cqchen life

Like this child, I too found myself alone in the deep end at this beach, floating at the mercy of the currents around me.

There’s nothing more humbling than being at the mercy of the world around you, ocean currents against a rudderless raft. This past week in Kazakhstan was full of humility, and at the same time, a reciprocal level of gratitude.

On one side of the feeling, this hit me as I sat in a boardroom listening to U.S. and Kazakh diplomats discuss geopolitical affairs of neighboring superpowers — China, Russia, the Middle East at every doorstep. The proximity of real global politics and the actors I once only read about loomed mind-bendingly large in that moment.

The life-saving force of that night was Bota and her family — after I ran into them explaining my desperate situation, even though they were already a group of four who couldn’t technicall fit me into their plans, would not let me stay behind alone. They negotiated after dozens of texts and calls to hav a taxi from the nearby city of Konaev bring us to a gas station there, where we were then picked up by another taxi to embark on the longer drive back to Almaty. Squashed in the backseat with Bota, her friend, and her mom (her brother sat in the front), racing down the dark highway with the windows down, as Madonna’s “Hung Up” played on the tinny radio, is one of the most surreal yet somehow visceral memories I’ll have, marked by the intense combinion of adrenaline and gratitude.

This family didn’t need to talk to me, a random person who literally came out of nowhere from the street in the night, or cram me into their hard-acquired taxis, making themselves more uncomfortably for the three hours of transit. Their younger brother shared with me part of the doughnut he had bought for himself from the gas station. I’m still in disbelief by their random generosity to me.

It also turns out that Bota, who is also 22, might have been the best possible person to have this adventure with. So chatty, she showed me pictures of her and her mom’s recent vacation to Uzbekistan, explained how Kazakh names are very unique (hers means baby came wit big eyes), told me about her Korean grandmother’s relocation to Kazakhstan during the Soviet era, and how to use WhatsApp stickers (which is apparently mandatory for texting in Russian or Kazakh). Needless to say, a new friend was formed! Plus she works as a backend QA analyst close to my office so we can hang out!

Of course, though this experience turned out alright for me with a new friend and vivid appreciation for Kazakh kindness, I do acknowledge that I should probably have planned better (in case my parents are reading this). You live and you learn!

Anyway, now that that the first reality-inducing event has been discussed, we can return to the other topic. This week at work has crystallized to me, first, the precarious and critical geopolitical position Central Asia is in, and second, how my work over the past three years on critical minerals converged into the most pressing policy topic in 2026 between the US, China, and Kazakhstan.

In three notable meetings of the week, I heard about the state of interest in Central Asia in Washington directly from the US Consulate, then talked to a former Uzbek mathematician turned researcher about Kazakh bureaucratic corruption permitting Chinese mining ventures, and then to one of the thinktank’s China experts about live diplomatic initatives from Taiwan/Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan/Russia, China/Turkmenistan.

The extent of necessary diplomacy in this particular region of the world hit me one day when I was at lunch at a local cafe with Filip, a former journalist whose own background fit adequately into the melting pot of Central Asia, as a French-Czech dual citizen who grew up in Tashkent, worked in Bishkek and Prague, studied in China, and now broadly works on Central Asian policies. He had just been in Taiwan, where he said in the past six months there had been significant movements toward opening up to Central Asia in both commercial and political terms. After a conference with the Soros Foundation in Mongolia, he would travel to Kyiv, where Ukrainian officials in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs currently plan to renegotiate their relationship with Kazakhstan.

At the same time he discussed with me these immediately evolving relationships coming to the table in Central Asia, he also shared his perspective observing the region’s political, cultural, and economic developments in the past decades. Kyrgyzstan used to be the most free of the five Stans, he said, but mow was even more stringent than Kazakhstan in its domestic politics and had gotten cut off by the EU because of its extremely close trade relationship to Russia.He told me it’s quite possible for my hopes for interviews this summer, whether Chinese workers or Kazakh.

In order to keep this high-level, I’d summarize the rest of these hours of conversations into the theme of “eye of the hurricane.” It truly feels like I left the ivory tower of academic research or Model UN and am now standing amidst the giants myself.

Okay, now to completely switch topics, I love the natural gravitation, upon the meeting of young people from across the world, to immediately introduce their culture’s best curse words. I’ve picked up a solid array now, from the Kazakh word for “dickhead,” қотақбас or “kotaqbas” to the French term for “slut,” “salope,” to the Russian variety of ways to say “fuck,” from the classic Блять to the more feminine Пиздец to Иди на хуй which means something like “go to the dick.” I’ve also had the pleasure of introducing the versatile 我操 to the curious foreingners. (I initially questioned if I can write this paragraph, but then I remembered that this is my website after all.)

I guess this is to report that I’ve made more friends, from quite a motley of origin stories. But I’ve picked up more of a pulse of local life through them. i learned that Kazakh couples must each recount to each other seven generations of ancestors, to make sure that there is no semblance of close blood relation. There are also commonly more gender roles in relationships, with men always paying for meals out while women always prepare the meals in. On birthdays, people will buy their friends or coworkers food. To throw the massive weddings here, it’s not uncommon to put yourself in debt.

Again, this is an extremely long post. The only other travel update other than the Beach Adventure is that I went horse riding in the mountains. Insane to find myself galloping across a field surrounded by wildflowers and wild horses. Speaking of horses… I did ironically also try my first horse meat this week (and fermented horse milk). I would say I liked both. For my other COO job, as my workload gradually increases (suddenly, I’m making the yearbook for my own class..???) my creativity does too. I somehow feel extremely entrpreneurial from this side of the world, a good sign for the Daily’s bsusiness revenues I hope.

The last, fluffy, yet life-altering topic is my discovery of the best secondhand clothes shop I might have ever been to. I will gatekeep its name until I have to leave here, but hidden away up a rickety side staircase above a bar lay this dream store with such unique clothes still packed on racks like a thrift store, but filled llike a vintage store ten times its price point with favorite brands (Diesel, Desigual, Levi’s, European luxury labels, endless others) for literally slim fractions of what I’ve ever seen anywhere else in the world. In a haze, I bought everything I liked with no remorse for my carry-on that was already packed to the brim before arriving here. My favorite finds: two lacy tank tops for a dollar each, a baby paper-colored Longchamp Le Pliage Original pouch, a pair of Loewe dark wash straight jeans with embroidered pockets, a turquoise Miu Miu light trench, and the cream of the crop — a pair of gray Diesel baggy jeans with the coolest studs on the hips.

After all the green tree-lined streets and specialty coffee shops that mesmerized me last week, I think discovering this shop (perilously located right between my office and my apartment…) is the superficial aspect that might have locked Almaty deep into my heart. What can I say, I am a simple girl.

Seriously, I continue to feel endlessly indebted to fate for throwing me into this summer. I can’t imagine a combination of learning and places and experiences that could better channel my post-grad burst of energy and ambition and freedom into exponential limits.

Truly, a summer beyond my wildest dreams, feeling closer than ever to the world and myself.