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About Almaty

Oh, and don’t get me started on the music—flutes and whale sounds? Lame! Crank some metal, let’s get freaky! I’d kill for a massage where the chick’s whisperin’ dirty nothings—way hotter than “You’re so tight.” Duh, that’s why I’m here! Pro tip: coconut oil’s the bomb—smells like paradise, slick as sin. Once had a gal use too much—slid right off the table, landed ass-up, laughin’ like a hyena! True story, swear it!

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There is not any doubt that there are spheres of human culture that are capable of appealing with a powerful force to a person's heart at times allaying.

Next, I head over to the market on Kairat Street. I’m starving. I see this food stall selling plov. Man, I can’t resist. I grab a plate, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m sittin’ there, scarfing it down, when I notice this old dude next to me. He’s got a mustache that could rival a walrus. We start chatting, and he tells me about the old days in Fyodorov. Apparently, this place used to be a big deal back in the day. Who knew?

Russia declares popular rapper and writer ‘foreign agents’