Unlike our time in Southeast Asia this past May, where we were pleasantly surprised by several examples of our favorite architectural styles in Phnom Penh, I knew leading up to our Central Asia trip that Almaty and Bishkek would be tremendous places for modernist/brutalist architecture spotting and photography. Thanks to several books I’ve collected over the years and some mildly creepy Instagram stalking, I already knew the places I wanted to see in both cities. I’ve always been particularly captivated by Soviet Wedding Palaces, and prior to this trip we’d seen some great examples, most notably being those in Tbilisi, Georgia and Vilnius, Lithuania. And while not much has been written (in English, anyway) on Almaty’s Wedding Palace, Bishkek’s Wedding Palace has been well documented all over the internet – particularly well by this post by Cooper Thomas, a former Bishkek expat.

Wedding Palaces served a very interesting role in Soviet society – a role which continues today in many post-Soviet nations: to gather information, making sure every couple is properly registered. It seems like the actual ceremony plays second fiddle to the act of registering itself. Despite this, it appears that weddings in the post-Soviet world have adapted to incorporate the more conspicuous displays of wealth commonplace in American weddings. The weddings held in these Wedding Palaces aren’t traditional to the region – contracts between families and festivities that usually linger for weeks – but instead more closely mimic their Western counterparts. Official documents are signed, then couples are whisked off in a fancy car, often back to everyday life.

It was without this historical and cultural primer that we, on our last day in Almaty, ventured out to the location of what I consider the holy trinity of Almaty modernism: Three buildings, clustered closely together, right off the Auezov Theater metro stop in the Koktem-3 Microraion. I’ll talk about the other two buildings, the Kazakh State Circus and Auezov Theater, in a later post, because I’m trying to keep in theme here.



Of the three buildings of Almaty’s holy trinity, the Wedding Palace is perhaps the most unassuming. It’s a building in the shape of a perfect circle, with ornate ironwork wrapping around the building’s upper tier, resting on floor to ceiling windows (maybe due for a cleaning, but I won’t judge), on the rectangular bottom level. The building is located across a slough from the Auezov Theater, and atop a small verdant hill. When we visited the vertical shades were drawn and the doors closed, and it appeared rather uninviting. But, as I typically do when visiting buildings I’ve long fantasized about, I barreled my way through the front doors with David and our travel buddy, Helmut, and whipped out my camera, ready to play dumb American.



We were met by some strange gazes from the surly Russian-Kazakh gatekeeper when we entered, and I uttered in my best four-year-old Russian that I was an architecture student, and I’d love the opportunity to take some pictures. Literally, it was probably more like “I architecture student, pictures OK?” but I think I got my message across, as the man somewhat reluctantly ushered us through the lobby of the building. I couldn’t help but giggle as that scene from “The Lion King” where Timon and Pumba sang “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” was playing on the 1990’s era TVs around the lobby – dubbed into Russian, naturally.



The interior of the “chapel” – for lack of a better word – wasn’t quite as grandiose as I was expecting, but didn’t lack that Soviet-style gaudy charm that I love so much. Marble (probably not) columns, a blue cloudy sky painted overhead, and a gold trimmed runner led to a staircase, something we’d find in Bishkek as well, that led to some sort of inner sanctum. What lay in the inner sanctum would remain a mystery, or perhaps another reason to return?



And then outside the building, less than a block away, lay this rainbow delight for David and I to take a picture under. So kind for them to think of the LGBT couples as well! (I jest, of course)

Please also take note of David’s bucket cap. Apparently they’re happening again.



Two days after this, exploring on Bishkek on foot, we arrived to Bishkek’s answer to Almaty’s Wedding Palace. The Bishkek Wedding Palace was far more outwardly ornate and ostentatious, made conspicuously more so by the gaggle of stretch Hummers and other cars meant only for an overt display of wealth haphazardly strewn in its front parking lot. The building itself was more angular and representative of the Soviet Modernist style, with tall vertical windows resembling gems aligning the entrance in purposeful symmetry.



We entered with our friend, Jyldyz (Jyl for short), introduced to us by my fellow misanthropic blogger, Megan Starr, and were greeted with similar skeptical stares as we had in Almaty. Shameless per usual, I got out my camera and started my normal routine, not knowing how much time I’d have before being told to put it away. Interestingly enough, it took a little time, and when we were reprimanded it gave us the opportunity to experience some Post-Soviet bureaucracy.



“If you want to take pictures inside, you must get permission from the office,” we were told. So to the office we went, where we were then told we were at the wrong office. And to the next office we went. Rinse and repeat a couple more times and Jyl told us, “Maybe you should just not be so obvious when you take pictures.”



And so was our game for the rest of our time in Bishkek’s Wedding Palace. Everywhere we turned there were beautiful examples of stained glass in traditional Kyrgyz patterns, more typically found on a felt or inside a yurt. We lingered for a bit, made note of the similar staircase to an inner room as we had found in Almaty (is that where the marriage is consummated?), and then made haste to an Uzbek halal restaurant for lunch. All the talk of weddings had clearly stressed us out, and what better way to recover than to eat one’s feelings. We are American, after all.

The Almaty Wedding Palace is located directly east from the Auezov Theater, and northeast of the Kazakh State circus. To get there, take the metro to the Auezov theater station, and orient yourself in one of the station’s subway maps. Take note, there are metal detectors in every Almaty subway station – we learned the hard way. David carries a pocketknife wherever he goes, and we were initially turned away. But, as is common in developing parts of the world, a little pleading goes a long way, and we were able to ride regardless. As you exit the subway, the building is obscured by trees, so you’ll have to get close to the building before it reveals itself to you. I heartily recommend our strategy of baby-Russian and confused looks if you want the chance to explore inside a bit.



The Bishkek Wedding Palace is in the heart of the city, directly behind the Kyrgyz State Circus (to the north). There was a flurry of activity there the day we went, making it slightly easier to be inconspicuous. Some other great buildings in the vicinity to gawk at include the Circus, National Library, and the Gapar Aitiev Fine Arts Museum. I heartily recommend gypsy cabs in Bishkek. We never had to wait more than a couple minutes for one – most often a car would pull up to us, asking if we needed a ride, even before we had the chance to raise our arms to hail them. We stayed in the southern part of the city, near Ata Turk Park, and never paid more than 150 som (about $2) to get to the city center.

