Andrej in younger years

I grew up in Bishkek, Kyrgyz SSR, in a world that was rapidly changing. The Soviet Union collapsed when I was six. Maybe that's why I've always been drawn to understanding how systems work—and what happens when they don't. At a specialized physics-mathematical lyceum, I learned to think in patterns and abstractions. But it was my father who introduced me to Deep Purple, and that changed everything. Around the same time, I discovered Dostoevsky. Both taught me that beneath technical precision, there's always something deeper—emotion, meaning, chaos.

At Russian-Slavic University, I studied computer science and found that code could be both rigorous and creative. I also went deeper into philosophy—from Dostoevsky to Kant, Hegel, and Schelling. Their questions about freedom, systems, and consciousness shaped how I think about software: not just as tools, but as structures that reflect and shape human experience.

My early career was in Bishkek, building ERP systems in C# and CashIn systems that let people top up their mobile phones. Later came Java and Spring, including a parliamentary election system that taught me what reliability means when the stakes are real. Working on payment integrations—Skrill, Webmoney, and eventually PayPal, Stripe, Klarna—showed me how global systems actually connect behind the scenes.

In 2014, freelancing brought an opportunity that eventually led me to Germany. I arrived in 2015 on a Blue Card and stayed. Over the years, my focus broadened from pure development to DevOps, architecture, and leading teams. Good engineering, I learned, isn't about clever code—it's about building systems that last, that others can maintain, and that actually solve real problems.

I still play guitar and share recordings when something feels right. I still read philosophy, though now in the original German. These aren't separate from my work—they're the same impulse. Whether it's a riff, an idea, or a system architecture, I'm trying to understand how the parts connect, what makes something hold together, and what breaks when they don't.

— Andrej