I visited Kazakhstan, but this time was different, as I was part of the official delegation for the President of the Republic of Estonia's state visit.

I honestly don't even remember when exactly, but sometime in the first half of this year, I got an email from the president's office asking for my phone number. I gave it, they called and it turned out that a state visit to Kazakhstan was being planned and they needed advice from someone familiar with the country. At one of the first meetings with a representative from the president's office, I said, "Take me along." After a short pause, they got back to me and said they would.

Let me say right away that I was actually useful in Kazakhstan, so I think the taxpayer's money was well spent.

The entire state visit, including travel, lasted four days and every day someone came to me for advice. The thing is, Kazakh culture and Kazakhstani society differ significantly from what we consider normal here in Estonia. It turns out that twelve years of research in Kazakhstan paid off. I was able to answer every question — except one time, at an event where some hunting dogs were on display. I honestly had no idea what breed they were. I guessed and said, "Kazakh hunting dog."

Being an ethnologist is an occupational hazard — you just can't help yourself. So I started keeping a fieldwork journal. Everything was incredibly interesting, even though all four days were intense and, truthfully, quite exhausting. But we were in Astana and that alone made all the rushing around worth it.

Taking part in a presidential state visit is a unique experience — how often does the average person get an opportunity like that? It's kind of like being in a Hollywood movie, only in real life and in real time. Just imagine being surrounded by a swarm of athletic guys in black suits with wires running from their ears down into their suit collars. Then you look up and see drones flying overhead.

Perhaps the most surprising things about a presidential state visit are twofold. First, everything and everyone is planned down to the second. Not just where people go, but also who from the host country will meet the Estonian delegation and handle business. That said, in Kazakhstan, this doesn't necessarily mean everything runs according to plan. There were several delays, from what I understood.

The second surprise was that the activities of just two people — the president and the first lady — were organized, coordinated and synchronized by a team of about 50 people. And those 50 people were constantly on the move like squirrels in a wheel, working around the clock.

For example, several people were dedicated solely to managing the president's social media. One of them sat in a corner with a laptop, constantly editing videos and adding music. If you look at the videos from the Kazakhstan state visit on President Alar Karis' Facebook page, you'll see they're professionally and cleanly done. And keep in mind, these were made on the go, often while riding from point A to point B in a minibus.

One moment when my knowledge of Kazakh culture came in handy was when I was shadowing the rector of the University of Tartu during a meeting of university presidents. We were sitting in the office of the president of Nazarbayev University, along with others, having a serious work-related discussion.

Apparently, the conversation made a strong impression, because when we were about to leave, the right hand of the Nazarbayev University president — a Kazakh woman who spoke surprisingly polished British English — picked up a plate of chocolate candies from the table and offered some to Rector Toomas Asser. Asser politely thanked her and tried to take just two. She insisted and ended up pressing an entire handful on him. These were blue-wrapped chocolates with gold letters spelling "Kazakhstan" — the kind of candy every Kazakh is expected to bring as a gift when traveling abroad.

Now, a bit of cultural context. In Kazakh tradition, there's a ritual gift called sarqyt (pronounced "sarkut," with a sharp popping "k"). It means offering food from the table to an honored guest to take along. Sarqyt is a sign of respect and honor and must not be refused. Evidently, the meeting had made such an impression that Rector Asser, in the eyes of our Kazakh hosts, had been elevated to the status of a respected guest.

I saved the moment by half-jokingly opening my suit pocket, into which the chocolates were poured (and yes, I gave half to Asser afterward — promise!). Later, I discussed the situation with my Kazakh friends and they were convinced it was sarqyt, not just a polite "take a few candies for the road" gesture.

Speaking of gifts — when traveling to Kazakhstan, it's always smart to bring along a few Estonia-related items to give away. I usually take large, fairly expensive Kalev chocolate bars with whole nuts, since you really can't buy anything like that in Kazakhstan. But this time, I experimented and added a completely ordinary tube of Põltsamaa mustard. Later, I asked my friends what they thought of the mustard. Their response? "It's the best mustard in the world." So now I know what to bring next time.

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