A walk along the coast of the Caspian Sea, Aktau.
Mangystau, Kazakhstan chapter oneThe last time I had seen the Caspian Sea I had stood on its western shores.
I had arrived in the Azerbaijani capital of Baku after a series of buses and taxis from western Georgia in the small hours of the morning, napping outside a metro station waiting for it to open before I could search for a hotel in the city. Then, I had never imagined I would next stand on its eastern shores and gaze out over its vast expanse from Aktau in western Kazakhstan. Then, I hadn’t imagined I’d spend a month in Kazakhstan at all.
I arrive just before midnight from Almaty. I had managed to sleep most of the flight, waking up for meal service and in time for the landing annoucements. The passengers beside me had fallen into a conversation after a shared laugh over something I didn’t understand. They chatted until we landed; I think they had started talking about sharing a cab into the city and I’d like to think they had made a love connection.
My bag is already on the belt (one of two) by the time I reach baggage claim. I pick it up and head to the exit where a small phalanx of drivers offer taxi services into the city. I say thank you but continue out of the airport and to the curb, walking beyond them until I can order a Yandex Go to my hotel.
Kuanysh asks me where I’m from and when I tell him he shouts out, 50 Cent! He fiddles with YouTube on his dashboard and after playing a Kane Victor track finds Dr. Dre’s Super Bowl LVI halftime show. I had forgotten Mary J. Blige had been a part of the show and I’m thrilled to relive it on the ride from the airport.
Anwar checks me into the hotel, surprisingly cheery for the late hour. I thank him and take the key and the elevator to the third floor where I find my room all the way in the back. I shower and wash my clothes, and climb into bed.
My guide has written to warn me about how cold it can be out on the steppes and in the morning I decide to see if I can find an inexpensive fleece and long johns to augment the clothing I’ve brought. I hadn’t thought I’d need much more but her words scare me into action.
It’s a blustery day and I’m slow to get up. Google Maps directs me to a discount Turkish retailer a few blocks away, but I can’t find it. I should have double-checked the address against Yandex to make sure, but I’m still not in the habit even after three weeks in country.
There’s a mall across the avenue and I head there to see what I might be able to find. I’m also looking for a linen suit to complement the Indian outfit I have brought for a wedding I’m to attend in Portugal. It’s Indian attire encourged for the ceremony, but I don’t have cocktail attire for the welcome drinks scheduled the night before.
I don’t find anything that’s quite right and in the price range I’m hoping to spend (for the fleece or the suit) and leave empty handed. It’s nearing lunchtime and so I head out and hire a cab to Aidyn, a restaurant I’ve found recommended by Reddit, which offers fishbarmak, a seafood version of the national dish.
The restaurant is empty; I’m the first patron of the day. On arriving I thought it was closed, but after descending the steps towards the sea I found an open door. The waitstaff lounge about on their phones, lying in the banquets when I arrive. The host waves an arm over the deserted dining room. I can sit where I like. A woman comes out of the kitchen and yells at them. The waiters snap to attention and make themselves busy.
Beshbarmak generally consists of boiled meat, handmade noodles, and a savory onion broth. The name means "five fingers" in Turkic languages, which speaks to the traditional custom of eating it directly with one's hands. The fishbarmak substitutes the meat for fish, coming with flat square noodles the size of a lasagna sheet. It’s an incredibly filling dish and it proves to be too much for me to finish on my own.
After lunch I try to take the stairs down to the Naberezhnaya Aktau, a promenade that runs along the Sea. Unfortunately, a gate bars me from reaching it. I walk into another part of the restaurant, hoping there’s an exit out the other way but a waiter tells me I have to head back up to the street and walk down to a parking lot to gain access.
The sea is beautiful, steelyblue under bluegrey skies. Tankers float by in the distance. I’d planned to walk a little bit and then take a taxi down to Skal'naya Tropa, a ‘hiking area’ that rounds a small point in the southwest corner of the city, but the promendate continues to serve up squares and other sights that keep me engaged. And so I continue walking south, heading off the path once to walk to the edge of the shore to touch the surface of the sea.
I walk past broad parks dotted with sculptures, some depicting historical and political scenes, others representing musical instruments, the latter a gift to the city to celebrate it’s 55th anniversary.
Continuing on I pass a heart-shaped arch that looks like it was designed for the ’gram. A group of sculptures carved from Mangystau limestone by Serhii Sbitniev dot the plaza just beyond. Installed as part of a 2018 sculpture symposium, they stand watch, backs to the sea.
While walking I look to my left at the buildings that have been constructed alongside the sea. Newer buildings boast terraces and beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows facing the Caspian while older apartment buildings look like concrete blocks, the windows small. HVAC units dot the façade in front of each apartment.
The path ends at a tiled square jutting out to the sea. An “I ❤️ Aktau” sculpture anchors the southern end. There’s a sandy path that leads out towards the beach and I head off in that direction. A sign calls out the work of the Caspian Seal Research and Rehabilitation Center, offering instructions on what to do if a sick seal or pup is found. Fortunately, I find no sick seals; unfortunately I see no seals at all.
The path along the sand runs through a marshy area and I pick my way carefully so as not to soak my shoes. Looking further down the coast, it’s unclear how dry the walk will be and so I turn inland to make my way south on the road that runs alongside the shore. Restaurants and bars line the coastal side, in various states of readiness for the summer.
At the end of the road I continue on along a footpath that continues on south. I pass the Park Atraktsionov, a small amusement park that’s waiting for the season to start. A boy runs around the shuttered rides followed my his mom. A woman rustles about the concessions stand, checking inventory in preparation for the coming summer.
The boy rides his scooter up and out from the amusement park, his mother trailing behind. I let myself out and keep walking with the sea on my right. The asphalt runs right up against a rocky section of the shore and I can see people walking towards me on the uneven surface. Looking north it appears as though I could have easily continued walking, hugging the beach rather than turning inland, but I’m happy to have come across the amusement park and am happy to have followed my initial instincts.
Soon, I reach the Skal'naya Tropa, a cliffside walkway that I had set as my original destination. I’m glad I walked all the way down from the restaurant rather than taking a cab, partially for the exercise, and partially for what I have managed to have seen along the way.
A pier juts out into the sea and I walk out to the end. Two men fish cast lines out towards the horizon; one seems to be teaching the other. The one teaching has a small bucket of fish by his feet.
The walk follows a dramatic portion of the coast, with the cliffs to one side and the sea on the other. The walk climbs up and around the rocky edge, at one point offering a path that leads through a small passageway through the rocks. Water drips from overhead and along one side of the cave as I make my way through. On the other side I can see people taking the higher path above me.
Reaching the end of the path I climb a set of stairs to a viewpoint overlooking the sea. It’s the world’s largest inland body of water and it’s hard to believe it’s self-contained, though the water reaches towards the horizon and beyond.
I keep climbing up to the city level in search of Aroma Coffee, which I’ve seen rated highly on the internet. A couple are taking engagement photos under a canopy of suspended umbrellas. As I reach the parking area a small family parks and unloads, taking with them items for an afternoon at the beach.
I walk back down the stairs and to a harbor just off to the side. I stroll along the docks past larger commercial boats offering tours of the sea and smaller cruisers until I reach Te Quiero, a coffee shop with 270° views of the sea. I order a coffee and am lucky to grab a seat on the corner of the small terrace.
I linger over my coffee, watching birds float on the surface of the sea, various tourist boats depart and return to harbor. It’s still early in the season and the boats are infrequent nd sparesely occupied. I wonder what it’s like in the summer.
A group of women arrive and I surrender my seat to them, retreating to the stairs and climb them once again. I walk to a main road and stop in front of the Melovoy Lighthouse, built in 1974 atop a residential building. It’s a very distinctive piece of architecture, the base striped red and white creating a visual separation from the building that acts as its support.
I plan to take a taxi back to the center but end up continuing my walk, through a residential area to the Ploshchad' “Astana.” A bronze replica of Christopher Columbus's flagship, La Santa Maria sits in the center, serving as a monument to the maritime legacy of this local port.
I continue walking down the broad avenu микрайон, past the Abay Cultural Palace (named after the Kazakh poet and philosopher) to the Shum Shopping Centre. I’m still looking for a linen suit for the wedding, but continue to be unsuccessful.
At the supermarket I buy some snacks for the road and some fruit for breakfast before heading back to the hotel. Along the way I admire the huge frescos adorning a series of buildings along the way. The closest to the street shows Khiuaz Dospanova, the first Kazakh woman pilot of the “Night Witches” and Hero of the Soviet Union. Behind her Manshuk Mametova, a machine gunner during World War II and the first Kazakh woman to be awarded the title Hero of the Soviet Union, peeks out from an orange background. I wish that I could find a pack of postcards that would depict all of the portraits that I’ve seen hanging around the city.
Passing the Eternal Flame World War II Memorial, I stop to pay my respects to those who have sacrificed themselves and those who have been sacrificed on the Eastern Front. Built like an an open yurt—symbolizing home, unity, and shelter—the five panels each represent a year of the war and features a sculpture honoring the history of the fallen.
Back at the hotel I spend a little time working. The guide texts me to confirm tomorrow’s pick up time. “Hello Eugene, how are you? Are you ready for tomorrow’s trip? I hope you have warm clothes and thermal underwear with you, because it will be colder in the steppe than in the city, especially at night.”
I admit that I have only a bunch of layers and ask her where I might find a cheap fleece. She tells me I should check out Sinsay. I can type it into 2gis and see their locations. Fortunately, there’s one in the mall down the street. Somehow I had totally missed it.
I walk back to the mall and pick out a waffle jacket and sweatpants that fit under my pants. They’re both on sale and when I send a photo to my cousin she tells me I look like a Russian gangster in my sweatsuit. It’s perfect. And even if it’s too much for the quasi-camping trip I’m about to embark upon, I imagine they’ll come in handy for the horse trek I’m planning on doing to the high-mountain Song Kul lake in Kyrgyzstan in a few weeks’ time.
I walk back to the hotel and have dinner in the attached cafe: a club sandwich and sea buckthorn tea, a waffle with fruit and ice cream for dessert. It’s somehow exactly what I want and as I linger over the tea I try to imagine what the next few days will bring. I don’t even come close.
28 April 2026