BAIKONUR (Kazakhstan): If the colonization of space ever becomes a reality, the last of Earth many of the settlers will see is a wind-blown strip of barren steppe dotted by crumbling and abandoned apartment blocks.

Baikonur, the last chance to fuel up before reaching for the stars, is a vestige of the Soviet empire, now rented by Russia from its Central Asian neighbour Kazakhstan.

It also provides a fitting prelude to the austerities of interplanetary travel.

Freezing in winter and baking in summer, the Baikonur cosmodrome was created in 1955, located as far south as possible to enable Soviet space scientists to benefit from the slingshot effect of the Earth’s rotation.

It allowed generations of cosmonauts, starting with Yury Gagarin in 1961, to test the waters of space travel and opened up the giddying prospect of exploration of the cosmos from Moscow’s very own infinity beach.

The dream however faded as the Soviet Union declined and fell, and from a peak of around 100,000 inhabitants in the mid-1980s, Baikonur — 125 kilometres long and 85 kilometres wide, and thus larger than several United Nations member states — is now home to just 40,000 people.

The population loss is reflected by the large number of empty or half-completed buildings, dilapidated infrastructure and widespread rust.

The curtailing of Russia’s space ambitions and the repatriation to Plesetsk in the northwest of the country of most of its military space activities have left the enclave dependent on the fiercely competitive commercial and satellite launch business.

Western-led aerospace joint ventures involving companies such as Starsem, a French-led consortium that commercializes the Soyuz rocket, have recently brought an influx of foreign investment and some improvements in the quality of life, including a luxury hotel.

The town nonetheless presents stark contrasts between hi-tech and low income, between ancient and modern, and between East and West.

Rockets are everywhere. Poster pictures of them, memorials to them, models of them in school playgrounds, the real thing posted on street-corners — a Proton rocket here, a 200-metre (700-foot) Soyuz-3 launcher there — or souvenir miniatures on sale in the town’s hotel.

The shores of space, which are also the banks of the Syr Darya, the river known to antiquity as Jaxartes, are populated by camels, no doubt the descendants of those that once plied the trade routes between China and Europe.

Amidst the rocket science, subsistence agriculture is still practised with much the same methods as were used centuries ago.

For the mainly young mixed Russian and Kazakh population, the dusty town with its shabby, Soviet-style residential blocks appears to present insuperable obstacles to enjoying la dolce vita.

They do their best, though. On the last Friday night of the year, with the temperature five degrees below zero Celsius (23 degrees Fahrenheit) and falling, groups of young people were strolling along its central promenade, named the Arbat after Moscow’s main tourist thoroughfare, or clustered outside the Pizza Palermo establishment.

On the dance floor at the town’s discotheque, until recently an officers’ club, young men and women gyrated energetically to George Michael and Atomic Kitten. Most were Russian; young Kazakhs were more likely to be serving the drinks than buying them.

Kazakhstan has complained that Russia, which administers the town, is damaging the local environment but is expected next month to sign a bilateral agreement on further development of the spaceport and to extend the lease arrangement for up to 50 years.

The children in Baikonur’s playgrounds may yet live to see a new Mayflower set sail.—AFP