of prosperity and progress.
Alma Ata, until a few years ago a smaller town than Semipalatinsk, owes its development almost entirely to the Turksib Railway which has linked it up with the rest of the Soviet Union. Before the Revolution the population was approximately 30,000; in 1929, before the railway reached it, it was 50,000 and now seven years after the construction of the Turksib, it had reached the figure of 230,000.
The population of Kazakhstan of which it is the capital and, which in 1936 became a Union Republic, is only about eight millions, but in area it is approximately equivalent to England, France and Germany put together. Its economic importance is principally agricultural and in the immediate neighbourhood of Alma Ata the country seemed remarkably fertile, producing Indian corn, cotton, wheat and rice and sugar beet besides the apples for which it is famous and other kinds of fruit. It is also the most important cattle-breeding area in the Soviet Union.
On arrival at Alma Ata I immediately set out in search of somewhereto live. I was attracted by what I had seen of the town and its immediate surroundings and I was also determined to see something of the Ala Tau, the portion of the Tien Shan range which lies immediately to the south. From what I knew of Soviet methods it would be several days before I even found out what means existed of getting up into the mountains.
I had ascertained on arriving that there were two hotels, both of recent construction. One was known as the Ogpu Hotel because of its proximity to N.K.V.D. Headquarters and the other, which formed part of the central block of Government buildings, was called the Dom Sovietov or House of the Soviets. At both I was told on applying for accommodation that they were completely full, the management of the Dom Sovietov adding that even if they had had room they would not have given it to me as they only catered for Government and Party officials travelling on official business.
Emboldened by my experience at Sverdlovsk I decided that the time had come to invoke the help of the N.K.V.D. At N.K.V.D. Headquarters I was told that the competent officer was out but would be back in two hours, and on returning two hours later, I found no one except an apparently half-witted Kazakh sentry from whom I gathered that Headquarters had shut down for the night. My own N.K.V.D. escort had no suggestions to offer and seemed in some doubt as to where they were going to spend the night themselves. The immediate outlook was scarcely promising, but before resigning myself to the prospect of a night on the streets, I decided to go back to the Dom Sovietov, which had seemed to me in every way preferable to the ordinary hotel, and see whether I could not by sheer persistence make the management relent. I accordingly deposited my luggage in the front hall and fought my way through the crowd surrounding the booking desk. An hour later, although the management showed no signs of weakening as far as sleeping accommodation was concerned, I had succeeded in securing permission to have supper in the hotel dining-room, a success of which I hastened to take advantage.
I had expected the filthy oilcloth-covered tables, the rude attendants and the greasy, stodgy food with which I had grown familiar at Sverdlovsk and elsewhere. Instead, I found a pleasant room, obsequiouswaiters and waitresses, and good food. After eating a meal of bortsch, roast duck with apples, and pancakes, which cost me only ten roubles, and drinking several glasses of vodka I felt a great deal happier and more determined than ever not to be turned out of this preserve of the privileged classes.
But the tired, solitary, middle-aged woman who had been left in charge of the booking desk stuck to her guns and an hour or two later, in spite of every kind of threat, taunt and appeal, I had still made no progress and was preparing to spend the night on a bench in the local Park of Rest and Culture, when, suddenly,
Alma Ata, until a few years ago a smaller town than Semipalatinsk, owes its development almost entirely to the Turksib Railway which has linked it up with the rest of the Soviet Union. Before the Revolution the population was approximately 30,000; in 1929, before the railway reached it, it was 50,000 and now seven years after the construction of the Turksib, it had reached the figure of 230,000.
The population of Kazakhstan of which it is the capital and, which in 1936 became a Union Republic, is only about eight millions, but in area it is approximately equivalent to England, France and Germany put together. Its economic importance is principally agricultural and in the immediate neighbourhood of Alma Ata the country seemed remarkably fertile, producing Indian corn, cotton, wheat and rice and sugar beet besides the apples for which it is famous and other kinds of fruit. It is also the most important cattle-breeding area in the Soviet Union.
On arrival at Alma Ata I immediately set out in search of somewhereto live. I was attracted by what I had seen of the town and its immediate surroundings and I was also determined to see something of the Ala Tau, the portion of the Tien Shan range which lies immediately to the south. From what I knew of Soviet methods it would be several days before I even found out what means existed of getting up into the mountains.
I had ascertained on arriving that there were two hotels, both of recent construction. One was known as the Ogpu Hotel because of its proximity to N.K.V.D. Headquarters and the other, which formed part of the central block of Government buildings, was called the Dom Sovietov or House of the Soviets. At both I was told on applying for accommodation that they were completely full, the management of the Dom Sovietov adding that even if they had had room they would not have given it to me as they only catered for Government and Party officials travelling on official business.
Emboldened by my experience at Sverdlovsk I decided that the time had come to invoke the help of the N.K.V.D. At N.K.V.D. Headquarters I was told that the competent officer was out but would be back in two hours, and on returning two hours later, I found no one except an apparently half-witted Kazakh sentry from whom I gathered that Headquarters had shut down for the night. My own N.K.V.D. escort had no suggestions to offer and seemed in some doubt as to where they were going to spend the night themselves. The immediate outlook was scarcely promising, but before resigning myself to the prospect of a night on the streets, I decided to go back to the Dom Sovietov, which had seemed to me in every way preferable to the ordinary hotel, and see whether I could not by sheer persistence make the management relent. I accordingly deposited my luggage in the front hall and fought my way through the crowd surrounding the booking desk. An hour later, although the management showed no signs of weakening as far as sleeping accommodation was concerned, I had succeeded in securing permission to have supper in the hotel dining-room, a success of which I hastened to take advantage.
I had expected the filthy oilcloth-covered tables, the rude attendants and the greasy, stodgy food with which I had grown familiar at Sverdlovsk and elsewhere. Instead, I found a pleasant room, obsequiouswaiters and waitresses, and good food. After eating a meal of bortsch, roast duck with apples, and pancakes, which cost me only ten roubles, and drinking several glasses of vodka I felt a great deal happier and more determined than ever not to be turned out of this preserve of the privileged classes.
But the tired, solitary, middle-aged woman who had been left in charge of the booking desk stuck to her guns and an hour or two later, in spite of every kind of threat, taunt and appeal, I had still made no progress and was preparing to spend the night on a bench in the local Park of Rest and Culture, when, suddenly,
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