Kazakhstan wasn’t on my list, but that’s the beauty of travel. Sometimes the road decides for you.
After ten days of rough, dusty adventure in Tajikistan – glacier lakes, village stays, cold mornings that bit through my layers, no hot shower, no running water, I crossed the border into Uzbekistan early morning, at 6am, craving a real bed and a proper shower. A few spontaneous decisions later, at 11 am, I found myself flying to Almaty in Kazakhstan, heading to the snowy peaks of Shymbulak, a mountain resort just outside Almaty.
I hadn’t planned it. I hadn’t even Googled it properly, but that’s often how the best chapters begin – by following a gut feeling that simply says yes. You can read the story that led to this spontaneous detour here.
Where Is Shymbulak and Why Visit?
Hidden between the world’s more famous ski destinations, Kazakhstan is still one of those places people don’t often rave about, which is exactly what makes it so special. The slopes feel untouched, the mountains wide and open, and there’s a sense of freedom here that’s hard to find in crowded, over-photographed resorts elsewhere. As you rise above the pine forests, the views stretch endlessly – snow-tipped ridges, alpine valleys, and skies that feel close enough to touch.
Shymbulak (sometimes written Chimbulak) sits about 2,200 metres above sea level in the Trans-Ili Alatau range, just above Almaty. It is one of Central Asia’s most affordable ski resorts, with a long season that often lasts from November to April.
Wide runs, clean trails, cosy mountain cafes – all without the price tag or the crowds of other famous ski resorts. It’s incredibly affordable, and there’s a warmth to the place, the kind that comes from a destination built mainly for locals who grew up loving these mountains.
Whether you’re a beginner learning to stay upright or someone who loves long, sweeping runs, Shymbulak gives you space – real, generous space to explore, to fall, to get back up, to look around and wonder why more people don’t talk about this place. And maybe that’s the charm. You’re not sharing the slopes with hundreds of people. You’re sharing them with families teaching their kids, groups of friends cheering each other on, and travellers like me who ended up here almost by accident. It feels raw, real, and wonderfully human.
Shymbulak may not appear in glossy travel countdowns. but that’s exactly why you should go. Sometimes the places with the least noise end up leaving the loudest memories. Whether you ski, snowboard, or simply crave mountain air and a good cup of tea (or vodka!) with a view, Shymbulak offers the best way possible.
Shymbulak Resort Hotel
I checked into the main resort at Shymbulak, exhausted from the road and not expecting anything fancy. The receptionist looked nervous when she told me, “I’m sorry Maam. Only the suite rooms are available now.”
I laughed – after days of no shower or proper toilets in Tajikistan, that sounded like the best kind of problem to me!
When I stepped into my suite, I almost forgot how to breathe. A massive suite overlooking the snowy slopes. an oversized comfy bed with thick fluffy duvet. And the bathroom – oh, the bathroom – a rain shower that looked like heaven itself!
It wasn’t just about comfort – it was gratitude. For warmth. For comfort. For the reminder that sometimes, the simplest luxuries carry the deepest joy.
That first shower felt like rebirth. Hot water running down my back, mountain air sneaking in through the window, the faint smell of pine. After ten days of cold wipes and dusty roads, I realised how luxury can sometimes be as simple as warmth and running water.
Relaxing in Shymbulak
I spent the first two days doing absolutely nothing – and it was exactly what I needed. After the intensity of Tajikistan, my body finally had a chance to exhale. Mornings started with hot coffee on my terrace, steam curling into the chilly air while I watched skiers and snowboarders glide down the slopes like tiny colourful dots dancing across the white.
Sometimes I wandered around the area, letting my legs stretch after days in dusty jeeps. Shymbulak is full of charming open-air restaurants perched along the slopes, their decks draped in fluffy sheepskin and wooden tables facing views that look almost painted. I’d sit for a while just taking it in.
And then there was the heated pool.
It snowed lightly one afternoon, soft flakes drifting down like glitter. I slipped into the warm water and felt the heat rise around me while snow melted instantly on my face and shoulders. It reminded me so much of soaking in an onsen in Japan – that delicious contrast of icy air on your skin and deep warmth seeping into your bones.
Except this time, I was in my bikinis… whereas in a Japanese onsen, you have to be completely naked. A tiny detail, but somehow it made the whole scene even funnier and more surreal – floating in a steaming pool in Kazakhstan while snow kissed my face, and absolutely blissed out.
Snowboarding at Fifty
I spent two days snowboarding at Shymbulak – and every moment felt surreal. I still can’t believe there was so much snow in mid-April.
As a tropical girl, I’m no pro when it comes to snowboarding. If anything, I’m a bit of a beginner – clumsy and hesitant at times. Which is exactly why I booked a private instructor. Turns out, in Shymbulak it was ridiculously affordable. Bonus: I got to laugh off my awkward turns without worrying about slowing anyone down.
The slopes here are long and gentle enough for beginners, yet still fun for experienced skiers and snowboarders. It’s a great place to learn – private instructors are affordable and experienced.
At the age of fifty, carving down a mountain in Kazakhstan felt surreal – like life had quietly saved this moment to remind me that age never decides the size of your dreams….
Gorilla Jungle Sports and Music Festival: A Snowy Surprise
On my second day after snowboarding, I heard something that didn’t quite belong to the mountains: music. A low, pulsing bassline rolled across the slopes, cutting through the whisper of wind and the crunch of snow under boots. Curious, I followed the sound.
What I reached stunned me. Up ahead, in a glade between ski lifts and chalet lights, was a full-blown festival – the annual Gorilla Winter Jungle, where snow meets sound, and skiers meet beats.
Before the music took over, the festival opened with Big Air Competition. Skiers and snowboarders launched themselves up steep triangular ramps carved into the snow, flying into the air in clean, confident arcs. They flipped, spun, twisted their boards mid-air – landing in clouds of powder that caught the afternoon light. The whole mountain seemed to pause each time someone took off, the crowd releasing a united breath before erupting into cheers. It was wild to watch such talent so close, like front-row seats to a mountain ballet performed in snow boots and helmets.
And then the festival shifted gears.
Watch the Gorilla Jungle Festival moment here.
Lights blinked against snow-dusty peaks. A British DJ on stage called out into a microphone: “How are you feeling Kazakhstan?!” The crowd roared. Snowboarders and skiers who’d spent the day carving were now dancing in their boots, helmets pushed back or still on. Music pulsed from speakers that seemed to hang on mountain slope edges, echoing off ridges.
And there I was – a Malaysian girl from the tropics, still in snowboarding gear, watching it with wide eyes. I should’ve been back in my hotel, tired and sore, maybe sipping tea. Instead I found myself drawn in. I joined the crowd, boots clinking, hands raised, heart pounding – snowflakes drifting around me like confetti.
It was absurd. It was ridiculous. It was perfect.
Under the falling snow, with the bass vibrating through the ground and into my chest, It struck me then – how the most unexpected moments have a way of finding you, wrapping themselves around your heart before you even realise it’s happening.
Those two days on the slopes felt like a small personal victory, but Shymbulak has more to offer beyond skiing and snowboarding. It’s the kind of mountain where you can do as much or as little as you like – and leave with a full heart.
Things To Do in Shymbulak
- Snowboarding & Skiing: Shymbulak has several slopes suited for different levels, with equipment rentals available on-site. In spring, the snow is softer and the crowds thin out, perfect for beginners or anyone who prefers a slower pace.
- Take the Cable Car: Even if you don’t ski, ride the cable car up to the highest viewpoint. The panorama over Almaty and the mountains beyond is breathtaking.
- Cafe-Hopping: The mountain cafes are charming – draped in fluffy sheepskin with phenomenal views. Order lagman noodles, shashlik skewers, or Kazakh tea with honey.
- People-Watching: Shymbulak is a runway of its own. You’ll see glamorous Almaty locals gliding past in designer ski suits, looking like they just stepped out of a winter fashion shoot – right beside families bundled in five layers of wool, looking like adorable walking marshmallows. It’s a vibe!
Outdoor Heated Pool: A surreal experience – floating in steaming water while snowflakes fall around you. Don’t miss it if you’re staying overnight.
Tips for Visiting Shymbulak
Getting There:
Fly into Almaty. From the city, take a taxi (around 30 minutes) to the Medeu ice rink, then hop on the scenic 15-minute cable car to Shymbulak. Alternatively, you can also take the electric car taxi all the way to the top.
Best Time to Visit:
December – March for skiing and snowboarding; April–May for fewer crowds and mild weather.
Where to Stay:
The Shymbulak Resort Hotel is right on the slopes. Otherwise, Almaty has plenty of boutique hotels and cosy guesthouses nearby.
What to Eat:
Try lagman noodles, shashlik (grilled skewers), and Kazakh tea with honey. Simple, hearty, and perfect for cold evenings.
Good to Know:
Bring some cash as not all cafes accept cards. Weather can change quickly, so dress in layers.
Why Shymbulak Should Be on Your Kazakhstan Travel Itinerary
Kazakhstan is often overlooked, wedged between Central Asia’s more famous neighbours. However it is a country of contrast, rugged landscapes, elegant cities, and warm, quietly proud people.
Shymbulak reminded me that the best travel stories rarely come from plans. They come from detours – from saying yes to what you don’t yet understand.
If you ever find yourself in Almaty, take that cable car up. Breathe the thin air, drink the hot tea (or vodka!), and let the mountains slow your pulse. Sometimes, the most beautiful adventures start with one spontaneous yes!
