal connections often reveal truths that headlines cannot capture.

One particularly memorable encounter happened during a hike down from Kok Tobe, a mountain overlooking Almaty. As I made our descent, we met Gahlym, a Russian man who stopped his car and offered us a ride for the last kilometer of our journey. Despite neither of us speaking each other's language fluently, we managed to communicate using Google Translate. The conversation was halting but meaningful. What struck me most was something Gahlym said that transcended our linguistic limitations: "We are all human beings. We should help each other in any small way we can, regardless of the violence and war around the world." This simple statement, delivered through the imperfect medium of machine translation, carried profound weight. It demonstrated how ordinary people often hold values that rise above geopolitical conflicts and media portrayals.

This wasn't an isolated incident. Throughout my stay in Kazakhstan, Russians I encountered consistently displayed a helpful nature and genuine curiosity about foreign visitors. In markets, when I struggled to communicate with vendors, Russian shoppers would often step in to translate. At restaurants, Russian patrons at neighboring tables would offer menu recommendations or help explain local customs. These small gestures accumulated into a powerful counternarrative to the often one-dimensional portrayal of Russians in Western media. What became increasingly clear was that the Russian people, like any group, cannot be defined by their government's actions or international headlines. The individuals I met were kind, thoughtful people who valued human connection and exhibited the same fundamental desire to help others that exists across cultures.

The gap between how nations are portrayed in media and the reality of their people is a universal phenomenon that affects how we perceive the world. My experiences in Kazakhstan reminded me that traveling with an open mind allows us to discover the humanity that connects us all. The Russian people I encountered demonstrated that kindness is a universal language that transcends political boundaries and cultural differences. Gahlym's simple act of giving strangers a ride and his profound statement about human connection serve as reminders that beneath headlines and political tensions, people generally share common values and desires. This understanding doesn't diminish real global conflicts or excuse governmental actions, but it does highlight the importance of separating ordinary citizens from the policies of their leaders. As travelers and global citizens, maintaining this distinction allows us to build meaningful connections across cultural divides and recognize our shared humanity.

During my recent visit to Kazakhstan, I had planned to visit the popular Kok Tobe mountain attraction in Almaty, known for its panoramic views of the city. What was intended to be a straightforward tourist experience turned into something much more authentic due to a simple miscommunication. I had booked a Yandex Go taxi to take me to Kok Tobe, expecting to arrive at the cable car station that would transport me to the mountaintop recreation area. Instead, the driver took me directly to Kok Tobe village, a residential area located on the mountainside – not the tourist attraction I had in mind. The driver dropped me off at what appeared to be the highest accessible point by road and when I realized the mistake and asked him to take me back down, he refused. This was notably the only unpleasant interaction I had with a local during my entire stay in Kazakhstan. Standing there, somewhat stranded and initially frustrated, I had to quickly reconsider my options.

This mishap, however, transformed into an unexpected opportunity to experience Kazakhstan beyond the typical tourist perspective. The village of Kok Tobe offered a glimpse into everyday Kazakh life that most visitors never see. The houses were modest, practical structures built along the sloping terrain of the mountain. Children played in yards, residents went about their daily routines, and none of it was staged or modified for tourism. The air was cooler at this elevation, and the silence was notable compared to the city below. As I began walking, I noticed small gardens where residents grew vegetables, clothing hanging to dry in the breeze, and the occasional curious glance from locals probably wondering why a foreigner was wandering through their neighborhood. I started taking a path that seemed to lead downhill, hoping it would eventually connect with a main road where I could find transportation back to the city or to the actual Kok Tobe attraction.

The walk down from the village turned out to be one of the highlights of my trip. The path offered stunning views of Almaty that rivaled those from the official observation deck. I could see the entire city spread out below, with its mix of Soviet-era buildings and modern developments, all against the backdrop of the vast Kazakh steppe extending to the horizon. The snow-capped peaks of the Tien Shan mountains provided a majestic frame to the scene. The trail itself was rugged and clearly not maintained for tourists – rocks, occasional mud patches, and wild vegetation lined the way. I passed a few local residents who nodded politely but seemed unsurprised by my presence. After about thirty minutes of hiking, I reached a road where I was able to get another taxi to take me to the actual Kok Tobe cable car station. The driver of this second taxi was friendly and curious about how I had ended up in the village, and we chatted about Kazakhstan and its rapid development in recent years.

When I finally reached the official Kok Tobe recreation area, with its restaurants, souvenir shops, and amusement rides, it felt notably different from the village I had just left. While the tourist area was well-maintained and offered excellent views and facilities, it lacked the authenticity of my accidental detour. Tourists from various countries posed for photos with the Beatles sculpture, rode the Ferris wheel, and browsed through souvenirs. The contrast between this sanitized tourist experience and my walk through the actual village was striking. Looking back, that miscommunication with the Yandex driver led to a much more memorable and genuine experience than I would have had otherwise. It reminded me that sometimes travel mishaps can become the most valuable parts of a journey. By accidentally stepping off the tourist path, I was able to see Kazakhstan not just as a destination but as a place where people live their everyday lives, far removed from the curated experiences designed for visitors. The unexpected hike showed me both the physical landscape and the human landscape of Kazakhstan in ways that a standard tour never could have.

Almaty, Kazakhstan's largest city, offers numerous parks that serve as peaceful retreats from urban life. The city's parks system includes several notable green spaces, each with its own character and appeal. The First President's Park, opened in 2011, spans a large area in the southern part of the city and features wide walking paths, ornamental gardens, and impressive water features. This park is known for its orderly design and careful landscaping, making it ideal for those seeking a quiet walk or a place for reflection. The park honors the first president of Kazakhstan and includes symbolic elements throughout its design. The park's elevation provides good views of the city and the mountains beyond, making it popular with both locals and visitors who want to experience the natural setting while remaining close to urban amenities.

The Botanical Garden of Almaty offers a different experience, focusing on plant diversity and scientific collections. Established in 1932, this scientific and educational institution houses thousands of plant species from around the world, organized into sections that represent different ecosystems and regions. Walking through the Botanical Garden allows visitors to observe plants from various climates and learn about botany and conservation efforts. The garden includes specialized areas such as the rose garden, conifer collection, and sections dedicated to Central Asian flora. Paths wind through these collections, creating a natural setting where people can observe seasonal changes in the plant life. The garden serves as both a recreational space and a research facility, contributing to plant conservation and botanical studies while offering a peaceful environment for visitors.

Central Park, also known as Gorky Park, provides a more active and family-oriented environment. This park, located near the city center, features playgrounds, amusement rides, and recreational facilities that make it particularly appealing to families with children. The park combines natural elements with entertainment options, creating a space where visitors can enjoy both outdoor activities and amusements. Food vendors and small cafes throughout the park allow visitors to spend extended time there. The park's layout includes open areas for games and gatherings, shaded sections for relaxation, and designated activity zones. During weekends, the park becomes especially busy with families and young people looking for entertainment and social interaction, creating a community atmosphere that contrasts with the more serene environment of other parks in the city.

The March festival period brings additional life to these parks and the city as a whole. During this time, which marks the beginning of spring, the parks host cultural events, performances, and special activities that celebrate the changing season. Walking through Almaty during the festival period allows visitors to experience both the natural elements of the parks and the cultural aspects of local celebrations. The parks become meeting places where people gather to participate in traditional activities and observe performances. The pleasant weather during this time makes outdoor experiences more enjoyable, encouraging people to spend time in public spaces and engage with community events. This combination of natural settings and cultural activities creates a balanced experience that showcases both the environmental features and social aspects of the city, making spring an ideal time to explore Almaty's parks and public spaces.

Shymbulak Ski Resort offers an incredible experience at high altitudes, reaching up to 3,200 meters. The journey to the top, via the cable car, is an experience in itself, especially when thick snowfall blankets the landscape. The ascent feels surreal, as the gondola glides through an almost endless expanse of white, the silence only broken by the occasional gusts of wind. The snowfall during our visit was heavy, transforming the slopes into a pristine winter paradise. Watching seasoned skiers carve through the powder with effortless precision made me wonder what it would take to learn the sport myself. The sheer number of people skiing on different slopes was fascinating, from beginners cautiously making their way down to experts flying past with perfect control. The infrastructure of Shymbulak is impressive, with well-maintained trails, multiple chairlifts, and a ski rental service that seems well-equipped for all levels of skiers.

The moment I stepped out of the cable car at the higher altitudes, the crisp air and the panoramic view made me pause. The ski slopes stretched out into the distance, and the sight of people navigating the descents effortlessly added to the appeal of trying the sport. The altitude, though noticeable, did not feel overwhelming, and moving around at that height was manageable. For someone who has never skied before, the initial hesitation was replaced by curiosity, seeing how structured the learning process seemed. The resort’s facilities cater to beginners, offering training sessions and equipment rentals. If I ever decide to learn skiing, Shymbulak would be my first choice, given its reputation and accessibility. The thought of spending a few days here, acclimating to the sport and improving gradually, feels like an interesting challenge to take on. The availability of experienced instructors and a range of beginner-friendly slopes makes it a practical place to start learning without feeling out of depth.

After descending back to the base, stopping at Paul for a break made the experience even better. Sitting inside the warm cafe, sipping hot chocolate, and watching the snowfall through the large windows added a comforting end to the day. The contrast between the freezing temperatures outside and the warmth inside made the hot chocolate taste even better. The crowd at the cafe was a mix of exhausted skiers taking a break, groups discussing their runs, and visitors like me simply enjoying the atmosphere. The service was efficient, and the variety of options on the menu provided a good selection for a quick meal before heading out again. The resort, despite being packed, maintained a sense of organization, and getting around was relatively easy. Shymbulak manages to balance the energy of a busy ski resort with enough space for visitors to enjoy the scenery without feeling overwhelmed.

If I were to plan a ski trip, this would undoubtedly be the place I’d consider for my first experience. The combination of high-altitude skiing, a well-managed resort, and the stunning surroundings makes it a strong contender. While skiing is something I have yet to try, Shymbulak’s appeal is undeniable. The accessibility from Almaty, the quality of the slopes, and the availability of lessons make it an ideal destination for beginners. Spending a few days here would be a great way to immerse myself in the sport while also enjoying the environment. Even for those who do not ski, simply experiencing the cable car ride and the atmosphere at the top is worth the visit. Shymbulak is not just about skiing; it is about being in a place that makes you want to try something new, step out of your comfort zone, and take in the experience fully.

Kaindy Lake in Almaty is unlike any other place I have hiked to. The journey itself is something that stays with you long after you leave, not just because of the lake but because of the sheer experience of getting there. The 2-kilometer hike to the lake is surreal, set against a backdrop of snow-clad mountains that feel both untouched and safe. There are few places where nature feels this still, where the silence is only broken by the sound of your own footsteps crunching against the snow. It is a quiet kind of beauty, one that does not demand attention but holds it effortlessly. The path is not overly difficult, but the sense of isolation and the crisp air make it feel like stepping into another world. Unlike other hikes where the journey often overshadows the destination, here both are equally memorable.

Kaindy Lake itself is what makes this entire experience worth the effort. The moment you see the trees rising from the water, you realize why this place is special. Submerged yet standing tall, the remnants of a once-dense forest create an eerie but fascinating sight. The water, partially frozen in winter, hides and reveals the trees in a way that feels almost unreal. It is not just the lake’s appearance that makes it unique, but the feeling it creates when you stand there, looking at something that has existed this way for decades. Unlike many other natural sights that are altered or eroded over time, Kaindy Lake has remained, its sunken forest a reminder of the flood that created it. The stillness of the water, the frozen air, and the way the trees disappear into the depths make it one of those places that do not just exist in memory but in feeling.

The hike back carries the same weight as the arrival. Often, when leaving a place, there is a sense of closure, a finality that comes with retracing your steps. Here, that does not happen. The walk back through the snow feels just as surreal, as if the experience is not ready to let go of you yet. There is something about the contrast between the cold air and the warmth of exertion, the emptiness of the trail, and the overwhelming presence of the landscape that keeps you engaged. Even after reaching the starting point, the images of the lake and the trail stay fresh, not just as visual memories but as something deeper. Few hikes feel this complete—where both the path and the destination hold equal value.

Kaindy Lake is not just another scenic spot; it is an experience. It is one of those rare places where the effort to reach it does not feel like a challenge but a necessary part of the journey. The lake’s existence, with its submerged trees and undisturbed presence, makes it one of the most unique places to visit. Unlike more famous destinations where expectations often outweigh reality, this place delivers exactly what it promises. The quiet, the snow-covered trail, the safe but isolated hike, and the lake itself make it worth every step. For anyone considering visiting, it is not just about seeing the lake but experiencing the journey that leads to it.

Almaty has a certain stillness in its streets that makes walking through its parks a different experience from the rush of modern cities. Panfilov Park, located in the heart of the city, is one of those places where the pace slows down naturally. The wide pathways lined with tall trees provide enough shade even on the sunniest days. The sound of leaves rustling and occasional chatter from park visitors add to the quiet rhythm of the place. Walking here does not feel hurried; it allows for an unstructured experience where one can observe without an agenda. People sit on benches, either lost in their thoughts or speaking in hushed tones. Families stroll past, children stopping briefly to inspect something interesting on the ground. The park is large enough to make it easy to find a quiet corner but not so vast that it feels empty.

The Ascension Cathedral stands at the center of the park, its pale yellow and white structure contrasting against the greenery. Built entirely of wood, the cathedral is impressive in its design, managing to stand tall without the use of metal nails. Its historical significance is well-known, having survived earthquakes that have reshaped the city over the years. Some visitors step inside for a quiet moment, lighting candles and offering prayers, while others observe its structure from the outside. The exterior, with intricate detailing, draws attention without being excessive. For those who have little interest in religious spaces, the building still serves as an architectural curiosity, standing as a reminder of a different time in Almaty's past. The cathedral does not feel imposing but rather blends into the park naturally, making it easy to pass by without feeling the need to linger.

Walking further into the park, past the cathedral, the space opens up to statues and memorials dedicated to history. The Panfilov division, which fought in World War II, is commemorated with sculptures and plaques. Some people stop to read them, while others barely glance before continuing their walk. The presence of these historical markers does not disrupt the park's calm but adds another layer to it. In the background, vendors sell small snacks and drinks, and the occasional cyclist weaves through the pathways. The atmosphere remains undisturbed despite the movement. The city’s noise is distant, never fully reaching inside, making it easy to feel detached from the rest of Almaty while still being in its center.

Spending time in Panfilov Park does not require a plan. It is a place that allows for aimless wandering, whether to appreciate the trees, observe people, or take a brief pause from the day. The walk is neither demanding nor dull, striking a balance that makes it easy to lose track of time without feeling unproductive. The benches scattered across the park invite people to sit without urgency. Some look at their phones, some read, and others simply sit in silence. The presence of the cathedral and war memorials adds meaning to the walk without making it feel like a history lesson. The park holds layers of time within its space, making it an interesting yet relaxing part of Almaty’s daily life.

I am beginning a six-day trip to Kazakhstan, with Almaty as my base. This will be my first visit to the country, and I am looking forward to experiencing its unique blend of natural beauty, urban energy, and cultural depth. Kazakhstan is often overlooked as a travel destination, but its vast landscapes, from the Tian Shan mountains to alpine lakes, make it one of Central Asia’s most intriguing places. While the country has been humorously misrepresented in global media before, the reality is far more compelling—a nation with deep history, welcoming people, and stunning geography.

Almaty sits at the foot of the Zailiysky Alatau range, offering easy access to nature while maintaining a modern, dynamic atmosphere. The weather this time of year is cool and crisp, ideal for hiking in the nearby mountains or exploring the city’s parks and tree-lined boulevards. I plan to visit Big Almaty Lake, Charyn Canyon, and possibly the Kolsai Lakes, all known for their breathtaking scenery. The contrast between Almaty’s urban life and the untouched wilderness just outside the city is something I’m eager to see firsthand.

Kazakhstan’s culture is another aspect I find fascinating—a mix of nomadic traditions and contemporary influences. The cuisine, with its emphasis on meat, dairy, and hearty dishes, reflects the country’s pastoral roots. I’m curious to try beshbarmak, kazy, and other local specialties, as well as see how Almaty’s café culture blends with its Central Asian identity. The city’s Soviet-era architecture, alongside newer developments, adds another layer to its character.

This trip is a chance to experience a country that surprises many first-time visitors. Kazakhstan is not just a crossroads between Europe and Asia—it’s a destination with its own distinct appeal. The landscapes alone make it worth visiting, but the warmth of the people and the richness of daily life are what I’m most interested in observing. Six days may not be enough to see everything, but it will certainly give me a strong introduction. I’ll share more once I’ve explored further.