This article is taken from the November 2024 issue of The Critic. To get the full magazine why not subscribe? Right now we’re offering five issues for just £10.

The ruins of Xanadu, Kublai’s capital and inspiration for Coleridge’s dream poem, may lie many miles to the east of Kazakhstan, but the land that bore witness to the great ruler’s armies and its legion of followers, which was once the dominion of the Ulug Ulus, now plays host to pleasure palaces truly fit for a Khan.

For more than a millennium, the khanates that comprise contemporary Kazakhstan were the plains across which civilisations swept. Alexander marched his Macedonians over them weeping, wrote Plutarch, when he saw the breadth of his domain. Genghis Khan led his horsemen westward, cutting a swathe across the Steppe unto the very gates of Europe. In both directions there trekked the merchants of the caravanserais, travelling from inn to inn along the great Silk Road — Marco Polo amongst them — trading their wares. In so doing they spread culture and cultivation across the vast expanse of territory, encompassing four climatic zones: forest, steppe, mountain and desert.

Notwithstanding their fierce forebears, the Kazakhs — a people proud of their nomadic history — are immensely hospitable. Kazakhstan is a place where cultures and creeds collide comfortably in what might be seen as a model community. The administrative seat of power, Astana, which rose from the bare plain just 30 years ago, is now home to a million souls, their mosques, cathedrals and some very exclusive hotels.

Its shiny new airport will shortly be connected by monorail to a city centre blending modern design with traditional Mongol themes. This arresting aspect owes much to the vision of Japanese architect Kisho Kurokawa, as well as to a bevy of European draughtsmen. The broad central mall connecting the Kazakh “White House” with Norman Foster’s Khan Shatyr Centre, reminiscent of Washington, is peaceful, pedestrianised and populated by some excellent bars and restaurants which complement the public edifices.

For those seeking steak, by which I mean the local equivalent of Wagyu beef, then Line Brew on Kenesary Street is worth visiting. For the more intrepid, particularly those happy to think of horses not as friend but food, there is Ali Barbar on Bukeikhan Street. There you can sample another equine speciality, fermented horse milk (kumis), which to my tongue at least tastes weirdly like fizzy whisky.

It is in places such as Almaty, the ancient capital, that Kazakh culture, cuisine and camaraderie come together in today’s conception of Kublai Khan’s playground. Almaty is beautiful, nestling in the Trans-Ili Alatau foothills of the Tian Shan mountain range. Here you can ski the snow-capped peaks, swim in topaz blue lakes, climb in the Tugen Gorge or picnic lazily in Panfilov Park. It is a city of harmony.

Not far away, in the Charyn National Park, the landscape challenges the Grand Canyon for rocky majesty. As one of the most sparsely populated places on earth, you can spend days without having any connection with humanity. In a world where the internet spies on us, work imposes relentlessly, and cohorts of petty officials snoop, pry and tell us what to do, Kazakhstan is perhaps the ultimate destination to escape (albeit briefly) some of the least attractive aspects of our century.

The travel firm Black Tomato is the kind of outfit that might find Kazakhstan intriguing for its adventurous clientele. For those with more modest pockets, Kazakhstan offers both unspoilt landscapes and uninflated charges: prices are usually about one third of our own.

Direct flights courtesy of Air Astana, one of the best and least-known airlines, depart from Heathrow. If this winter you are planning your deluxe getaway for 2025, you might spare a thought to the land of the Golden Horde, now the land of the golden sun, and spend summer on Kazakhstan’s Silk Road.