The flashy buildings of Astana rise up implausibly from the flat plains of oil-rich Kazakhstan to form a city stuck between a Soviet past and an aspirational present

Given the billions of barrels of oil and gas that have been discovered in the country, and its very low population of only 16 million, every Kazakhstani should be a millionaire by now. One look at Astana and you can see where much of the money has gone: everywhere it’s big, flashy signature buildings, all wearing their architects’ names like fashion labels, all competing for attention like a collection of spoiled teenagers insecurely shouting: “Look at me!”

Take the Norman Foster-designed Khan Shatyr shopping centre, on the road into town from the airport. It’s the world’s largest marquee with total area of 127,000 sq metres and a height along the spire of 150 metres. A special chemical lining protects those inside from the brutal icy winter and helps it maintain its special microclimate. The artificial beach, with sand specially imported from the Maldives, requires a constant 35C. All shopping centres need a beach, of course.

For a centrally planned city, the aesthetic juxtapositions are remarkably discordant. A flashy glass pyramid. A towering set of apartments built to match Moscow University in the Stalinist empire style. A Disney version of the White House. A vase-like tower with a ball on top that the president apparently designed on the back of a napkin during a state dinner. A finance ministry shaped as a dollar bill.