Dinner at the Tropicana

From a letter sent to friends, in late July 2001

Dear Christine,

I swear I saw Marilyn Monroe at the Tropicana last night. She was wearing a white dress and some Kazak fellow in a shiny chrome suit was chasing her. Was it my relief of surviving a week of 14-hour days? Was it the steak the size of a swimming pool I was eating? Was it the fourth gin & tonic? Either way, I'm sure she was there.

The Tropicana is a veritable oasis in an otherwise colourless city. It's something like Bogart's bar in Casablanca, or a grand hotel in Havana before Fidel. Everyone who's anyone is there: bankers, oil men, the boys in black turtlenecks, and assorted other dignitaries. The tablecloths and napkins are of real linen, the china slightly chipped but servicable, and the cutlery clean.

And, there's the floor show. For about 2 hours, an array of clothed, half-clothed and unclothed Kazak nymphs and other interesting people take your mind off your troubles and the sordid world outside: the chrome suit chasing Marilyn, a thick Bulgarian dressed in a Hawaiian shirt & pith helmet belting out oldies and goldies....

Last night I realised that all these years of consulting, all the sleepless nights and the washed-up feeling of too many airport transfers had finally paid off: I had made it into the upper echelons of society - at the Tropicana!

The rest of Almaty seems pale and drab by comparison. The trees are green, and the houses are brown or grey, and there are few cars on the street. The oil money that was supposed to transform this country into the Saudi of Central Asia has yet to appear. The weather was four days of sunshine, and another four days of rain.

The most interesting part of the city is its people. Being here is simply exhilarating: you never know who you're talking with. Kazaks claim to be able to differentiate at least between the three main ethnics groups or clans, but with over a hundred sub-clans or ethnic groups to choose from, who's counting? The full range of features exists from white Russian to Turkish to Korean, Chinese and Mongolian. Everyone speaks Russian, and everyone seems to get along.

Tomorrow we finish some meetings here, and depart for Bishkek by road. I am looking forward to the trip. Somewhere along the way is the mysterious lake of Issy Kul, nestled somewhere in the mountains. We won't have time to stop (surprise surprise), but maybe can see it coming back to Almaty next Sunday.

According to one associate who emailed me last week, Kyrgyzstan is supposed to be the "Switzerland of Central Asia". I can't wait. But even if it doesn't live up to its name, I know that I will always be welcome in Central Asia - at the Tropicana!

Here's looking at you, kid.

Philip