In our latest piece, our editor Aidanа Kurmangaliyeva spoke with Italian architect and speaker of ARCHICA Riccardo Marini, who has been working in Almaty for five years. He is one of the key figures behind the transformation of the city’s busiest pedestrian street — Arbat on Panfilov Street.
Once clogged with cars, this area is now a lively space where hundreds of people stroll, musicians perform, children play, and the city feels more vibrant than ever.
In this new interview, Riccardo shares what he loves about Almaty, why LRT is a good solution for Astana, and how to build cities where people can live their best lives.
— What makes cities in Central Asia unique? Many things. First and foremost — the people. A city is defined by its people. What’s really interesting about the Central Asian cities I have visited is that they have deep and unique roots. But you need to look for those roots.
Obviously, during the Soviet era, many aspects of life were under strict control — language, cultural identity, and religion. The goal of the Soviet empire, like many empires, was to create unity and conformity. That’s why when you first arrive in Almaty, for example, your initial impression is that it’s a Soviet city.
Everyone was expected to speak Russian. A colleague of mine at Gehl, before she joined the team, worked for a Danish company called VELUX. They were tasked with fitting out schools in Soviet cities. She told me it was fascinating: across the vast geographical area, there were only six types of schools.
She could go to any city in any region of Russia, and there were six options — identical in every way. It made her job much easier. After all, the Soviet Union prioritized efficiency and control.
But this also meant the suppression of many things. Now, we see a resurgence of the Kazakh language and Kazakh identity. Kazakh cities do have unique characteristics, but you need to seek them out.
When I first arrived in Almaty, the things that struck me immediately were its layout — it’s a city on a slope, with stunning mountains to the south — and its incredible greenery. The streets, in my view, are too wide because they’re designed primarily as roads.
This actually made navigation difficult. When I arrived in September, all I could see were trees. There were no distinct buildings or landmarks to help me read the urban fabric.
So, what makes cities unique? The people. Because the people here are local, and they are different from those in Moscow, Vladivostok, or Beijing. And this is true not only for cities in Central Asia.
A city without people is a zombie film set. If there are no people, you don’t want to be there.
— Kazakhstan, often seen as a Muslim country, has deeper roots — shamanism, Tengri. Islam, that spread along the ancient trade roots (the silk road did not only allow for the movement of goods but also culture customs and religions), but walking through Almaty, it felt like I was in New York or Paris. In Riyadh or even Dubai, you know you’re in a Muslim country.
People in Almaty are fashionable, but in a way shaped by global trends. In architecture, the strongest influence is Soviet, then North American — motorways, malls, shiny buildings that say nothing about Central Asia. Historically, Kazakhs were nomads; cities like Turkestan were exceptions, much like Samarkand and Bukhara.
One of my first projects was in Turkestan. I told the client I knew little about Central Asian culture beyond Marco Polo (not a good starting point for anything), so I traveled to Tashkent, Samarkand, Bukhara and the amazing Hiva. I realized Central Asian built form shares principles with Medieval Italian cities or Ancient Chinese Wudongs. As humans, we all need simple things — protection from wind, climate adaptation, seismic resilience.
If you look closely, you’ll find traces of Almaty’s past. People have lived here since Neolithic times because it’s a great place to live — it still is, despite its problems. Like many cities, Kazakhstan has struggled with cultural imperialism. In the Soviet era, it was enforced by law. Now, it’s American influence — motorways, fast food, Levi’s. McDonald’s is more powerful than legislation because people want it.
But Kazakhstan has incredible food — plov, beshbarmak — dishes Italians turned into ravioli, lasagna. There’s a cultural rediscovery happening, with younger people exploring shamanism, the Kazakh language, and Turkic roots.
Cultural identity here isn’t as obvious as in Paris, where the architecture screams “Paris!” But even Paris is Paris because of Parisians — same with New York. Kazakhs, especially Almaty residents, are warm and welcoming.
What locals need is to stop chasing Americanization. Stop driving massive cars at crazy speeds. Enjoy life. Nomads moved at three speeds — walking, running, horseback — always in sync with nature. Italy’s slow food movement led to the slow city concept. Almaty should embrace that.
— On one hand, cars have become a key part of modern culture. Taking a bus to school or daycare isn’t practical if you have a family with kids. In Kazakhstan, most people see owning a car as a necessity — something they aspire to. But should we reshape the city or change people’s mindset?
— The first time I worked in a post-Soviet city was in Krakow, Poland — a stunning, ancient city with a striking historic core. I was there as a director of Gehl, discussing how to make cities more people-friendly. Even Krakow struggled with traffic.
During a dinner with the mayor, he reminded me that they had just emerged from the Soviet system. “We want shopping malls, we want cars,” he said. But I pointed out that in the U.S., cities were trying to reverse this trend — returning to walking, cycling, and fostering strong communities rather than driving to malls to buy mass-produced goods.
I understand the desire for these things. But what defines success — driving a G-Wagen and wearing Prada? One’s German, the other’s Italian. Let’s be real. I enjoy nice things too, but I’d rather buy a handmade handbag from an Almaty artisan than an Italian-labeled bag made in China. It’s about knowing what truly drives us.
Globally, most urban trips are under five kilometers. A bike covers that in 20 minutes. Look at Denmark — cargo bikes, even electric ones, can carry kids to school. Yes, Kazakhstan’s climate is a challenge, but I still cycle. I walk. I bike from the top of Furmanova to Esentai Tower. It’s possible.
In Almaty, when it snows, the first thing cleared is roads. But in Copenhagen, they clear pavements and cycle lanes first, inviting people to walk and cycle. The city sends a message.
Here, snow is cleared for cars. In Astana, they pile it in parks. Why not turn it into a snowboarding park? But first — clean the pavements and cycle lanes. People will walk. Before cars, they walked, cycled, and rode donkeys. We’ve just built motorways everywhere.
In Kuala Lumpur, they said it was too hot to cycle. But in the 1930s, millions cycled there. Now, comfort and air conditioning dictate choices. But we have Gore-Tex, heated gloves — solutions exist. This isn’t about banning cars, just making walking and cycling easier.
In Almaty, it’s hard to walk or cycle. Pavements disappear, steps, holes, cycle lanes with trees in the middle. Designed by people who’ve never cycled. Cycle lanes should replace car space, not take from pavements.
Take Abaya — one of the first real Gehl projects here was removing railings to connect universities and public spaces. You can walk there. Cars should go underground, not people.
Or Essentai Square? Once a car park. Now a thriving public space, making more money than it ever did with cars. People enjoy it, take pictures, and walk freely. That says a lot.
Yet, city rules still prioritize cars over people. I once walked from First President’s Park to the airport — dangerous crossings, no pavements. We proposed connected walkways and cycle lanes, but regulations blocked it. Meanwhile, Al-Farabi was widened — now it’s even more congested. Science proves more lanes mean more traffic, not less.
Tough choices must be made. Who should dominate the city — people or cars?
I was recently in Karakol on the shores of the amazing Issyk-Kul. It’s a smaller city, but it has a brightly colored mosque built by the Chinese community. That mosque stood out — it made the place memorable.
When people ask me about Almaty, I think of the Green Bazaar. The Soviet-era building was nicer, but the bazaar itself is vibrant, full of people — I love visiting it.
Pushkina, from Raiymbek to the Green Bazaar, is more beautiful than Panfilov. It has the central mosque, the Green Bazaar, and views of the cathedral in Panfilov Park. Yet, it’s overrun by cars, hard to cross. I worked on a project to make it pedestrian friendly, like with Panfilov, to pedestrianize it, but cars always win.
When I proposed making Panfilov pedestrian-only, the chief architect resisted, saying no one would walk uphill. But we had data. At the time, only one restaurant was there about to close Afisha — now there’s not enough space for new ones. Even at -15°C, people walk there.
There’s still a traffic lane I’d remove. It wasn’t perfectly executed, but it became a thriving public space. And it’s economically successful.
What I advocate isn’t just about saving the planet. When you design for people, cities prosper. But it has to be done right — blindly banning cars doesn’t work. Success comes from data, understanding, and strategic choices.
— Anthropology, sociology, psychology — all are crucial, yet architects aren’t taught them. I was lucky to work with Gehl, where I collaborated with anthropologist Louise Vogel Kielgast and a sociologist.
In meetings, Louise would elbow me and say, «Start being human. You’re being an architect». Architects think in a particular way. I learned how vital it is to allow people to communicate — visually and verbally.
Now, imagine standing by Al-Farabi or in the city center. We couldn’t talk — the noise, vibrations, pollution. Cities have different types of pollution. In some places, we removed cars, and suddenly, you could hear birdsong, smell people passing by, and hear children playing. These are indicators of a livable place.
As Jan Gehl says, «It’s easy and cheap to be nice to people.» Yet, we spend fortunes on flyovers — like the planned junction at Raiymbeka and Al-Farabi, which is a terrible idea.
— But is there enough data?
— The process is simple but requires knowledge. When I arrived in 2014, we taught locals how to conduct a public space and public life survey. Cities track cars, and parking spaces — but do they know how many people walk on the pavement? How many linger in a square? They don’t.
So when politicians ask, transport departments push for bigger roads and car parks. No one argues for bigger pavements or public spaces. Some transport officials care, but not all.
In Almaty, we conducted a survey to measure pedestrian activity. In 2017, I told Mayor Baybek that Abaya Street saw a 25% increase in pedestrians. He was amazed. Simply removing railings and improving crossings made a difference. Beyond numbers, people smiled more because walking was enjoyable.
Yet, that work wasn’t continued. We trained a few people, even involved university students, but it stopped. Just before the pandemic, I did another count at Al-Farabi and Essentai River and proved cyclists and pedestrians used Al-Farabi.
The right data matters. Data on people is essential.
— What can we do with Kazakhstan’s industrial past? From an architectural perspective, how can we use it?
— Industrial buildings can be beautiful. Today, we build houses that stay houses, offices that stay offices, and industrial buildings that remain sheds. But in cities like New York, London, and Paris, old warehouses and depots are converted into housing, offices, and mixed-use spaces.
Regeneration, which I worked on in Glasgow and Edinburgh, is about reusing old buildings, not demolishing them. Yet here, I see projects labeled «regeneration» that just knock everything down. That’s wasteful and lazy, especially considering carbon footprints.
Old buildings have character and memory. They should be reinvented, not erased. It requires more effort from architects, but it’s crucial.
In Japan, frequent earthquakes and fires have prevented very ancient buildings from surviving. Instead, they’ve mastered rebuilding using original components, creating structures that look ancient but are meticulously reconstructed. The craftsmanship is incredible.
Here, new buildings are often rushed, with parts falling apart in a few years. They’re just facades hiding poor design. Older buildings, however, are solid and reflect a different architectural approach. They hold immense value.
— I’ll be blunt. If I had been invited to work in Astana, I might not have come to Kazakhstan. The steppe is beautiful, but Almaty is more navigable — you have mountains to the south, steppes to the north, and seven rivers flowing through the city. It’s cosmopolitan, a true Silk Route city with a richer cultural mix than Astana.
Astana’s older left bank is fine, and the river is nice, but the new part feels like a zombie film set — difficult to walk, dominated by cars. Recently, I tried walking from the Ritz-Carlton to the Palace of Congress and had to detour a kilometer just to cross traffic. That makes a city less attractive. Add minus 40°C temperatures and wind — would I choose to live there?
Astana has open skies and dramatic landscapes, but I prefer mountains. And more people live in Almaty — that says something.
— Does Astana have potential for good development?
— All cities do, but it depends on the vision. Astana is growing faster than Almaty but repeats common mistakes — sprawl, car dominance, and poor walkability. Almaty’s center and parts of Astana’s left bank follow the «15-minute city» model, but the newer areas don’t. Instead, they have isolated dormitories and business zones — poor urban planning.
Regulations make mixed-use development difficult. We need compact, walkable streets — not by banning cars, but by making them less necessary. Look at Khiva in Uzbekistan or San Gimignano in Italy — narrow streets protect from heat and wind. Almaty benefits from tree cover, while Astana’s wide streets expose people to brutal cold.
Yet modernist planning persists — 50-meter-wide roads, oversized buildings detached from human scale. That’s a mistake. And it’s still happening.
— Can I say that there’s only one way to resolve it? Like you said, make stricter rules. Governments should enforce more regulations.
— There’s never one magic bullet. What I like, you might not. You need to understand that diversity is really important.
But science tells us that simple sensory triggers affect us all. We like certain things. In the spring, it’s nice to get sunshine on your face. When it’s hot, it’s nice to get a cool breeze from the wind on your face. If it’s cold, it’s nice to be sheltered from the wind.
But if you’re next to water, the noise of kids playing, not screaming and playing, it’s very attractive. So how do you create a place that allows the way we’re designed to function well? And we’re designed to use our senses, that’s how we evolved, and we’re designed to walk.
So if you make it difficult to walk, and you’re enclosed in a tin box with air conditioning, listening to music, I always say — I don’t think anybody has ever fallen in love in a traffic jam. But people have fallen in love on the street. I go to the same bus stop every morning, and I see someone I like.
After three months, I built up the courage to talk to them. Now, if I’m stuck in a car, the chances of me seeing the same person next to me are small. And the chances of me communicating with them are even smaller.
So, the drama of a city is really important. And, you know, we’re very simple. We are looking for love, we’re looking for pleasure, and this is true across all cultures. They design a city with that potential — to allow people to fall in love, to enjoy themselves. Not to be stressed and stuck in traffic. That’s a terrible city.
— How Would You Assess the Conditions in Our Cities for People with Additional Needs?
— That’s a really important question, especially in a city with a 300-meter change in elevation. So, here’s the thing. Disabled accessibility — or rather, universal accessibility — is crucial. When I came to Almaty, one of the first things that struck me was the number of steps everywhere.
The pavements have steps. Buildings are elevated with steps leading up to them, making them inaccessible for people with disabilities. Now, I’m fortunate — I’m able-bodied. I don’t have an issue. I climb mountains and do all sorts of things.
What I usually do is find a disability activist, often someone in a wheelchair, and walk around the city with them. It gives me a completely different perspective. One of the practices I advocate for mayors is the buggy test — or the pram test. But don’t put a child in the pram — the child is too precious. Instead, use a bag of coal — actually, no, coal is bad — use a bag of potatoes. Make it heavy.
Then walk around your city. Where there’s a step that’s difficult to navigate, or a curb, or a hole, or where the pavement simply disappears — mark it on a map. Hand that map to the mayor and say: “This city is forcing me to drive, not walk.”
A city designed for walking means someone in a wheelchair can move freely. A parent with a pram can get around. An elderly person with a limp can navigate. A city should be for everyone.
Of course, there’s a reality to consider. Cities like Siena or San Gimignano in Italy are built on steep hills — you can’t always have a 1:20 slope, which is the ideal gradient for wheelchair accessibility. But where possible, all buildings should be accessible — no steps, proper entrances, and lifts. There are solutions. But we cannot change Almaty’s natural slopes.
I’ve seen some absurd things — like working on a riverbank where the slope is steeper than 1:20, and transport officials insisted on installing a 1:20 ramp. You cannot change the world. Even disability activists I consulted agreed — it’s better to remove unnecessary steps and work with the natural terrain rather than forcing impractical solutions. We should focus on making buildings and public spaces more accessible.
And here’s the thing — there’s evidence to support this approach. Have you heard of the Blue Zones? These are five regions around the world where people regularly live to 90 or even 100. It’s due to a mix of diet, mental well-being, and physical activity. Many of these Blue Zones are in mountainous or hilly regions where people naturally walk to visit friends, climb stairs, and stay active.
Now, if someone is unable to walk, we must ensure they can still move around and socialize — but we cannot completely reshape the city’s geography. What we can change are buildings, infrastructure, and transport systems. Bus stops should be designed so parents with prams can board easily. There are many practical improvements we can make.
In Copenhagen, I can take my bike on a train or bus. If I’ve had too much to drink and don’t want to cycle, I can just put my bike in a taxi, on a bus, or a train.
That’s what people-friendly design looks like — it allows me to go to work in the morning, meet friends in the evening, and either leave my bike behind or take it with me. When my kids were younger, I’d always look for places where I could push a double buggy into a restaurant without needing to fold it up.
A well-designed city isn’t just for one group — it’s not just for young people, not just for the elderly. It should work for everyone. And we are all designed to walk.
— But right now, I think it’s crazy to take a child on a bike onto a bus. Don’t you think so?
— But buses could be improved. And when the LRT comes, it should be better.
— What do you think about the LRT in Astana? Can it improve the city?
— When Tokayev became president, I was asked to comment on the LRT in Astana. The question was: should they stop it? And if they do, what can be done with it?
I said there are many possibilities. You could turn it into a highline, a production area, or even an entertainment space. But you shouldn’t turn it into any of those. It should remain a transport system, and you need to complete it.
So, the last time I was in Astana, I was really glad to see that they were continuing with it. That is the right decision. Now, unfortunately, things went wrong with the previous project. Safeguards need to be put in place.
This is a massive investment — one of the most positive investments I’ve seen in Kazakhstan. Investing in public transport is critically important.
In a city like Almaty, I believe Dosayev is seriously considering expanding natural and green LRT networks. These are difficult projects in such a large city, but they are necessary. Additionally, the regional government must start investing in public transport to connect Talgar to Almaty with rapid transit. That would reduce some of the traffic and give people better choices. Right now, the buses to Talgar are not the best. I’ve used them. They’re not very good — crowded, uncomfortable, no Wi-Fi.
Here’s an example I often use: Imagine I’m a city official. I work with a mayor. The mayor says, «Tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock, I have a very important meeting. You need to be here.»
I take the LRT. I sit comfortably with my laptop, connected to Wi-Fi, a climate-controlled environment, and a smooth ride. Meanwhile, my colleague, the other deputy mayor, is in his G-Wagon, stuck in traffic. I arrive at the meeting half an hour early, set up, and have a coffee. He arrives late. Guess what? Next time, he’s going to take the LRT. Because it’s easier, more comfortable, and allows you to work.
There’s no question — investment in high-quality public transport is the key to reducing pollution, congestion, and stress in big cities. And this applies not just to Almaty but to all major cities around the world.
— How should we choose the right type of transport for the cities? Metro, LRT, or just buses?
— Well, Curitiba, for example, has rubber-wheeled trams and prioritizes buses. There’s a street not far from here where, years ago, we advised putting in centrally running buses. That means bus stops and infrastructure must be well-designed. Here, they’re not. They’re a bit dangerous, causing problems.
If you design it properly and give public transport priority, you create what’s called a modal shift. When buses are comfortable and don’t get stuck in traffic, people will choose to take them.
There are other measures, too — though they might be more difficult to implement in Central Asia. Take congestion charging, for example. Helsinki tried it. Initially, a referendum on congestion charges failed. Then, they introduced a tram system along with congestion charging. Suddenly, people started using public transport because they didn’t want to pay extra, and now they had a good alternative.
Every city is different. There’s no one-size-fits-all solution. Cities must analyze what is cost-efficient and, most importantly, what is comfortable for the end user. But one thing is clear — investment in public transport is always the right choice.
— Can you name two places in Almaty: one good and one poor from an architectural perspective?
— From an architectural perspective, I love the Kazakhstan Hotel. Yes, I think it’s a very beautiful object.
And I really like Dostyk as a street. But I would transform Dostyk into a pedestrian-priority space, especially from Abay Avenue down to the park. It could be a beautiful walking street, and it has some very powerful Soviet architecture. There’s a block of three residential buildings with a statue in front. Again, it needs some love — it needs to be refurbished properly, respecting its architectural language. I like that space and that building in the same way I like the hotel.
Republic Square, as a space, is actually bigger than Tiananmen Square in Beijing. It’s bewildering — it feels empty, like a car park. There are some nice buildings, but the space just doesn’t work.
Baiseitova Street is beautiful, but you need to be able to walk along it properly and cross the bank in the centre of Abai easily. That’s a project. It’s one of the things we recommended, but it hasn’t been done yet, probably because it seems technically difficult.
The Akimat building? It’s a building that says, “I am powerful.” If you look at the original plans for the square, it wasn’t meant to be this big — it had buildings next to the Akimat, which created a more intimate, well-framed space. Unfortunately, the structures added in front of the Akimat — the shopping center and all of that — are a distraction. They disrupt the spatial progression leading to this significant building.
I understand why someone thought it was a good idea at the time, but now it’s just a hole in the ground that doesn’t work. It could be something else. The grand staircase leading up to the Akimat should be clean and unobstructed.
It could be a beautifully designed sequence of spaces with well-placed pavilions that don’t interfere with the view. But most importantly, the traffic around it needs to be drastically reduced. It should not be a car park.
And it definitely shouldn’t be a spot where young guys park their fancy cars just to rev their engines. There are plenty of other places they can do that.
— Should there be more lights in cities at night?
— Lighting is essential, but it needs to be done right. I worked on Tinnikou, advising the mayor because it was about to turn into a disaster. One thing I discovered was that while there are lights, no one maintains them — trees grow over them, blocking visibility.
Recently, Republic Square was lit up, and I believe the Deputy Mayor who did it had the right intentions. However, the execution was flawed — it’s lit like a motorway car park, using high-mast lighting with a 4000 Kelvin temperature, which is far from ideal.
We worked on a project with the Deputy Mayor to demonstrate that 12-metre poles aren’t necessary. Instead, you can use 6-metre poles with a 3000 Kelvin light source, which is much better for people. Studies show that 4000 Kelvin lighting is actually harmful to us physically. In pedestrian areas, lighting should be lower, not higher.
Security lighting is crucial, but so is visibility. The problem is that cheap Christmas trees get planted everywhere. These aren’t urban trees — they create visual shadows where someone with bad intentions can hide or where a man might use them as a toilet. That’s not how it should be. You need trees that allow for clear sightlines so people feel comfortable and safe.
There are many simple, cost-effective ways to make a city feel safer and more welcoming. Lighting is just one component — but excessive lighting is just as bad as poor lighting.
— Do you think Almaty has too much lighting?
— In certain areas, yes. Last night, while walking home, I noticed someone had installed new lights on the top end of Furmanov. It felt like, «We have a budget, let’s put lights up,» without any real planning.
Lighting needs to be designed with intent. There should be a strategy that defines the colour temperature, the brightness level, and the quantity of light required in each area. It needs to be curated and, most importantly, well-maintained.
Working with the Government: Challenges and Perspectives
— What other projects are you working on right now? And do you work with the government?
— Yes, we’re working with the government, but we signed a non-disclosure agreement, so I can’t discuss the details. What I can say is that we’re working on an incredible area of Kazakhstan — one I hadn’t been to before. It’s stunningly beautiful, and we’re trying to develop a strategic approach for it.
I’m still an advisor of Dosayev and also the Oblast Regional Mayor. But, you know, maybe I say things that some people don’t want to hear. Actually, no — I don’t say the wrong things. If someone asks me a question, no matter who they are, I’ll give them an honest answer.
— But what’s the issue? Do they not agree with you?
— Well, people are entitled to disagree with me. But whenever I make a statement, I’d like to think I can justify it with real, tangible reasoning. I’m not naive — I understand that decisions are made for different reasons, and sometimes compromises are necessary.
However, in a city like Almaty, there are decisions driven by business interests rather than what’s best for the people. Running a city is extremely complex. The mayor isn’t to blame for everything — he simply can’t know every single thing that’s happening.
He has a massive bureaucratic system beneath him, one that is inherently resistant to change. I remember the first mayor I worked with, before Baybek — his name escapes me now. I told him, «You have 22 deputy mayors. They need to communicate with each other.»
A city needs a holistic approach — roads, housing, economy — they all have to work together to create a better urban environment. Unfortunately, that’s still not happening.
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