KZBlog

Reading through Wide Open Spaces’ list of cultural tidbits from Kazakhstan, I was reminded of a paradox of sorts that has always sort of bothered me. On the one hand Kazakhs pride themselves on their hospitality. Anyone who has been a guest in a Kazakh (or Kazakhstani as hospitality for guests seems to be a national trait) home can attest to the mountains of food and fountains of drink, not to mention the gifts, and the small things done to make guests comfortable. I remember once the mother of a colleague at work had bought instant coffee for the first time in her life because she had heard that Americans prefer coffee. I had to make it for myself because she didn’t even know what to do with it. But she was willing to make the effort to get it for me (And instant coffee is much more expensive than tea in Kazakhstan).

On the other hand, visitors to Kazakhstan also note the brusqueness or even rudeness of people outside the home. Customer service is lacking and it’s not uncommon to be pushed and shoved on the street or to be ignored if you ask a stranger the time. I won’t start with the discourteous behavior in lines.

But it was really brought home to me the other day when I got a flat tire during a snowstorm. To keep my hat on my head while I was jacking up the car, I had to ram it down below my ears. As I was jacking the car up, and having trouble because the ice and snow was making it keep the car level, I heard an odd noise. Figuring it was the wind, I kept winding the jack. After a bit, I felt someone pound my shoulder. I turned to find a red-faced guy in a nice suit shouting something. I pulled my hat up to hear him better and he shouted, “Hey, where’s the cafe here?” I told him I didn’t know and he gave me a diatribe about how he’d been shouting at me for five minutes and what was wrong with me not to hear him and make him get out of his car in the snow and wind and then not know where the cafe was. I hadn’t been expecting a bit of roadside assistance, but the sheer self-centeredness of his rant really made me wonder where the famous hospitality was.

Obviously this was an extreme example and things like that happen all over the world. However, it did bring home the paradox that if I was one of the people he was meeting at that cafe, I’d probably have been treated to ten salads, two main courses and a bottomless glass of vodka and then he’d pick up the check without question.