So I have here a wish list. Right now I'm fine with clothes - only thing I can think of at the moment is hats, and that's more along the line of a Boston baseball cap 'cause I don't have one right now.
I have to say everything that was sent in the way of food was absolutely great! The method of taking stuff out of boxes and putting it in something else to save space is a great idea, just be sure the items are secure so they don't explode all over the box (ala oatmeal). But anything and everything that has been sent over so far has been greatly appreciated, and I am eternally in your debt for giving me a piece of happiness from home here in Kyrgyzstan!
Now, this is the stuff I dream of. It's all a wish list, so take it as that and not a demands list, please!
Thank you all so much once again, and I hope everyone has a wonderful and Happy Holiday Season!
Peace,
Chris
Wish List:
Candy:
Reese's (pb cups, pieces, really anything reese's, it's all amazing)
Jelly Beans
StarBursts
Skittles
Three Musketeers
Swedish Fish
Most anything chocolate
Most anything anything
If you send it
It will be eaten
Food:
Peanut Butter
Dried fruit (pineapple, mixes, banana, cranberry)
Trail mix type foods
Granola bars
Anything bar form
Drink mixes
Things in pretty plastic jars (my fam loves the jars)
Anything that has been previously sent
Pringles (cause a bag will just... ugh)
Anything you can think of that will last a trip of 2-6 weeks!
Everything I've received so far has been superb!
Sauces, Spices etc:
BBQ Sauce
Pasta Sauce (or paste even, the stuff here is quite subpar and tomatoes won't be in season for a while)
Nutmeg (cmon, how can a CTer not have it?)
Breakfast Syrup
Rosemary
Thyme
Honey Mustard
Anything that can be used as marinade or sauce or pretty much anything.
And more vanilla
What I don't need:
Ramen noodles
Gloves
Friday, December 26, 2008
Christmas!
So I'm in a bit of a predicament. On the eve of Christmas (not quite, it's the 23rd at the moment) I've learned that not only do I have to go be part of a commission for the local scholastic olympic competition, but I also have to cover classes for my counterpart tomorrow. The issue: I was planning on doing all sorts of stuff for Christmas. First things first though, in terms of what's going on. Last week and the week prior I was told about the olymiads, and when I went in the day it was supposed to be (the 20th) I was told the date was magically moved. Not only was it moved, it was MOVED. To the 25th, to be precise. That ruined my holly jolly spirit quite a bit because now instead of spending time with my host family on Christmas I'll be running this nonsense competition. Don't get me wrong -- I want to be involved with the competition, particularly since its an opportunity for Kyrgyz students to advance a bit further than the norm. But, in talking with other volunteers, I've learned the following: the legitimacy of this competition is... questionable... volunteers have to do a ton of work by themselves, I was told no other volunteer could come and help me because I'm the only volunteer in my rayon (and they seem to want to flaunt that to no end), and, lets face it, it's freakin Christmas day!! That, and it's supposed to go on for a ridiculous amount of time, from 8 am to 7-8 pm.
The second issue is that I was planning to do stuff prior to this aggrivating olympic thing. I went to Talas and bought 2 kilos of apples, 2 kilos of flour, a bunch of sugar and butter, and was planning on making a pie and some cookies at least. If I had time I would try my hand at chicken (perhaps fried since I have a ton of flour), potatoes, and corn -- not the typical Christmas fare, but my request for the traditional family holiday food wasn't granted. Not that that matters much at this point in any case because I'm now left with all the classes my counterpart said I would have off in order to cover them, by myself. Wonderful! So I have next to no time for any sort of food preparation, all day at this event so no time for gifts, and one rather large (and growing) headache.
Things aren't all terrible though. Today I held club (instead of the standard Friday - considering moving club to Tuesday permanantly from now on 'cause it might be easier) and got to show off all sorts of Christmas stuff to my students. My santa hat, stocking, mini Christmas tree, jingling bells, cards (which are rare here, I believe) with vivid pictures on them. I showed off the new vocabulary and explained how Christmas in America works. Then I wrote out some lyrics to Jingle Bells, played it on my computer, then sang it to the class (uh, yeah... I think I made some kids sick from that, but I only have the orchestra versions of most Xmas songs, so no words). Afterwards I got to tell them that Santa came to me early, cause he knows there's an American living in Kyrgyzstan here in my village, and give them some wonderful presents from the US and KY. Felt pretty good, first time I've had a decent smile on my face for a good part of the day. After club with my 7th formers, some of the girls came up to me and gave me a card (very impressed, even if it's in Russian) and a kalpak (very dignified and honorable gift in Kyrgyzstan - can't believe I have 3 already). I thanked them, and proceeded to fight back the tears as I choked up a bit. Had to get ready for the next club and all.
Yesterday I helped put up the Christmas tree. Reactions afterword tell me most people here get something small and plasticy for personal trees, maybe about 2-3 feet high. However, my family has (had?) a tree in the side-yard type section of our home, so my 15 yr old brother and I went out to determine how best to tackle getting said giant into said house. I just kind of figured cut it in half and it'll be good -- the tree had to have been about 10 feet tall. So we grab the 'ladder' (really just a bunch of metal... uh... spokes? stuck inbetween two pieces of wood) and saw, and he climbs up to saw the thing in half. Now there's half a tree sitting in the yard, it's upper half gone. Yikes! But at least the part cut off looks good. Of course we had to clean it of all the leaves and snow and gunk, but afterwards it worked out ok... up until the point when we got it inside, and figured that this family has nothing in the way of a stand. So we prop 'ol toppy up with a chair and go about the house looking for things that will work -- after quite a bit of time, we end up finding an old metal grate/crate type thing that one could imagine being an old-style milk carrier (when people got milk delivered to their door every day) but had empty vodka bottles in it, and an old can to prop the trunk in and act as a water holder (what?!? you water the tree?? -- my family in response to me). Add some string to the tree and grate/crate, and viola -- Christmas tree! The decorations for it are rather... interesting. There are about 10 ornaments for this 5 foot tree, one string of lights, and tons of what I would consider Mardi Gras boas, something my (US) brother might have worn ages ago (or still might?). Only the front side is decorated, the tree being stuffed in a corner purposefully. But hey, it works! And we have a tree.
I'm sitting here now, flabergasted and indecisive. What to do, what to do. I have all the things necessary to celebrate Christmas -- everything but the time. Urg @ celebrating New Years and New Years alone...
--
I decided to not show up to classes on Wednesday. First, my counterpart told me I could and should do so, primarily because she would be giving the (fairly pointless) quarterly test to the students. However, that fell through as mentioned earlier. But I realized from my contract that I can not (as in, it's possible for me to not do so... why didn't I write this out better in the first place... ugh and I'm an English teacher... I speek the good) hold a class if my counterpart isn't present, which helps me out a ton since I don't have the books, inclination to drone out a dictation/copy the text test, or a clue as to how the lesson plans should be followed. So yeah, in short, I skipped the stuff that would have been dumped on me if I just let things slide like I've been doing for a long time now.
Instead, I spent Wednesday preparing and baking. I of course went to my club, that's natural, and presented my Christmas lesson to everyone. I also met up with my good counterpart and distributed gifts to my second graders -- it was a surprise for everyone, particularly since after not going to classes my spirits were lifted to a point where I refused to not wear my newly acquired Santa hat everywhere for the next two days. Around noon I prepared a pie crust from scratch -- had to wait to do much else because of no electricity and time, so after club I came back to do some serious business. The crust had plenty of time to cool, so I got to work peeling, coring, and slicing about 3, 3 1/2 pounds of apples. Once that was done, I got to work with my flour and sugar and butter and cinammon, and an hour or so later, voila! My first pie ever, and it was all made from scratch (take that ready made crust!). The only thing is it was an apple pie, but I didn't make a second round of dough to put on top, so it was an open faced pie. Still delicious though! And very American. I also made some chocolate chip cookies -- those are easy as cake (hmm... now there's an idea... maybe after I have pie down pat) to me now. Christmas must be, doggonnit!
Wednesday night, after a dinner of monte (dumplings, meat n potatoes n onions steamed inside pasta -- a more-than-ordinary dish for the occassion), I decided to step out into the living room and watch the tree for a while -- something I would do back home from time to time because it gives me a sense of peace and happiness. I took some paper and scissors out with me as well. After about 20 minutes or so, the kids of the fam came in and they had the stockings that my eje made, so we hung those up. I then showed them (sorta) how to cut out 'ornaments' for the tree using the paper -- soon I was bringing out the ribbon/string stuff from one of my packages to use as hanging material, markers, pencils, etc. It was pretty darn fun! Most everyone made at least something, and the decorating brought some more life to the scene. Ho ha it's Christmas time! After a while, everyone settled down a little bit, and at 12 the power turned off (per usual). However, it took the kids a rather long time to go to sleep, so I spent 12-1 preparing the gifts etc. with names and all that good stuff. At 1 I ventured out and became Santa for the first time -- it was certainly not easy, especially since the kids are in the next room with the door open. But I managed, got all the gifts out, had to dump the contents of the goody bags into stockings 'cause they wouldn't fit (sorry, the goody bags were excellent, but the stocking trumps it here), put the oranges I bought in the stockings as well, evaded my eje coming in at about 1:40, put out the note from Santa, ate the cookies left out, and in general just left a nice spread of gifts around the tree and in the stockings. Not easy, very tiring, but as I would come to learn oh so worth it!
On Christmas morning we all woke up and got to see the gifts. I sensed something of a subtle shock -- unfortunately we all woke up around 7 or so, and we had to leave for this olympic competition at 8, so I told the family we should open the presents at night (as, you know, we should open presents together on Christmas!). Christmas is just another day in Kyrgyzstan, so everyone went to school/work. My two older host sisters and myself were going to the olympiad, so it would be a long long day. After arriving at school, and trying to figure out what the heck is going on because A)nothing was explained to me, at all and B)no counterpart, we get in a marshrutka to head to the rayon center. When I say we, I mean *WE*. There had to have been 30 people stuffed into this marshrutka -- people sitting on laps, standing on one another, crooning necks to fit -- the thing was a human sardine can, and we had to travel for at least 20 or 30 minutes.
When we got off at the school the olympiads was taking place at, there was one thought that crossed my mind -- I feel like Mr. Stallone in Rocky IV after he gets off the plane in Russia. The sky was a cold grey, things were quite snowy, and the school seemed a bit large and daunting. I knew then and there that this would be no picnic and I was in for a long, rough day. After figuring out where to go, I convene with a bunch of other teachers. Keep in mind, I have my Santa hat on throughout this whole thing, so people are calling out "Santa Claus" to me all day -- not a bad thing, per se, just a note. After the convening breaks the English teachers get together to go over what we'll be doing for the day. In the middle of it all I get a call from home -- ugh, bad timing, I wanted to break away from this work to talk but needed to stay on my toes and on top of things, lest I be completely excluded and the typical Kyrgyz schenanigans win the day. So the template is set - grammar, reading, listening, and interview portions of everything for the students. Also note, the other teachers are speaking in Kyrgyz 99% of the time, and this is an English competition.
I was delegated to throughout the day. First I was set with the task of reading a poorly copied text, half the words missing, coming up with 5 "easy" questions for it, then writing it all out on the blackboard. Of course when I start writing, the Kyrgyz teachers chide me and say I need to write bigger, with quite a tone of mock, amusement, and superiority. So whatever, I write bigger. Then it's time for the questions. Now, students in Kyrgyzstan always always always memorize to the letter certain things, so if you throw them something other than what's on track with that they're like fish out of water. My questions befuddled so many of them, and I gave multiple choice to the questions that weren't yes/no. And there were only five questions. After that I had to conduct the listening section. I read a text, they listen, try to understand, and answer five questions about the text (all of which comes from a book). I read this text very slowly three times, and most students didn't even answer the question. My thought is that they don't understand me - they understand the incorrect and garbled English of their teachers, and English coming from anyone else is nonsense to them (even a different Kyrgyz teacher). So that's done, and then I move on to the interview portion. Or at least, that's what I should have been doing. Instead these five ladies who are speaking more Kyrgyz than English throw me all the tests to correct. Whatever, I though -- I know English and can grade them faster than they can. By the time I'm done with grading, most of the interviews are done -- I only got to ask questions to one girl, so I only got to test actual knowledge instead of what was memorized with one student from the 9th form.
After our lunch of only-god-knows-what (looked like prison gruel), we get back into the mix with the interviews etc. First I have to reinterview some 9th formers because there's a "split decision" -- I do that and pick the best, wasn't easy but I made the right decision. Then I'm charged with interviewing the 10th formers, the 'superiors' get to interview the 11th formers. Most students knew their memorized lines, but nothing deviating from that. One or two kids knew were a bit more advanced, and I gave them better scores. The most irritating thing, though, is that one of the 'elite 5' was sitting in with me, and she would literally laugh and jest when kids didn't know anything, sometimes righ in their face -- one kid had some nasty words for us when the interview was over. I wanted to punch her in the face; she was so unprofessional and demeaning, I have no idea how she got onto this commission. But, I finish with the 10th formers and pick the best. Afterwards I go back to the other 'elites' and get to sit in and ask questions about 1/4 way through an interview. This kid knows his stuff, I think, as we're talking about more advanced topics like ecological and youth problems (albeit these were set topics so the kids had prepared texts to memorize). But I got to ask him some questions, what he wanted to be after school (a judge), how he could help with problems as a judge, etc. He could speak and speak well, and just seemed overall intelligent. Most of the other students didn't meet the 'elite' criteria so they were banished, although I found ways to rephrase the questions in order to get at least some response instead of instantly dismissing those who hadn't pored over something premade. We then got to a girl who knew English fairly well -- she was slower in answering questions and I had to rephrase a couple times, but she knew her stuff. It essentially came down to this girl and the boy from earlier -- the 'elite' let me pick. It wasn't easy, but in my opinion the boy performed better, so I chose him #1.
After all the interviews were done, the 'elite' gathered together and quarrelled for about an hour or an hour and a half about who did what, who was good, who was bad, etc. This is where all the tomfoolery went on. They all had a scoring system, but they didn't take that into regard. "Oh, the student who got the highest score isn't good... we should pick someone else," or "This is my student, he/she knows English very well, they should be first." I noticed that they decided to throw out my listening scored and do some nonsense scores of their own -- as we all know, Kyrgyz people speak English better than, say, the American who comes here to teach English. Now, I was supposed to have the last word on who would win in the competition (and I did for the 11th form), but for the 10th and 9th form they decided to do their own thing. So, for the 10th form they picked some girl who couldn't answer any of my questions (and even struggled with the "Kyrgyz interpretation") instead of a girl who could speak quite well, didn't have to go off of memorized texts, etc. all because the girl who got 1st was one of the 'elite's' students. That's why I needed to be on my toes, but as I started to bring it up they were already signing things and writing in the books. Ugh!! KYRGYZSTAN!!! Why must things be so damn corrupt here.
So we're finished at about 5:30, and start handing out the awards etc. First the 9th formers, then the 10th formers. The 11th formers are called out, and given their prizes. The girl who got 2nd place literally broke down into tears, no joke. After everyone left, the 'elite' told me, "You have to stay here, so sit and listen to the mother of the girl who got 2nd place," and then they all booked it. Thanks fellow commissioners, you only screwed me the entire day so why should I expect different here?? So I have this angry mom trying to chew me out, saying it's not right her girl got 2nd place. I tell her she knows English very well, but the boy knew it better. No no, that cannot be, you have to retest them, you have to come back here tomorrow and do it. At this point I begin thinking in my Santa hat-bedecked head, "It's Christmas day, I've been dealing with these 5 bats, countless kids who don't know English, corruption, work deferment, I started at 8 am and it's 6 pm right now, I f'n put off a call from home to do this crap, I have a feast waiting at home, presents to have the family open, and it's f'n Christmas Day!!!!" So I got a bit heated and told her no, I'm not retesting, not tomorrow, not Monday, not ever. It doesn't matter if your kid got good scores from other volunteers, the other kid knew better. Bam, I leave. My school's marshrutka is waiting outside, cram-packed with teachers and students again. I wait in it for about 20 minutes, then one of my host family's family members (who happens to be a director or something-or-other in the rayon) comes by and offers a ride in his car to two other teachers and myself. Bliss!
I get home and plov, one of my favorite Kyrgyz foods, is prepared. A table is set up near the Christmas tree, the presents are still all unopened, all sorts of goodies are set up. First I bring out my computer and start playing some Christmas music on it -- thank you Pat n Nat for that! Then I bring out my pie and cookies -- the table is being set, I cut a slice of pie for everyone, everyone has their bowl of plov, coca-cola is served. But first, it's time to take pictures! Oh, and we have to get sparklers out to commemorate the holiday! So everyone first lights their sparkler (over the table, no less), I start snapping pics, then I get to do my own sparkler, then we get cheers pics with the coke, and it's time to dig in! The taste of sheep never really bothered me, and I couldn't but help thinking that as I bit into the gigantic piece they gave me with my plov. After the deliciousness of plov, we got to dig into the pie. Man. Oh. Man. Pie makes me so incrediblely happy. Now I know I can make it, and make it all by scratch. I think the fam sort of enjoyed it, but they aren't too big on cinammon here -- and of course I made a cinammon apple pie. But wow. About 3 pounds of apples in this thing -- it was heaven!
After dinner, it was time to open up presents. I think this night was the best night I've had here, if not from all my time in Kyrgyzstan, then here in Talas, at least. Plenty of pictures taken, lots of bright smiling faces, the wows, the happiness. It made me feel at home. I got smiles in pictures, for cripes sake! I think everyone liked their presents. It was spectacular, as they were all crying out "Rakmat (thank you) Santa Claus!" and trying everything out. Truly a sight to behold, and an event of joy. I thanked them afterwards for celebrating with me our (Americadan Kishi - American people) big holiday. Afterward, as I was walking out to the bathroom, I got a call from home. Splendid! How fortunate that I needed to use the restroom because my cell phone doesn't work all that well inside. A little bittersweet because I miss everyone back home, but I don't think I've laughed this much since leaving the states. Unfortunately we reached the 30 minute mark and the call cut out. Then a small call later from the pops -- a quick Merry Christmas and get back inside before you freeze to death. I went back inside, opened my presents quietly, marveled at how many gloves I now have (4 pair, 4 pair), choked up a bit at a little ornament that was sent, and fell asleep with the phone by my side just in case (and secretly hoping) I'd get a call.
Oh what a Christmas. The bad and the good, it was all here.
--
The morning after Christmas. I'm soundly resting in that state of not fully sleeping yet not awake either when the ring of my cell brings me to reality - the word 'home' is lighted up. Finally, after almost half a year here in Kyrgyzstan, I get a call from home. It was good being able to talk again, especially since the unfortunate olympiad instance intruded upon what should have been my first true call. But things are what they are, and it was highly enjoyable being able to talk again -- I had the full family spectrum between last night and this morning. Glee!
I'm tired, but this tiredness is quite different from the exhaustion of the past few weeks. It's the tiredness of good work. My spirits are high! Whether it's the wonderful gifts that were sent, the effort of one person trying to show a school and family (if not a village/rayon) the Christmas Holiday, or just the magic of the season, I feel great! I've been laughing and smiling more this past week than I have in a long long time. I feel like I can accomplish anything now! Ha ha.
Today I got two visits from my 7th formers. The different sections (7th A, 7th B, 7th V etc.) apparently decided to get me presents from the class. I got another kalpak (collection is at 4 now!), some more cards signed by individual students, President For Men cologne, and this pouch-type thing that has stiched into it "Криске Умуттон" (something like 'from hope to Chris' if translated literally -- and it's pronounced Chriskey uhmuhttuen, roughly). I <3 my students, and not in the creepy teacher/professor who picks on certain students in class sort of way.
Tomorrow the volunteers are getting together in Talas to do a bit of Christmas celebrating. Predicament again: my school is holding it's New Years celebration/dance-a-thon/singing event/whatever you can call it, tomorrow as well. I really want to go to both. Perhaps I'll go to half or most of the school event then head into Talas a bit later. Guess you'll all find out sooner than I will have, 'cause you're all just reading this! Ha. Ok, time for me to stop.
The second issue is that I was planning to do stuff prior to this aggrivating olympic thing. I went to Talas and bought 2 kilos of apples, 2 kilos of flour, a bunch of sugar and butter, and was planning on making a pie and some cookies at least. If I had time I would try my hand at chicken (perhaps fried since I have a ton of flour), potatoes, and corn -- not the typical Christmas fare, but my request for the traditional family holiday food wasn't granted. Not that that matters much at this point in any case because I'm now left with all the classes my counterpart said I would have off in order to cover them, by myself. Wonderful! So I have next to no time for any sort of food preparation, all day at this event so no time for gifts, and one rather large (and growing) headache.
Things aren't all terrible though. Today I held club (instead of the standard Friday - considering moving club to Tuesday permanantly from now on 'cause it might be easier) and got to show off all sorts of Christmas stuff to my students. My santa hat, stocking, mini Christmas tree, jingling bells, cards (which are rare here, I believe) with vivid pictures on them. I showed off the new vocabulary and explained how Christmas in America works. Then I wrote out some lyrics to Jingle Bells, played it on my computer, then sang it to the class (uh, yeah... I think I made some kids sick from that, but I only have the orchestra versions of most Xmas songs, so no words). Afterwards I got to tell them that Santa came to me early, cause he knows there's an American living in Kyrgyzstan here in my village, and give them some wonderful presents from the US and KY. Felt pretty good, first time I've had a decent smile on my face for a good part of the day. After club with my 7th formers, some of the girls came up to me and gave me a card (very impressed, even if it's in Russian) and a kalpak (very dignified and honorable gift in Kyrgyzstan - can't believe I have 3 already). I thanked them, and proceeded to fight back the tears as I choked up a bit. Had to get ready for the next club and all.
Yesterday I helped put up the Christmas tree. Reactions afterword tell me most people here get something small and plasticy for personal trees, maybe about 2-3 feet high. However, my family has (had?) a tree in the side-yard type section of our home, so my 15 yr old brother and I went out to determine how best to tackle getting said giant into said house. I just kind of figured cut it in half and it'll be good -- the tree had to have been about 10 feet tall. So we grab the 'ladder' (really just a bunch of metal... uh... spokes? stuck inbetween two pieces of wood) and saw, and he climbs up to saw the thing in half. Now there's half a tree sitting in the yard, it's upper half gone. Yikes! But at least the part cut off looks good. Of course we had to clean it of all the leaves and snow and gunk, but afterwards it worked out ok... up until the point when we got it inside, and figured that this family has nothing in the way of a stand. So we prop 'ol toppy up with a chair and go about the house looking for things that will work -- after quite a bit of time, we end up finding an old metal grate/crate type thing that one could imagine being an old-style milk carrier (when people got milk delivered to their door every day) but had empty vodka bottles in it, and an old can to prop the trunk in and act as a water holder (what?!? you water the tree?? -- my family in response to me). Add some string to the tree and grate/crate, and viola -- Christmas tree! The decorations for it are rather... interesting. There are about 10 ornaments for this 5 foot tree, one string of lights, and tons of what I would consider Mardi Gras boas, something my (US) brother might have worn ages ago (or still might?). Only the front side is decorated, the tree being stuffed in a corner purposefully. But hey, it works! And we have a tree.
I'm sitting here now, flabergasted and indecisive. What to do, what to do. I have all the things necessary to celebrate Christmas -- everything but the time. Urg @ celebrating New Years and New Years alone...
--
I decided to not show up to classes on Wednesday. First, my counterpart told me I could and should do so, primarily because she would be giving the (fairly pointless) quarterly test to the students. However, that fell through as mentioned earlier. But I realized from my contract that I can not (as in, it's possible for me to not do so... why didn't I write this out better in the first place... ugh and I'm an English teacher... I speek the good) hold a class if my counterpart isn't present, which helps me out a ton since I don't have the books, inclination to drone out a dictation/copy the text test, or a clue as to how the lesson plans should be followed. So yeah, in short, I skipped the stuff that would have been dumped on me if I just let things slide like I've been doing for a long time now.
Instead, I spent Wednesday preparing and baking. I of course went to my club, that's natural, and presented my Christmas lesson to everyone. I also met up with my good counterpart and distributed gifts to my second graders -- it was a surprise for everyone, particularly since after not going to classes my spirits were lifted to a point where I refused to not wear my newly acquired Santa hat everywhere for the next two days. Around noon I prepared a pie crust from scratch -- had to wait to do much else because of no electricity and time, so after club I came back to do some serious business. The crust had plenty of time to cool, so I got to work peeling, coring, and slicing about 3, 3 1/2 pounds of apples. Once that was done, I got to work with my flour and sugar and butter and cinammon, and an hour or so later, voila! My first pie ever, and it was all made from scratch (take that ready made crust!). The only thing is it was an apple pie, but I didn't make a second round of dough to put on top, so it was an open faced pie. Still delicious though! And very American. I also made some chocolate chip cookies -- those are easy as cake (hmm... now there's an idea... maybe after I have pie down pat) to me now. Christmas must be, doggonnit!
Wednesday night, after a dinner of monte (dumplings, meat n potatoes n onions steamed inside pasta -- a more-than-ordinary dish for the occassion), I decided to step out into the living room and watch the tree for a while -- something I would do back home from time to time because it gives me a sense of peace and happiness. I took some paper and scissors out with me as well. After about 20 minutes or so, the kids of the fam came in and they had the stockings that my eje made, so we hung those up. I then showed them (sorta) how to cut out 'ornaments' for the tree using the paper -- soon I was bringing out the ribbon/string stuff from one of my packages to use as hanging material, markers, pencils, etc. It was pretty darn fun! Most everyone made at least something, and the decorating brought some more life to the scene. Ho ha it's Christmas time! After a while, everyone settled down a little bit, and at 12 the power turned off (per usual). However, it took the kids a rather long time to go to sleep, so I spent 12-1 preparing the gifts etc. with names and all that good stuff. At 1 I ventured out and became Santa for the first time -- it was certainly not easy, especially since the kids are in the next room with the door open. But I managed, got all the gifts out, had to dump the contents of the goody bags into stockings 'cause they wouldn't fit (sorry, the goody bags were excellent, but the stocking trumps it here), put the oranges I bought in the stockings as well, evaded my eje coming in at about 1:40, put out the note from Santa, ate the cookies left out, and in general just left a nice spread of gifts around the tree and in the stockings. Not easy, very tiring, but as I would come to learn oh so worth it!
On Christmas morning we all woke up and got to see the gifts. I sensed something of a subtle shock -- unfortunately we all woke up around 7 or so, and we had to leave for this olympic competition at 8, so I told the family we should open the presents at night (as, you know, we should open presents together on Christmas!). Christmas is just another day in Kyrgyzstan, so everyone went to school/work. My two older host sisters and myself were going to the olympiad, so it would be a long long day. After arriving at school, and trying to figure out what the heck is going on because A)nothing was explained to me, at all and B)no counterpart, we get in a marshrutka to head to the rayon center. When I say we, I mean *WE*. There had to have been 30 people stuffed into this marshrutka -- people sitting on laps, standing on one another, crooning necks to fit -- the thing was a human sardine can, and we had to travel for at least 20 or 30 minutes.
When we got off at the school the olympiads was taking place at, there was one thought that crossed my mind -- I feel like Mr. Stallone in Rocky IV after he gets off the plane in Russia. The sky was a cold grey, things were quite snowy, and the school seemed a bit large and daunting. I knew then and there that this would be no picnic and I was in for a long, rough day. After figuring out where to go, I convene with a bunch of other teachers. Keep in mind, I have my Santa hat on throughout this whole thing, so people are calling out "Santa Claus" to me all day -- not a bad thing, per se, just a note. After the convening breaks the English teachers get together to go over what we'll be doing for the day. In the middle of it all I get a call from home -- ugh, bad timing, I wanted to break away from this work to talk but needed to stay on my toes and on top of things, lest I be completely excluded and the typical Kyrgyz schenanigans win the day. So the template is set - grammar, reading, listening, and interview portions of everything for the students. Also note, the other teachers are speaking in Kyrgyz 99% of the time, and this is an English competition.
I was delegated to throughout the day. First I was set with the task of reading a poorly copied text, half the words missing, coming up with 5 "easy" questions for it, then writing it all out on the blackboard. Of course when I start writing, the Kyrgyz teachers chide me and say I need to write bigger, with quite a tone of mock, amusement, and superiority. So whatever, I write bigger. Then it's time for the questions. Now, students in Kyrgyzstan always always always memorize to the letter certain things, so if you throw them something other than what's on track with that they're like fish out of water. My questions befuddled so many of them, and I gave multiple choice to the questions that weren't yes/no. And there were only five questions. After that I had to conduct the listening section. I read a text, they listen, try to understand, and answer five questions about the text (all of which comes from a book). I read this text very slowly three times, and most students didn't even answer the question. My thought is that they don't understand me - they understand the incorrect and garbled English of their teachers, and English coming from anyone else is nonsense to them (even a different Kyrgyz teacher). So that's done, and then I move on to the interview portion. Or at least, that's what I should have been doing. Instead these five ladies who are speaking more Kyrgyz than English throw me all the tests to correct. Whatever, I though -- I know English and can grade them faster than they can. By the time I'm done with grading, most of the interviews are done -- I only got to ask questions to one girl, so I only got to test actual knowledge instead of what was memorized with one student from the 9th form.
After our lunch of only-god-knows-what (looked like prison gruel), we get back into the mix with the interviews etc. First I have to reinterview some 9th formers because there's a "split decision" -- I do that and pick the best, wasn't easy but I made the right decision. Then I'm charged with interviewing the 10th formers, the 'superiors' get to interview the 11th formers. Most students knew their memorized lines, but nothing deviating from that. One or two kids knew were a bit more advanced, and I gave them better scores. The most irritating thing, though, is that one of the 'elite 5' was sitting in with me, and she would literally laugh and jest when kids didn't know anything, sometimes righ in their face -- one kid had some nasty words for us when the interview was over. I wanted to punch her in the face; she was so unprofessional and demeaning, I have no idea how she got onto this commission. But, I finish with the 10th formers and pick the best. Afterwards I go back to the other 'elites' and get to sit in and ask questions about 1/4 way through an interview. This kid knows his stuff, I think, as we're talking about more advanced topics like ecological and youth problems (albeit these were set topics so the kids had prepared texts to memorize). But I got to ask him some questions, what he wanted to be after school (a judge), how he could help with problems as a judge, etc. He could speak and speak well, and just seemed overall intelligent. Most of the other students didn't meet the 'elite' criteria so they were banished, although I found ways to rephrase the questions in order to get at least some response instead of instantly dismissing those who hadn't pored over something premade. We then got to a girl who knew English fairly well -- she was slower in answering questions and I had to rephrase a couple times, but she knew her stuff. It essentially came down to this girl and the boy from earlier -- the 'elite' let me pick. It wasn't easy, but in my opinion the boy performed better, so I chose him #1.
After all the interviews were done, the 'elite' gathered together and quarrelled for about an hour or an hour and a half about who did what, who was good, who was bad, etc. This is where all the tomfoolery went on. They all had a scoring system, but they didn't take that into regard. "Oh, the student who got the highest score isn't good... we should pick someone else," or "This is my student, he/she knows English very well, they should be first." I noticed that they decided to throw out my listening scored and do some nonsense scores of their own -- as we all know, Kyrgyz people speak English better than, say, the American who comes here to teach English. Now, I was supposed to have the last word on who would win in the competition (and I did for the 11th form), but for the 10th and 9th form they decided to do their own thing. So, for the 10th form they picked some girl who couldn't answer any of my questions (and even struggled with the "Kyrgyz interpretation") instead of a girl who could speak quite well, didn't have to go off of memorized texts, etc. all because the girl who got 1st was one of the 'elite's' students. That's why I needed to be on my toes, but as I started to bring it up they were already signing things and writing in the books. Ugh!! KYRGYZSTAN!!! Why must things be so damn corrupt here.
So we're finished at about 5:30, and start handing out the awards etc. First the 9th formers, then the 10th formers. The 11th formers are called out, and given their prizes. The girl who got 2nd place literally broke down into tears, no joke. After everyone left, the 'elite' told me, "You have to stay here, so sit and listen to the mother of the girl who got 2nd place," and then they all booked it. Thanks fellow commissioners, you only screwed me the entire day so why should I expect different here?? So I have this angry mom trying to chew me out, saying it's not right her girl got 2nd place. I tell her she knows English very well, but the boy knew it better. No no, that cannot be, you have to retest them, you have to come back here tomorrow and do it. At this point I begin thinking in my Santa hat-bedecked head, "It's Christmas day, I've been dealing with these 5 bats, countless kids who don't know English, corruption, work deferment, I started at 8 am and it's 6 pm right now, I f'n put off a call from home to do this crap, I have a feast waiting at home, presents to have the family open, and it's f'n Christmas Day!!!!" So I got a bit heated and told her no, I'm not retesting, not tomorrow, not Monday, not ever. It doesn't matter if your kid got good scores from other volunteers, the other kid knew better. Bam, I leave. My school's marshrutka is waiting outside, cram-packed with teachers and students again. I wait in it for about 20 minutes, then one of my host family's family members (who happens to be a director or something-or-other in the rayon) comes by and offers a ride in his car to two other teachers and myself. Bliss!
I get home and plov, one of my favorite Kyrgyz foods, is prepared. A table is set up near the Christmas tree, the presents are still all unopened, all sorts of goodies are set up. First I bring out my computer and start playing some Christmas music on it -- thank you Pat n Nat for that! Then I bring out my pie and cookies -- the table is being set, I cut a slice of pie for everyone, everyone has their bowl of plov, coca-cola is served. But first, it's time to take pictures! Oh, and we have to get sparklers out to commemorate the holiday! So everyone first lights their sparkler (over the table, no less), I start snapping pics, then I get to do my own sparkler, then we get cheers pics with the coke, and it's time to dig in! The taste of sheep never really bothered me, and I couldn't but help thinking that as I bit into the gigantic piece they gave me with my plov. After the deliciousness of plov, we got to dig into the pie. Man. Oh. Man. Pie makes me so incrediblely happy. Now I know I can make it, and make it all by scratch. I think the fam sort of enjoyed it, but they aren't too big on cinammon here -- and of course I made a cinammon apple pie. But wow. About 3 pounds of apples in this thing -- it was heaven!
After dinner, it was time to open up presents. I think this night was the best night I've had here, if not from all my time in Kyrgyzstan, then here in Talas, at least. Plenty of pictures taken, lots of bright smiling faces, the wows, the happiness. It made me feel at home. I got smiles in pictures, for cripes sake! I think everyone liked their presents. It was spectacular, as they were all crying out "Rakmat (thank you) Santa Claus!" and trying everything out. Truly a sight to behold, and an event of joy. I thanked them afterwards for celebrating with me our (Americadan Kishi - American people) big holiday. Afterward, as I was walking out to the bathroom, I got a call from home. Splendid! How fortunate that I needed to use the restroom because my cell phone doesn't work all that well inside. A little bittersweet because I miss everyone back home, but I don't think I've laughed this much since leaving the states. Unfortunately we reached the 30 minute mark and the call cut out. Then a small call later from the pops -- a quick Merry Christmas and get back inside before you freeze to death. I went back inside, opened my presents quietly, marveled at how many gloves I now have (4 pair, 4 pair), choked up a bit at a little ornament that was sent, and fell asleep with the phone by my side just in case (and secretly hoping) I'd get a call.
Oh what a Christmas. The bad and the good, it was all here.
--
The morning after Christmas. I'm soundly resting in that state of not fully sleeping yet not awake either when the ring of my cell brings me to reality - the word 'home' is lighted up. Finally, after almost half a year here in Kyrgyzstan, I get a call from home. It was good being able to talk again, especially since the unfortunate olympiad instance intruded upon what should have been my first true call. But things are what they are, and it was highly enjoyable being able to talk again -- I had the full family spectrum between last night and this morning. Glee!
I'm tired, but this tiredness is quite different from the exhaustion of the past few weeks. It's the tiredness of good work. My spirits are high! Whether it's the wonderful gifts that were sent, the effort of one person trying to show a school and family (if not a village/rayon) the Christmas Holiday, or just the magic of the season, I feel great! I've been laughing and smiling more this past week than I have in a long long time. I feel like I can accomplish anything now! Ha ha.
Today I got two visits from my 7th formers. The different sections (7th A, 7th B, 7th V etc.) apparently decided to get me presents from the class. I got another kalpak (collection is at 4 now!), some more cards signed by individual students, President For Men cologne, and this pouch-type thing that has stiched into it "Криске Умуттон" (something like 'from hope to Chris' if translated literally -- and it's pronounced Chriskey uhmuhttuen, roughly). I <3 my students, and not in the creepy teacher/professor who picks on certain students in class sort of way.
Tomorrow the volunteers are getting together in Talas to do a bit of Christmas celebrating. Predicament again: my school is holding it's New Years celebration/dance-a-thon/singing event/whatever you can call it, tomorrow as well. I really want to go to both. Perhaps I'll go to half or most of the school event then head into Talas a bit later. Guess you'll all find out sooner than I will have, 'cause you're all just reading this! Ha. Ok, time for me to stop.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Thanksgiving and Beyond!
Thanksgiving was, to put it mildly, absolutely incredible! While I was trudging through Naryn and Chuy to make it back to Talas, the other volunteers of the oblast banded together to put together a most impressive feast. I chipped in with a salad (re: American salad, not any 'ol thing thrown together visavi Kyrgyz salad), which was decent considering I had a whole 1-2 hours to do what I needed (like go to the bazaar and find lettuce, dressing ingredients, etc). But man oh man. This Thanksgiving, despite being celebrated on the Saturday following actual Thanksgiving, was incredible.
First, let me just say, Thanksgiving is Talas' big holiday. It's always celebrated, sort of in a full-blown manner, and we invite people from other oblasts to attend. Nobody from other oblasts came, but still. This Thanksgiving was the first time all the volunteers in the oblast got together to do anything, which is a feat in and of itself. Now, enough about that gibberty-gab. On to the feast!
Wow. Just wow. There was so much. My salad of course. But everyone made something and brought it: the best deviled eggs I've ever tasted, mashed potatoes, corn with some sort of magical sauce mixed in, real stuffing, gravy, biscuits, cornbread, mac n' cheese. One volunteer made a batch of potato salad and a batch of carrots; he got too carried away with the vinegar, so those were ruined... he also made some weird carrot ball thing, wasn't a fan of that either. But, the most wonderful things of all had to be the following:
Turkey. Not just one turkey, but two turkies. One volunteer bought a couple and fed them for a couple weeks (we all chipped in to buy 'em), and the day before T-day the turkies were slaughtered and stuffed. We spent a good deal of time baking the turkies, praying for the electricity to still be working -- which it did! Also, we had 5 pumpkin pies. Five pumpkin pies! These were quite possibly the best pumpkin pies I've ever eaten. Now here I must say - everything was made from scratch. There's no such thing as a quick-mix or pre-made something-or-other here in Kyrgyzstan, so everything was handmade. This made everything mean quite a lot, and I think even despite not having much in the way of American food for quite a while, it was simply an exquisitely scrumptious and delicious meal, even by non-KY food standards! This Thanksgiving was the first time in-country that my stomach hurt, and hurt real bad, from something other than being sick. I don't think I've ever, ever been that full in my life. My friends sleeping at the apartment with me lamented this -- I was apparantly snoring, which doesn't happen all that often any more (I think...).
After coming back from Thanksgiving, thoroughly broke from my trip to Naryn et al, I started work once again. The epidemic has cleared! Well, I must say that it felt good getting back into the thick of things. In particular, I think things with my one counterpart who said she didn't want to work with me are turning out to be alright. We've determined that we should divide our classes so that one teacher will observe and assist while the other runs classes - it works out decently because we teach each form (i.e. 11th A, 11th B, 10th A, 10th B etc) two times each every week. So far so good - we're just back to the normal problem of students not doing work and not caring about class. Fun!
I started up my club this week. I think I chose a bad time to start - there was some sort of "ball" going on where the 11th formers were dancing and singing and... oh who knows. I scheduled things so that on my one true free day, Friday, I'll give two sessions of club in the morning to the 7th formers, and two sessions in the afternoon - one to the 10th formers, one to the 11th formers. So I show up at 9, the time I scheduled for my first group of 7th formers. The classroom I was told I could use (re: it's free!) wasn't free -- some 8th formers have class in there. That, and none of my students show up. So at 9:20 I go back home - no point in sticking around. At 9:50 there are some students calling throughout the house for my host eje - not that they couldn't call for me, so they just yell out her name for a full minute straight. How come you're not at school, they inquire. How about because you all probably came at 9:30 or 9:40 for my club that was supposed to start at 9. That's Kyrgyz, to the dot.
I scheduled things to have an hour interval between club sessions - give myself some time to breathe, particularly since all my classes throughout the week are nonstop. But no. Nobody wants to come in at 9. We want to come in at 11. No, that's when I'm giving my second morning session. Fine fine, 10 it is. Ugh. And this is supposed to be my free day, too. I go in, things start up around 10:20 for my first session, and everything goes fine. Second session as well, though the classroom situation is highly aggrivating (hey, uh, students, do you know of any free classrooms around here?). I show up for my first afternoon session at 1 -- two problems. First, the 11th formers are in the classroom I'm using for afternoon sessions doing some intense dance tryout thing for their ball. Second, no students show up. Splendid! At least I got the 7th formers in, albeit with a very crummy first session time-change. I'm going to work on making advertisements or something...
Despite the club, however, I've been feeling pretty good this week. I think having snacks and food from America help out so much -- being able to supplement my potato and oil diet makes me feel better physically, and having foods I just simply enjoy is doing wonders for me emotionally. My counterparts are turning out to be pretty good -- actually had a meaningful talk with one (not the one who didn't like me two weeks ago) about her family and all sorts of stuff. Was good, in the sense that we got to talk in such a manner - most of the topics weren't so good in and of themselves though. One thing I'm concerned about, however, is my work load -- toward the end of the week I've been feeling a bit nauseous and light-headed, particularly when in class. It's most difficult on days where I have classes straight through the day with no real breaks. I also feel tired quite often. I do feel good emotionally, though. I'll give things another week to see how they go -- I'm working about 7 hours more than I should, and it will be more when I add a full 6 more hours with club.
Tomorrow I'm heading into Talas to see my friend in Talas. He's an older volunteer, in his 50's, and he's teaching at the university. I feel bad because the typical romp of the volunteer majority doesn't suit him - he's not alone in that regard, though. He had a good point during Thanksgiving - if we were anything but volunteers, none of us would really associate with him. Still, he's a good person, has valuable experience, and I enjoy spending time with him. He's also pretty damn funny, and one of the few people (re: Americans) I think I've connected with here. He may be a New Yorker, but we're alike in many regards. Oh geez... is Kyrgyzstan breaking down my prejudice against New York?!?
--
Ow. My head hasn't felt this bad in a long time. I'm retracting my statement of working 7 hours more than I should and replacing it with 14 -- previously I was only regarding actual physical time spent in the classroom, not time spent in the school overall. That, plus schedule changes, and... Yeah, teaching 32 hours in a week is not something I should be doing, but it pretty much is. I feel like I'm being taken advantage of. For example, today both of my counterparts came to school, and at the 4th morning lesson they told me they were going shopping/preparing for some German language thing. Basically, I was ditched and left to teach nonstop classes for the rest of the day, which went on until 6:15 pm (they left me at 10:30 am). I'm feeling so exhausted, and days like this don't help - particularly since I don't even get a break to eat during the day. It leaves me with no time to pursue learning Kyrgyz further (I still don't have a tutor, thank you very much schedule...), look for secondary project opportunities, or even simply recouperate. I need to have a good talk. No classroom to call my own (which is turning into a big problem, particularly as my club is starting to kick off), teaching so many classes on my own, teaching so many hours I shouldn't be, teaching classes I shouldn't be (the young 'uns), teaching on days I shouldn't be (Saturdays)... It's a good thing they don't pay me -- for them, not for me.
The other day I was in a fairly amusing position. After going guesting for one of the Muslim holiday celibrations, I was approached by what I would describe as a fairly inebriated fellow. He kept beckoning, wanting me to go with him to a "garage" to "drink tea." Realizing the comedy of such a statement, as well as the circumstances, I just said no, I'm going home. He didn't understand, apparently, and proceeded to lock his arm into mine (ala father-daughter wedding style) in an attempt to take me with him. I sort of know the guy, and know nothing bad would really happen, so I just took a step then stopped with him. Afterward some of the local kids came up to us -- they provided translation services. I gave them Kyrgyz, and they gave this guy... Kyrgyz. The guy "Harashaw'ed" (ok'ed) it, then went on his merry way.
Recently I went through most of The Office, from season 1-4. Great show. I just have to say, in episode 4 of season 4, at about 14:20 or so minutes into it, there's a decent idea of what I go through here here. However, I must say, that particular "item" is quite a bit higher quality than what I'm used to.
--
16/12/08
Last week was rough. Very rough. I haven't felt this exhausted since pulling my college all-nighters (for work, not play), my 4 a.m. trip to New York for my PC interview, after running Save Darfur Week, etc. The deal is, I teach thirty-two hours in a week when I should only be teaching eighteen. It certainly doesn't help when both my counterparts come up to me on our busiest day and tell me they're going out shopping then to some party/presentation (it's all the same here pretty much) well before even half the lessons of the day are over -- 7 classes to teach on my own, just what I needed. During that time I had to deal with the crazy kung-fu 2nd graders again (spent well over half the class time trying to pick kids up off from one another -- they were smacking the bejesus out of each other...) and my 7th graders weren't much better. Some kids in my 7th "v" form decided to start throwing pens at me -- they picked the wrong day, as I proceeded to kick them out of class then call the zavuch (vice-principal) on them. Stuff like this just makes me not want to get up in the morning.
Whoever designed spoons is evil. This is for two reasons: 1) Kyrgyz people utilize the spoon as their primary eating utensil, which makes it ridiculous sometimes to eat (ala long pasta -- and sometimes I feel like a damn artist when we eat with forks, esp. with knives, as they all blunder through it) and 2) It makes peanut butter go sooooo fast. I swore I would only eat, maybe, a few spoonfuls, but "just one more..." later and the entire jar is gone. Granted, it was after my terrible terrible day, but man. The peanut butter, ambrosia mix, peanut butter crackers, pineapple bars... all gone. My stock is down to a couple Nature Valley bars, some grape jelly, and half a bag of dried pineapple. Deliciousness cannot be contained in Kyrgyzstan. What's also amazing is this: I've seen them before, I know about them, but damn if I don't feel like neanderthal man discovering fire for the first time every time I open one of the drink packets and pour it into my distilled water. It's such a relief after chai (tea) 24/7, with the only other real relief being coffee or vodka. I'll sometimes get juice but it's typically expensive, and while it tastes good most of the time it's not real juice. Most people here simply use it as chaser.
Thank you one and all who sent me food. It's truly something that lifts my spirits, keeps me healthy of mind and body, and just simply tastes good!
Last week my not-so-nice counterpart decided to tell me that she had signed me up, or something involving a whole lot of not me, for the rayon olympiad competitions. Now, it's not that I don't want to do it (I do), it's just that I'd like to, you know, be involved in maybe a discussion or two with the people involved instead of being dictated to that I'll be doing something (and most likely 2nd, 3rd, 4th hand at that). It aggrivates me because I'm just told "Yup, you're going to be 'insert title here' and will go in on Saturday and you get to help our students," which is basically telling me I'm doing something about which I have no idea. I was told yesterday that I get to come in today at 10 and help our students with English. Forget the fact that I have no idea with what, it just looks like I can help with English ('cause, you know, that's not an extremely broad topic or anything). Arg! I can't stand having no say in what the heck I'm doing, and being told I'll do something yet there are absolutely no parameters within which to work. I think this counterpart is doing this a lot with me -- she told me not to show up at teachers' meetings because 'I wouldn't understand and would get bored,' takes things I should hand in to the director, freaks out at very innocuous and nonchalant comments (like, 'Can my friend come see the olympiad competition?' as her eyes pop out of her head and she goes on about me being the only volunteer in the rayon...), and just, I dunno, very skittery and suspect.
--
I just got back from school, where I was supposed to meet with the students about their olympiad experience. I was told to meet them at 10:00. I get to the teacher's lounge at 9:55. At 10:35, still no sign of the students, and I'm wondering what kind of crock my counterpart put me up to because all the students are in class. So I leave, go to the store, and buy some cell phone units. Now I'm back home, on a day I would have gone to the nearby town (bigger than a village I would say) to get some work done (they have a fax machine, and a bazaar) but didn't because I was told about this ridiculous olympiad thing. Fun!
I'm starting to disect my schedule in order to make it more manageable. I think I'm simply going to cut all my Saturday classes -- finally give myself the day off for good. I might also cut my Wednesday classes out - that will give me free mornings, with club in the afternoon. If I can find a language tutor I might be able to work it in during Tuesday/Wednesday. My schedule would look like this: Monday morning and afternoon classes, Tuesday free, Wednesday afternoon club, Thursday morning and afternoon classes, Friday morning and afternoon club. Seeing it like that, it makes me think I'm cutting quite a bit out. But the schedule here is really strange -- every class is packed in with as little breathing room as possible, so it would be rather full days. Hmm. I'll look things over again.
First, let me just say, Thanksgiving is Talas' big holiday. It's always celebrated, sort of in a full-blown manner, and we invite people from other oblasts to attend. Nobody from other oblasts came, but still. This Thanksgiving was the first time all the volunteers in the oblast got together to do anything, which is a feat in and of itself. Now, enough about that gibberty-gab. On to the feast!
Wow. Just wow. There was so much. My salad of course. But everyone made something and brought it: the best deviled eggs I've ever tasted, mashed potatoes, corn with some sort of magical sauce mixed in, real stuffing, gravy, biscuits, cornbread, mac n' cheese. One volunteer made a batch of potato salad and a batch of carrots; he got too carried away with the vinegar, so those were ruined... he also made some weird carrot ball thing, wasn't a fan of that either. But, the most wonderful things of all had to be the following:
Turkey. Not just one turkey, but two turkies. One volunteer bought a couple and fed them for a couple weeks (we all chipped in to buy 'em), and the day before T-day the turkies were slaughtered and stuffed. We spent a good deal of time baking the turkies, praying for the electricity to still be working -- which it did! Also, we had 5 pumpkin pies. Five pumpkin pies! These were quite possibly the best pumpkin pies I've ever eaten. Now here I must say - everything was made from scratch. There's no such thing as a quick-mix or pre-made something-or-other here in Kyrgyzstan, so everything was handmade. This made everything mean quite a lot, and I think even despite not having much in the way of American food for quite a while, it was simply an exquisitely scrumptious and delicious meal, even by non-KY food standards! This Thanksgiving was the first time in-country that my stomach hurt, and hurt real bad, from something other than being sick. I don't think I've ever, ever been that full in my life. My friends sleeping at the apartment with me lamented this -- I was apparantly snoring, which doesn't happen all that often any more (I think...).
After coming back from Thanksgiving, thoroughly broke from my trip to Naryn et al, I started work once again. The epidemic has cleared! Well, I must say that it felt good getting back into the thick of things. In particular, I think things with my one counterpart who said she didn't want to work with me are turning out to be alright. We've determined that we should divide our classes so that one teacher will observe and assist while the other runs classes - it works out decently because we teach each form (i.e. 11th A, 11th B, 10th A, 10th B etc) two times each every week. So far so good - we're just back to the normal problem of students not doing work and not caring about class. Fun!
I started up my club this week. I think I chose a bad time to start - there was some sort of "ball" going on where the 11th formers were dancing and singing and... oh who knows. I scheduled things so that on my one true free day, Friday, I'll give two sessions of club in the morning to the 7th formers, and two sessions in the afternoon - one to the 10th formers, one to the 11th formers. So I show up at 9, the time I scheduled for my first group of 7th formers. The classroom I was told I could use (re: it's free!) wasn't free -- some 8th formers have class in there. That, and none of my students show up. So at 9:20 I go back home - no point in sticking around. At 9:50 there are some students calling throughout the house for my host eje - not that they couldn't call for me, so they just yell out her name for a full minute straight. How come you're not at school, they inquire. How about because you all probably came at 9:30 or 9:40 for my club that was supposed to start at 9. That's Kyrgyz, to the dot.
I scheduled things to have an hour interval between club sessions - give myself some time to breathe, particularly since all my classes throughout the week are nonstop. But no. Nobody wants to come in at 9. We want to come in at 11. No, that's when I'm giving my second morning session. Fine fine, 10 it is. Ugh. And this is supposed to be my free day, too. I go in, things start up around 10:20 for my first session, and everything goes fine. Second session as well, though the classroom situation is highly aggrivating (hey, uh, students, do you know of any free classrooms around here?). I show up for my first afternoon session at 1 -- two problems. First, the 11th formers are in the classroom I'm using for afternoon sessions doing some intense dance tryout thing for their ball. Second, no students show up. Splendid! At least I got the 7th formers in, albeit with a very crummy first session time-change. I'm going to work on making advertisements or something...
Despite the club, however, I've been feeling pretty good this week. I think having snacks and food from America help out so much -- being able to supplement my potato and oil diet makes me feel better physically, and having foods I just simply enjoy is doing wonders for me emotionally. My counterparts are turning out to be pretty good -- actually had a meaningful talk with one (not the one who didn't like me two weeks ago) about her family and all sorts of stuff. Was good, in the sense that we got to talk in such a manner - most of the topics weren't so good in and of themselves though. One thing I'm concerned about, however, is my work load -- toward the end of the week I've been feeling a bit nauseous and light-headed, particularly when in class. It's most difficult on days where I have classes straight through the day with no real breaks. I also feel tired quite often. I do feel good emotionally, though. I'll give things another week to see how they go -- I'm working about 7 hours more than I should, and it will be more when I add a full 6 more hours with club.
Tomorrow I'm heading into Talas to see my friend in Talas. He's an older volunteer, in his 50's, and he's teaching at the university. I feel bad because the typical romp of the volunteer majority doesn't suit him - he's not alone in that regard, though. He had a good point during Thanksgiving - if we were anything but volunteers, none of us would really associate with him. Still, he's a good person, has valuable experience, and I enjoy spending time with him. He's also pretty damn funny, and one of the few people (re: Americans) I think I've connected with here. He may be a New Yorker, but we're alike in many regards. Oh geez... is Kyrgyzstan breaking down my prejudice against New York?!?
--
Ow. My head hasn't felt this bad in a long time. I'm retracting my statement of working 7 hours more than I should and replacing it with 14 -- previously I was only regarding actual physical time spent in the classroom, not time spent in the school overall. That, plus schedule changes, and... Yeah, teaching 32 hours in a week is not something I should be doing, but it pretty much is. I feel like I'm being taken advantage of. For example, today both of my counterparts came to school, and at the 4th morning lesson they told me they were going shopping/preparing for some German language thing. Basically, I was ditched and left to teach nonstop classes for the rest of the day, which went on until 6:15 pm (they left me at 10:30 am). I'm feeling so exhausted, and days like this don't help - particularly since I don't even get a break to eat during the day. It leaves me with no time to pursue learning Kyrgyz further (I still don't have a tutor, thank you very much schedule...), look for secondary project opportunities, or even simply recouperate. I need to have a good talk. No classroom to call my own (which is turning into a big problem, particularly as my club is starting to kick off), teaching so many classes on my own, teaching so many hours I shouldn't be, teaching classes I shouldn't be (the young 'uns), teaching on days I shouldn't be (Saturdays)... It's a good thing they don't pay me -- for them, not for me.
The other day I was in a fairly amusing position. After going guesting for one of the Muslim holiday celibrations, I was approached by what I would describe as a fairly inebriated fellow. He kept beckoning, wanting me to go with him to a "garage" to "drink tea." Realizing the comedy of such a statement, as well as the circumstances, I just said no, I'm going home. He didn't understand, apparently, and proceeded to lock his arm into mine (ala father-daughter wedding style) in an attempt to take me with him. I sort of know the guy, and know nothing bad would really happen, so I just took a step then stopped with him. Afterward some of the local kids came up to us -- they provided translation services. I gave them Kyrgyz, and they gave this guy... Kyrgyz. The guy "Harashaw'ed" (ok'ed) it, then went on his merry way.
Recently I went through most of The Office, from season 1-4. Great show. I just have to say, in episode 4 of season 4, at about 14:20 or so minutes into it, there's a decent idea of what I go through here here. However, I must say, that particular "item" is quite a bit higher quality than what I'm used to.
--
16/12/08
Last week was rough. Very rough. I haven't felt this exhausted since pulling my college all-nighters (for work, not play), my 4 a.m. trip to New York for my PC interview, after running Save Darfur Week, etc. The deal is, I teach thirty-two hours in a week when I should only be teaching eighteen. It certainly doesn't help when both my counterparts come up to me on our busiest day and tell me they're going out shopping then to some party/presentation (it's all the same here pretty much) well before even half the lessons of the day are over -- 7 classes to teach on my own, just what I needed. During that time I had to deal with the crazy kung-fu 2nd graders again (spent well over half the class time trying to pick kids up off from one another -- they were smacking the bejesus out of each other...) and my 7th graders weren't much better. Some kids in my 7th "v" form decided to start throwing pens at me -- they picked the wrong day, as I proceeded to kick them out of class then call the zavuch (vice-principal) on them. Stuff like this just makes me not want to get up in the morning.
Whoever designed spoons is evil. This is for two reasons: 1) Kyrgyz people utilize the spoon as their primary eating utensil, which makes it ridiculous sometimes to eat (ala long pasta -- and sometimes I feel like a damn artist when we eat with forks, esp. with knives, as they all blunder through it) and 2) It makes peanut butter go sooooo fast. I swore I would only eat, maybe, a few spoonfuls, but "just one more..." later and the entire jar is gone. Granted, it was after my terrible terrible day, but man. The peanut butter, ambrosia mix, peanut butter crackers, pineapple bars... all gone. My stock is down to a couple Nature Valley bars, some grape jelly, and half a bag of dried pineapple. Deliciousness cannot be contained in Kyrgyzstan. What's also amazing is this: I've seen them before, I know about them, but damn if I don't feel like neanderthal man discovering fire for the first time every time I open one of the drink packets and pour it into my distilled water. It's such a relief after chai (tea) 24/7, with the only other real relief being coffee or vodka. I'll sometimes get juice but it's typically expensive, and while it tastes good most of the time it's not real juice. Most people here simply use it as chaser.
Thank you one and all who sent me food. It's truly something that lifts my spirits, keeps me healthy of mind and body, and just simply tastes good!
Last week my not-so-nice counterpart decided to tell me that she had signed me up, or something involving a whole lot of not me, for the rayon olympiad competitions. Now, it's not that I don't want to do it (I do), it's just that I'd like to, you know, be involved in maybe a discussion or two with the people involved instead of being dictated to that I'll be doing something (and most likely 2nd, 3rd, 4th hand at that). It aggrivates me because I'm just told "Yup, you're going to be 'insert title here' and will go in on Saturday and you get to help our students," which is basically telling me I'm doing something about which I have no idea. I was told yesterday that I get to come in today at 10 and help our students with English. Forget the fact that I have no idea with what, it just looks like I can help with English ('cause, you know, that's not an extremely broad topic or anything). Arg! I can't stand having no say in what the heck I'm doing, and being told I'll do something yet there are absolutely no parameters within which to work. I think this counterpart is doing this a lot with me -- she told me not to show up at teachers' meetings because 'I wouldn't understand and would get bored,' takes things I should hand in to the director, freaks out at very innocuous and nonchalant comments (like, 'Can my friend come see the olympiad competition?' as her eyes pop out of her head and she goes on about me being the only volunteer in the rayon...), and just, I dunno, very skittery and suspect.
--
I just got back from school, where I was supposed to meet with the students about their olympiad experience. I was told to meet them at 10:00. I get to the teacher's lounge at 9:55. At 10:35, still no sign of the students, and I'm wondering what kind of crock my counterpart put me up to because all the students are in class. So I leave, go to the store, and buy some cell phone units. Now I'm back home, on a day I would have gone to the nearby town (bigger than a village I would say) to get some work done (they have a fax machine, and a bazaar) but didn't because I was told about this ridiculous olympiad thing. Fun!
I'm starting to disect my schedule in order to make it more manageable. I think I'm simply going to cut all my Saturday classes -- finally give myself the day off for good. I might also cut my Wednesday classes out - that will give me free mornings, with club in the afternoon. If I can find a language tutor I might be able to work it in during Tuesday/Wednesday. My schedule would look like this: Monday morning and afternoon classes, Tuesday free, Wednesday afternoon club, Thursday morning and afternoon classes, Friday morning and afternoon club. Seeing it like that, it makes me think I'm cutting quite a bit out. But the schedule here is really strange -- every class is packed in with as little breathing room as possible, so it would be rather full days. Hmm. I'll look things over again.
Of Wolves and Swans
Two weeks of no school, due to an ambiguous epidemic. A plan to travel to Naryn, one of the most out-there places in Kyrgyzstan, is approved by my program manager. Some extra som found, left from my training. A trip is formed!
I first called my good buddy in Naryn - I'd like to come down and see him, help him teach his classes for a week, catch up on things, and in general do something other than sit around for a couple weeks. He tells his host family about it, but he makes a mistake - he tells them that my school is closed due to an epidemic where people are getting sick. They refuse to allow me to come out to see him and stay for a few days... they fear I'll bring sickness with me, they don't know me, and in general just want to avoid anything to do with me. So I call out to my other training friend who lives about 40 minutes away - she says it'll work, to come on down. And so, I have a plan to go to Naryn!
Naryn is considered to be the "most Kyrgyz" part of Kyrgyzstan because it has the most primary Kyrgyz-speakers living in it, as well as the most ethnically-Kyrgyz population in country. It's also the most mountainous region of Kyrgyzstan. The people living there are, for the most part, relatively poor. Fruits and vegetables are unheard of in Naryn - it's supposedly the "meat" oblast of Kyrgyzstan, having many herds. However, since meat is expensive, most people just eat bread and little else. It has many expanses of nothingness - barren fields before one hits the mountains - proving to be very difficult yet very beautiful land. It's an oblast PC claims to send "the toughest" volunteers because of such situations.
I started my trip on Sunday, November 23rd, quite early in the morning. The previous day I had two perogatives in Talas City: use the internet, and get a haircut. The former didn't work because there was no electricity in the city, and I just barely managed to get a haircut before the shop was bombarded by customers. Somewhat discontent with the happenings, particularly not being able to inform people back home that I would be out for Thanksgiving, I set out for Bishkek at 8 a.m. in an attempt to catch the 1 p.m. bus to Ak Tala. The ride was bad from Talas - I got a bad price from the driver (bargaining didn't work...), his door kept on popping open throughout the ride - which made it quite cold on the mountain passes - and he decided to take a "shortcut" detour around Bishkek once we got to the entrance of the city. This resulted in us going about 20 minutes out of our way, getting stopped by the police, and getting to the voksal (bus/taxi/transport station) later than anticipated. I had missed the bus.
When we got to the voksal, I walked about 10 feet before being bombarded by someone wanting to know where I'm going - undoubtedly one of the typical roughians looking to get a good deal for a driver. I told him where I was going, and he laughed. "No taxis go there," he said. "You'll have to wait for the 7 p.m. bus that goes to Baetov." Fortunately, I persisted and kept on saying no, there's a way. A lady named Sonun came up to the conversation and inquired about the situation - she knows the area, knows of the volunteers working out there, knows where the taxis are. So I follow her to the typical taxi spots, and watch as she goes to work, arguing with the drivers. Lo and behold, there's one taxi with a cardboard sign in the window - Naryn City, Ak-Tala. It's practically a miracle... no taxis go to that part of Naryn. But I managed to find it, with the help of this extraordinary woman, and about half an hour later - when we get three other members to ride with us - we embark toward the most remote part of Kyrgyzstan that Peace Corps serves in.
The ride was fairly uneventful, albeit very long. I first met and introduced myself to the second passenger (myself being the first) - Marat. He's three years older than me, doing something with the military, generally a decent-mannered fellow. The driver, Adilet, is also very cordial and accomodating. These two are fairly interested in this particular American going to Ak Tala. It's not a tourist spot, it's difficult to get to, and it's their home. I tell them I'm going to see and help my friends out there, a bit about myself and my work, etc. Overall, two very nice people from this encounter. The other two passengers were insignificant to the trip for me - one eje who works at the university in Naryn City, and a teacher at the village I'm going to whose "prominence" is only outshined by his girth. Along the way we stopped at a cafe - having little money to spare, I settle for a coffee, despite Marat insisting I eat. Generously, he pays the 15 or so som that I owe toward the bill, and I give him a "Chong Rakmat - big thanks" for that.
The road to Naryn is very different from the road to Talas. There are mountains, but the road goes along the bases of them moreso than climbing into them (which is what the road to Talas does). It's also not a very good road, but it manages somehow -- a consistent theme with Kyrgyzstan. The way was beautiful! When we got to Naryn City, we dropped off the eje at her house and got a flat tire for that. After replacing the tire, we headed out toward Ak Tala, but first the taxi stopped at a store to pick up some "refreshments" and bread. The driver and I don't drink the beer, opting for some Fanta instead.
About 5 minutes outside the city, we stop on the side of the road to enjoy our little "Chai Eech" (drink tea - the standard call for food) and replenish ourselves a bit. I take some bread and Fanta, as do the other members of the taxi. While we're taking this moment to re-energize, something big walks up to the taxi. It goes right up to the front of the car, into the headlight spectrum, and the driver calls out, with much venom, "Karushkur!" It's a black wolf, undoubtedly in search of food. Kyrgyz people hate them because wolves hunt sheep etc. whereas I love wolves, taking them as my favorite animal due to their beauty, mystique, and overall nature. It was amazing, seeing for the first time a real wild wolf in-person. It almost makes up for me missing out on safari prospects in not going to PC Africa.
We head on out - it being late and all - and make our way down the road. About 40 minutes outside the city we see my friend Mike's village - it's pointed out to me, and I see about one light in this tiny village of about 800 people. A little ways past this village, we seemingly randomnly stop, turn around, and face the opposite destination direction. The headlights are shone out onto a lake on the left side of the road. On the lake, there are two swans, swimming gracefully and elegantly. How this company knew they were out there at this time, I couldn't comprehend. But it was majestic - I hadn't seen swans in a long time, and they were seemingly dancing out on the water. After a moment of amazement, we turned around in the right direction and headed out to my friend's village.
We arrive fairly late at this village. The ride from Talas to Bishkek is about 4-5 hours; the ride from Bishkek to this particular town is about 8-9 hours. It's roughly 9 or 10 at night when I get to my friend's home - getting a decent send-off from Marat and Adilet (not before getting the driver's number, of course - a taxi driver who can go to this town is valuable indeed). My friend, Micah (though she goes by Maia quite often because Micah means underwear in Kyrgyz), comes out to greet me. Her family is quite befuddled - they were told two hours previously that I would be coming, and they didn't know I'm male. So their reception was fairly unbemused and non-standard to the typical Kyrgyz. However, they also weren't overly mad or pushy. I give them an offering of bananas - something they cannot get in Naryn - and thank them for having me. They seem wholely underwhelmed and suspicious, but things didn't go bad (at least while I was there, I hope things aren't bad for my friend now because of my visit). Still, it's not "proper" for a female to have a non-family male guest over, though we tend to take liberty with that being American and all.
It was great seeing Micah again. She, Mike and I all lived together in the same training village, and grew to be friends during that time. Now we're separated by a 12-14 hour ride through mountains and a couple oblasts. Micah and I immediately got into happenings and goings-on, despite my tiredness from the long ride. The differences become apparently stark from the get-go -- meals consist mostly of bread and tea, the mannerisms of the family, the seemingly lethargic burden born upon the back of my friend apparent in her gait. However, there's an optimism and excitement pervading the entire thing - there's a reason this particular volunteer was sent to this, one of the most difficult sites. It's good to catch up, and good to see one another - she had only had two volunteers over at her place since arriving at site, and they're both from the oblast.
I spent a good deal of my time in Naryn helping teach classes with Micah. She is the 3rd or 4th volunteer serving in her village, so she has, as I would say, an amazing set up at her school. First, she has her own classroom, which is something I would kill for. Second, she has all sorts of goodies up around the room - grammar posters, alphabet charts, a stockpile of books, two big and real (re: not something akin to a piece of wood) chalkboards, quality desks... The instant I walked into that room I was jealous.
When I went Micah was in the middle of a transition - she was teaching most of her classes on her own because her primary counterpart was a retired woman who was supposed to teach 4 hours in a week but only came in for maybe 2. So we had some good ol' fashioned volunteer/American lessons to give, particularly since we're generally on the same page. However, her program manager came during my visit, and the solo game for her changed. Man, I wish I had this particular program manager (she doesn't work with Talas) because she completely kicked ass and got Micah's requests fulfilled - it was quite possibly one of the most awesome things I've seen in Kyrgyzstan. So Micah is now team-teaching with a really nice English teacher. The remainder of my time there was attempting to portray how team-teaching should go - hope it worked, since my experiences weren't so hot up to that point.
The rest my time at Micah's village was spent just hanging around with her. We played a lot of cards, spent some time being goofy with her host brother and cousin (on Tuesday the 'rents booked it out of the village for Bishkek, which was... odd...), and overall having an enjoyable time. One day we went out to the outlying hills to get a view of the area: gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. We also decided to make some food -- no-bake cookies (excellent), butter cookies with chopped up chocolate bars in them, steamed carrots, macaroni n' cheese, garlic baked chicken. Felt good to get some more cooking in, particularly since it all tasted great.
On Thursday we went to Mike's village. It took us about 1 1/2 hours to find a ride to the village -- the 1 o'clock marshrutka/bus that was supposed to come apparently didn't, and taxis wanted pretty ridiculous prices. But we finally caught a blue 'shrutka - a very chaotic ride - and made it to Mike's village.
My first impression of Mike's village: this is what I envisioned when I thought of Peace Corps. It's a village of 800 or so people, very small with nothing but farmers/herders living in it. Mike literally greets every person on the road he meets - he knows many of them by name. All the roads are dirt, the houses are sparse, and there's really nothing to the village. If one goes to the outlying hills, they can capture the entire village in one glance - it's that small.
Mike is my good friend. We were buddies back in our training village, often hanging out, going out for walks, shooting the breeze, etc. He seemed somewhat thrilled to see us. His situation appears to be a lot rougher than what the rest of us are encountering - he pretty much just gets bread, which doesn't fly for him (particularly breakfast - we were once late to a PC meeting because he just had to find some bananas for breakfast). His host mother tends to clean things like bowls and spoons by licking them. There's a newborn and a 1 year old in his house, in addition to an ancient grandmother. Sometimes they'll eat right outside the door to his room - it's difficult for him to get out sometimes. There have been disputes with the family where he's been yelled at, fairly violently. And, remember, these people feared I would get them all sick and refused to allow me to stay there. Also, there have been a few women who were bride-kidnapped since Mike arrived at his site, and he's had to attend one or two of the parties for said occassion. Yeah, my buddy is out on the frontier. He deserves the oranges I got for him.
It really was great getting to see Mike and Micah again. I wish I had more time to spend down there - perhaps in the summer I can go visit. I'd like to spend some more time hanging out with Mike as well - we only got to spend one night together, though it was good (got to experience the wonderful Trader Joe's flattened banana - so good...). The trip down was well worth it, particularly since there seems to be some tension and inter-oblast rivalrly, particularly between Talas and Naryn.
Leaving Naryn, things were seemingly fairly good - both rides, to Bishkek and Talas were 30% cheaper - but they were also fairly bad. On the way to Bishkek, the driver was seemingly trying to pull the 'drive on the shoulder, which is a lot bumpier and slower' trick for a good portion of the ride. We pulled the usual 'stop a bunch of times, for whatever reason' that seems to happen 100% of the time in a mostly-Kyrgyz ride. When we got to Bishkek, we experienced an honest-to-goodness traffic jam, something I haven't experienced since leaving CT. My poor Naryn-bred driver had no idea what to do under the circumstances - it took us a good hour to get through the city to the voksal (bus/taxi/marshrutka station). Once I got out of the taxi, I was bombarded by workers wanting to know where I was going - in less than 5 minutes I had cheap transportation set up to go to Talas.
Now, this marshrutka ride started promisingly, despite the fact that I was leaving very late at 4 p.m. It was cheap ('bout 150 som cheaper than a taxi, 200 som cheaper than it took to get to Bishkek from Talas in the first place), had lots of women (re: non-drunks) in it, and was fairly comfortable when we left. Halfway through Bishkek, however, we decided to pick up some guy's girlfriend, and the row of 3 I was sitting in was smushed into seating 4. The girlfriend, for whatever reason, decided to sit by me. About 30 minutes away from the mountain pass, as I'm starting to nod off from exhaustion, the 'shrutka suddenly realizes that it's uyat (shameful) for this young lady in her 20s and myself to be sitting next to one another, so one Kyrgyz-shuffle later I'm sitting at the window seat (thankfully) with an old eje next to me. About 10 minutes after the switch, this eje takes the liberty of deciding to use me as a pillow for the entirety of the ride. Attempts to shift away resulted in her manuevering into a more comfortable position and securing more of my person as her personal bed. Utterly... ugh... So we clear the first mountain pass, and stop at one of the regular intervals between B-kek and Talas. At first I thought it would just be a bathroom break, but 5 minutes after the young-uns (excluding me) left the 'shrutka the really old ejes decide to go out for a chai eech (tea) break. I'm still stuck in the 'shrutka with the eje sleeping on me - good thing I didn't have to go.
An hour later, as we finally depart from this stop, I'm starting to get irritated. The eje will not budge in her persistence of utilizing the American human pillow. We clear the second mountain pass fine, and are making decent time. But, old eje finally wakes up - her home is coming up. So we make a detour for a good few miles off the main road to deliver said eje to her doorstep - I'm thankful she's off of me, but miffed we've gone out of our way. We get back on the main road, and perhaps half an hour later, one of the most perplexing things I've seen occurred. We veer off to the left side of the road, and the driver pulls up to a set of 4 or 5 other 'shrutkas parked there. We stop, the driver gets out - we drove right into some sort of marshrutka party. People from all the 'shrutkas get out and form a ring (reminded me of the Simpson ring when Homer got all the Simpsons together to prove that they're not all losers) - they're all buddy buddy having a good time. The really old ejes from my 'shrutka are pulled out into the fray. The rest of us are left in the machine, wondering when the heck we're going to leave. I'm getting downright mad at this point - it's about 9 p.m. and still an hour away from Talas. Some different driver hops in the 'shrutka and takes off - finally, we're getting places, I thought. About 20 minutes later, a woman sitting next to me complains that her stop was missed - we turn around. At this point my mind feels like flopping out of my head - I think to myself, "What the hell. We're going in the completely wrong direction now! Arg, this is one of the worst marshrutka rides I've been on..." and proceed to text several people to such an effect. We drop the lady off about 10 minutes down the road, blissfully turn around again, and make it straight to Talas. Thankfully nothing else happened, and I was dropped off at the bazaar without consequence.
Upon arriving in Talas, my first thought was food: I hadn't eaten anything since before leaving Naryn in the morning. I go to every store in Talas that's open - nobody has bread. Arg!! At least the yogurt is good, albeit expensive. So I make my purchase, step in one of the water ditches on my way to a volunteer's apartment, and finally make it to sanctuary. Oh my, oh my. The ride was terrible, but the experience in Naryn was great. Next time, though, I think I'll stop in Chuy for a day or so.
I first called my good buddy in Naryn - I'd like to come down and see him, help him teach his classes for a week, catch up on things, and in general do something other than sit around for a couple weeks. He tells his host family about it, but he makes a mistake - he tells them that my school is closed due to an epidemic where people are getting sick. They refuse to allow me to come out to see him and stay for a few days... they fear I'll bring sickness with me, they don't know me, and in general just want to avoid anything to do with me. So I call out to my other training friend who lives about 40 minutes away - she says it'll work, to come on down. And so, I have a plan to go to Naryn!
Naryn is considered to be the "most Kyrgyz" part of Kyrgyzstan because it has the most primary Kyrgyz-speakers living in it, as well as the most ethnically-Kyrgyz population in country. It's also the most mountainous region of Kyrgyzstan. The people living there are, for the most part, relatively poor. Fruits and vegetables are unheard of in Naryn - it's supposedly the "meat" oblast of Kyrgyzstan, having many herds. However, since meat is expensive, most people just eat bread and little else. It has many expanses of nothingness - barren fields before one hits the mountains - proving to be very difficult yet very beautiful land. It's an oblast PC claims to send "the toughest" volunteers because of such situations.
I started my trip on Sunday, November 23rd, quite early in the morning. The previous day I had two perogatives in Talas City: use the internet, and get a haircut. The former didn't work because there was no electricity in the city, and I just barely managed to get a haircut before the shop was bombarded by customers. Somewhat discontent with the happenings, particularly not being able to inform people back home that I would be out for Thanksgiving, I set out for Bishkek at 8 a.m. in an attempt to catch the 1 p.m. bus to Ak Tala. The ride was bad from Talas - I got a bad price from the driver (bargaining didn't work...), his door kept on popping open throughout the ride - which made it quite cold on the mountain passes - and he decided to take a "shortcut" detour around Bishkek once we got to the entrance of the city. This resulted in us going about 20 minutes out of our way, getting stopped by the police, and getting to the voksal (bus/taxi/transport station) later than anticipated. I had missed the bus.
When we got to the voksal, I walked about 10 feet before being bombarded by someone wanting to know where I'm going - undoubtedly one of the typical roughians looking to get a good deal for a driver. I told him where I was going, and he laughed. "No taxis go there," he said. "You'll have to wait for the 7 p.m. bus that goes to Baetov." Fortunately, I persisted and kept on saying no, there's a way. A lady named Sonun came up to the conversation and inquired about the situation - she knows the area, knows of the volunteers working out there, knows where the taxis are. So I follow her to the typical taxi spots, and watch as she goes to work, arguing with the drivers. Lo and behold, there's one taxi with a cardboard sign in the window - Naryn City, Ak-Tala. It's practically a miracle... no taxis go to that part of Naryn. But I managed to find it, with the help of this extraordinary woman, and about half an hour later - when we get three other members to ride with us - we embark toward the most remote part of Kyrgyzstan that Peace Corps serves in.
The ride was fairly uneventful, albeit very long. I first met and introduced myself to the second passenger (myself being the first) - Marat. He's three years older than me, doing something with the military, generally a decent-mannered fellow. The driver, Adilet, is also very cordial and accomodating. These two are fairly interested in this particular American going to Ak Tala. It's not a tourist spot, it's difficult to get to, and it's their home. I tell them I'm going to see and help my friends out there, a bit about myself and my work, etc. Overall, two very nice people from this encounter. The other two passengers were insignificant to the trip for me - one eje who works at the university in Naryn City, and a teacher at the village I'm going to whose "prominence" is only outshined by his girth. Along the way we stopped at a cafe - having little money to spare, I settle for a coffee, despite Marat insisting I eat. Generously, he pays the 15 or so som that I owe toward the bill, and I give him a "Chong Rakmat - big thanks" for that.
The road to Naryn is very different from the road to Talas. There are mountains, but the road goes along the bases of them moreso than climbing into them (which is what the road to Talas does). It's also not a very good road, but it manages somehow -- a consistent theme with Kyrgyzstan. The way was beautiful! When we got to Naryn City, we dropped off the eje at her house and got a flat tire for that. After replacing the tire, we headed out toward Ak Tala, but first the taxi stopped at a store to pick up some "refreshments" and bread. The driver and I don't drink the beer, opting for some Fanta instead.
About 5 minutes outside the city, we stop on the side of the road to enjoy our little "Chai Eech" (drink tea - the standard call for food) and replenish ourselves a bit. I take some bread and Fanta, as do the other members of the taxi. While we're taking this moment to re-energize, something big walks up to the taxi. It goes right up to the front of the car, into the headlight spectrum, and the driver calls out, with much venom, "Karushkur!" It's a black wolf, undoubtedly in search of food. Kyrgyz people hate them because wolves hunt sheep etc. whereas I love wolves, taking them as my favorite animal due to their beauty, mystique, and overall nature. It was amazing, seeing for the first time a real wild wolf in-person. It almost makes up for me missing out on safari prospects in not going to PC Africa.
We head on out - it being late and all - and make our way down the road. About 40 minutes outside the city we see my friend Mike's village - it's pointed out to me, and I see about one light in this tiny village of about 800 people. A little ways past this village, we seemingly randomnly stop, turn around, and face the opposite destination direction. The headlights are shone out onto a lake on the left side of the road. On the lake, there are two swans, swimming gracefully and elegantly. How this company knew they were out there at this time, I couldn't comprehend. But it was majestic - I hadn't seen swans in a long time, and they were seemingly dancing out on the water. After a moment of amazement, we turned around in the right direction and headed out to my friend's village.
We arrive fairly late at this village. The ride from Talas to Bishkek is about 4-5 hours; the ride from Bishkek to this particular town is about 8-9 hours. It's roughly 9 or 10 at night when I get to my friend's home - getting a decent send-off from Marat and Adilet (not before getting the driver's number, of course - a taxi driver who can go to this town is valuable indeed). My friend, Micah (though she goes by Maia quite often because Micah means underwear in Kyrgyz), comes out to greet me. Her family is quite befuddled - they were told two hours previously that I would be coming, and they didn't know I'm male. So their reception was fairly unbemused and non-standard to the typical Kyrgyz. However, they also weren't overly mad or pushy. I give them an offering of bananas - something they cannot get in Naryn - and thank them for having me. They seem wholely underwhelmed and suspicious, but things didn't go bad (at least while I was there, I hope things aren't bad for my friend now because of my visit). Still, it's not "proper" for a female to have a non-family male guest over, though we tend to take liberty with that being American and all.
It was great seeing Micah again. She, Mike and I all lived together in the same training village, and grew to be friends during that time. Now we're separated by a 12-14 hour ride through mountains and a couple oblasts. Micah and I immediately got into happenings and goings-on, despite my tiredness from the long ride. The differences become apparently stark from the get-go -- meals consist mostly of bread and tea, the mannerisms of the family, the seemingly lethargic burden born upon the back of my friend apparent in her gait. However, there's an optimism and excitement pervading the entire thing - there's a reason this particular volunteer was sent to this, one of the most difficult sites. It's good to catch up, and good to see one another - she had only had two volunteers over at her place since arriving at site, and they're both from the oblast.
I spent a good deal of my time in Naryn helping teach classes with Micah. She is the 3rd or 4th volunteer serving in her village, so she has, as I would say, an amazing set up at her school. First, she has her own classroom, which is something I would kill for. Second, she has all sorts of goodies up around the room - grammar posters, alphabet charts, a stockpile of books, two big and real (re: not something akin to a piece of wood) chalkboards, quality desks... The instant I walked into that room I was jealous.
When I went Micah was in the middle of a transition - she was teaching most of her classes on her own because her primary counterpart was a retired woman who was supposed to teach 4 hours in a week but only came in for maybe 2. So we had some good ol' fashioned volunteer/American lessons to give, particularly since we're generally on the same page. However, her program manager came during my visit, and the solo game for her changed. Man, I wish I had this particular program manager (she doesn't work with Talas) because she completely kicked ass and got Micah's requests fulfilled - it was quite possibly one of the most awesome things I've seen in Kyrgyzstan. So Micah is now team-teaching with a really nice English teacher. The remainder of my time there was attempting to portray how team-teaching should go - hope it worked, since my experiences weren't so hot up to that point.
The rest my time at Micah's village was spent just hanging around with her. We played a lot of cards, spent some time being goofy with her host brother and cousin (on Tuesday the 'rents booked it out of the village for Bishkek, which was... odd...), and overall having an enjoyable time. One day we went out to the outlying hills to get a view of the area: gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. We also decided to make some food -- no-bake cookies (excellent), butter cookies with chopped up chocolate bars in them, steamed carrots, macaroni n' cheese, garlic baked chicken. Felt good to get some more cooking in, particularly since it all tasted great.
On Thursday we went to Mike's village. It took us about 1 1/2 hours to find a ride to the village -- the 1 o'clock marshrutka/bus that was supposed to come apparently didn't, and taxis wanted pretty ridiculous prices. But we finally caught a blue 'shrutka - a very chaotic ride - and made it to Mike's village.
My first impression of Mike's village: this is what I envisioned when I thought of Peace Corps. It's a village of 800 or so people, very small with nothing but farmers/herders living in it. Mike literally greets every person on the road he meets - he knows many of them by name. All the roads are dirt, the houses are sparse, and there's really nothing to the village. If one goes to the outlying hills, they can capture the entire village in one glance - it's that small.
Mike is my good friend. We were buddies back in our training village, often hanging out, going out for walks, shooting the breeze, etc. He seemed somewhat thrilled to see us. His situation appears to be a lot rougher than what the rest of us are encountering - he pretty much just gets bread, which doesn't fly for him (particularly breakfast - we were once late to a PC meeting because he just had to find some bananas for breakfast). His host mother tends to clean things like bowls and spoons by licking them. There's a newborn and a 1 year old in his house, in addition to an ancient grandmother. Sometimes they'll eat right outside the door to his room - it's difficult for him to get out sometimes. There have been disputes with the family where he's been yelled at, fairly violently. And, remember, these people feared I would get them all sick and refused to allow me to stay there. Also, there have been a few women who were bride-kidnapped since Mike arrived at his site, and he's had to attend one or two of the parties for said occassion. Yeah, my buddy is out on the frontier. He deserves the oranges I got for him.
It really was great getting to see Mike and Micah again. I wish I had more time to spend down there - perhaps in the summer I can go visit. I'd like to spend some more time hanging out with Mike as well - we only got to spend one night together, though it was good (got to experience the wonderful Trader Joe's flattened banana - so good...). The trip down was well worth it, particularly since there seems to be some tension and inter-oblast rivalrly, particularly between Talas and Naryn.
Leaving Naryn, things were seemingly fairly good - both rides, to Bishkek and Talas were 30% cheaper - but they were also fairly bad. On the way to Bishkek, the driver was seemingly trying to pull the 'drive on the shoulder, which is a lot bumpier and slower' trick for a good portion of the ride. We pulled the usual 'stop a bunch of times, for whatever reason' that seems to happen 100% of the time in a mostly-Kyrgyz ride. When we got to Bishkek, we experienced an honest-to-goodness traffic jam, something I haven't experienced since leaving CT. My poor Naryn-bred driver had no idea what to do under the circumstances - it took us a good hour to get through the city to the voksal (bus/taxi/marshrutka station). Once I got out of the taxi, I was bombarded by workers wanting to know where I was going - in less than 5 minutes I had cheap transportation set up to go to Talas.
Now, this marshrutka ride started promisingly, despite the fact that I was leaving very late at 4 p.m. It was cheap ('bout 150 som cheaper than a taxi, 200 som cheaper than it took to get to Bishkek from Talas in the first place), had lots of women (re: non-drunks) in it, and was fairly comfortable when we left. Halfway through Bishkek, however, we decided to pick up some guy's girlfriend, and the row of 3 I was sitting in was smushed into seating 4. The girlfriend, for whatever reason, decided to sit by me. About 30 minutes away from the mountain pass, as I'm starting to nod off from exhaustion, the 'shrutka suddenly realizes that it's uyat (shameful) for this young lady in her 20s and myself to be sitting next to one another, so one Kyrgyz-shuffle later I'm sitting at the window seat (thankfully) with an old eje next to me. About 10 minutes after the switch, this eje takes the liberty of deciding to use me as a pillow for the entirety of the ride. Attempts to shift away resulted in her manuevering into a more comfortable position and securing more of my person as her personal bed. Utterly... ugh... So we clear the first mountain pass, and stop at one of the regular intervals between B-kek and Talas. At first I thought it would just be a bathroom break, but 5 minutes after the young-uns (excluding me) left the 'shrutka the really old ejes decide to go out for a chai eech (tea) break. I'm still stuck in the 'shrutka with the eje sleeping on me - good thing I didn't have to go.
An hour later, as we finally depart from this stop, I'm starting to get irritated. The eje will not budge in her persistence of utilizing the American human pillow. We clear the second mountain pass fine, and are making decent time. But, old eje finally wakes up - her home is coming up. So we make a detour for a good few miles off the main road to deliver said eje to her doorstep - I'm thankful she's off of me, but miffed we've gone out of our way. We get back on the main road, and perhaps half an hour later, one of the most perplexing things I've seen occurred. We veer off to the left side of the road, and the driver pulls up to a set of 4 or 5 other 'shrutkas parked there. We stop, the driver gets out - we drove right into some sort of marshrutka party. People from all the 'shrutkas get out and form a ring (reminded me of the Simpson ring when Homer got all the Simpsons together to prove that they're not all losers) - they're all buddy buddy having a good time. The really old ejes from my 'shrutka are pulled out into the fray. The rest of us are left in the machine, wondering when the heck we're going to leave. I'm getting downright mad at this point - it's about 9 p.m. and still an hour away from Talas. Some different driver hops in the 'shrutka and takes off - finally, we're getting places, I thought. About 20 minutes later, a woman sitting next to me complains that her stop was missed - we turn around. At this point my mind feels like flopping out of my head - I think to myself, "What the hell. We're going in the completely wrong direction now! Arg, this is one of the worst marshrutka rides I've been on..." and proceed to text several people to such an effect. We drop the lady off about 10 minutes down the road, blissfully turn around again, and make it straight to Talas. Thankfully nothing else happened, and I was dropped off at the bazaar without consequence.
Upon arriving in Talas, my first thought was food: I hadn't eaten anything since before leaving Naryn in the morning. I go to every store in Talas that's open - nobody has bread. Arg!! At least the yogurt is good, albeit expensive. So I make my purchase, step in one of the water ditches on my way to a volunteer's apartment, and finally make it to sanctuary. Oh my, oh my. The ride was terrible, but the experience in Naryn was great. Next time, though, I think I'll stop in Chuy for a day or so.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Dance of the Moon
After what I would consider my best (as in, most enjoyable) week in Kyrgyzstan, I'm feeling refreshed and prepared, if a bit exhausted from my excursion to Bishkek. I think a marked change is definate - nothing could be more apparant than my nose doing much, much better during meals today (hot soup and tea notwithstanding!). Also, I think an apology is in order for my previous postings - all volunteers go through hard times, and I've been going through some difficult ones lately. I've been using my writings to vent and express myself, and I feel I have done so in an inappropriate manner. Though it's difficult to remain optimistic at times, the role of being a purvayor of culture and bridge of meaningful relationships is mine to fulfill, and I've done so poorly through my recent actions. I'll try not to let pessimism grasp ahold of me again, and be more conscious of what I'm saying - even if it's just to a relatively small and private crowd. And, just for the record, always take my harsh/joking/cynical comments with a grain of salt -- I take out my frustration quite often through writing, and I'm less inclined to write the good things that happen (cause, hey, it's a good time! no need to complain, right?). So slap me silly sometimes, spasibo!
My time in Bishkek was nothing short of great. I first went to my training host family and spent my Friday night with them - it was amazing seeing them again (my little brother seems a foot taller) and giving them an update. Most volunteers don't see their original host families after they move to permanant site - I had a great family and wanted to see them again soon, I missed them. My host mom knitted me a pair of socks (a bit small but they fit, and are super warm) and gave me a scarf - I didn't want to leave them again. But it was a great time; talking to them made me feel like so much less of an idiot than what I do at permanant site because we're more comfortable with one another and I can just speak more freely and easily with them. Their mini-feast of monty (steamed dumplings, usually with potato, onion, meat etc. inside) was decent - I was more intrigued by the medoly of fruits (persimmons, oranges, apples, and I brought some bananas for them) and the cucumbers, and salads they had. Overall it was very good visiting them again - I wish I had more time, but time was restrained and Bishkek called.
I left my host family at around 9 a.m. to spend the day in Bishkek. First things first we all went to PC headquarters - I got in some free internet time there, getting Obama's victory speech. A bunch of volunteers came in and we chatted it up for a while before embarking on a trip to the Osh bazaar (odd that the Osh - an entire oblast in Kyrgyzstan - bazaar is in Bishkek, but whatever) and subsequently to lunch. I spent most of this trip with a volunteer I sort of like - unfortunately, though, she had to leave early. We went to a place called Metro for lunch. I almost cried when I entered the place - it's set up like your standard sports bar/American restaurant, with menues in English, amazing bathrooms, and, best of all, real American food. One of the K-15's (group that's been here a year already) was already there eating a bacon cheeseburger - if I wasn't with the other volunteer, I would have sat mesmerized by the glorious site of this cheeseburger and fries for at least as long as the K-15 was eating it. I ordered a burger of my own (vegetarianism has gone by the wayside on my excursion out here...), she ordered a pizza. I almost did the same thing for the pizza as I did the previous bacon cheeseburger. Let me tell you, it was pure heaven - real ground beef, real cheese, lettuce (oh my I haven't even seen lettuce since Philadelphia, it's all cabbage here), french fries, real American ketchup (they have ketchup here but it's not not not our ketchup), and cole slaw. I never ate cole slaw in America - and honestly, the first thing I thought when I saw it was salad because toss anything together in such a fashion here in KY and it's called salad - but man oh man, I ate that too. It was the most blissful moment I've had in country, eating this delicious piece of artwork and home, all the while talking to said volunteer.
After lunch we went to the Beta Stores. Beta Stores is basically a kitchen appliance/grocery store, with a cafe on the second floor and a third floor as well (not sure what it is). I went there and bought everything I could remember I needed/wanted - I had left my wish list in another pocket. On the list was - pie dish (I got something that should work, it's a bit deep though), olive oil, parmesan cheese (wow expensive, but it's shoprite brand!), vegetable oil; I also picked up a muffin/cupcake tray (small but workable, 6 slots in it) and some peanut butter. Oh my the peanut butter. I haven't tasted peanut butter in over four months now - it was an experience that transcended the hamburger. Peanut butter is quite possibly the greatest invention of mankind. It's so delicious, and creamy, and oh... if only they had this food outside of just this one store in all of Kyrgyzstan... Anyway, I also bought a pastry for the other volunteer - I wouldn't have time to go back to the apartment we had rented out for the night to get my birthday gift from Talas to her, and she had so kindly given me one of the Asian pears she bought at the Osh Bazaar. We said our goodbyes here as she had a 2 hour trip ahead of her to get back to her village. A bit sad, but I greatly enjoyed the time.
The rest of the day was miserable weather-wise, so we pretty much just headed back to the apartments at this point. I didn't have the time or wherewithall to commence my intended gift-buying trip, so I had to beg a couple Chuy volunteers to help with the buying and sending of them to America. Lots of volunteers trickled in over the course of this late afternoon/early evening - it was a bit difficult establishing dinner plans. But eventually, at around 7 p.m. or so, I got enough people, mostly sober, to go out and grab a bite. We went to an Italian place called Cyclone (it's Kyrgyzstan, don't ask) where the menues were, again, in English. Most of the group ordered pasta of some variant; I, being fed pasta almost every single day (which is a norm in Talas), optioned for pizza - it's no Pepe's, but oh my, it was almost, almost as good as the hamburger experience. I went for a straight up cheese & sauce pizza; my good buddy from Naryn got a chicken, onion & mushroom pizza. We traded a slice for a slice - his was good, but I'm glad I got the pizza I did because it tasted much more like true pizza (primarily because mine had sauce). We ended up just crashing at the chill (i.e. sober) apartment and watching movies for the rest of the night. In the morning we got up and went to a place called Fatboy's (pretty much all these restaurants are ex-pat, at least in patronage) for breakfast; I got french toast, which was nothing like actual french toast (pretty much dry toast with a small bit of egg cooked into it - no cinnamon, no syrup, no big fluffy piece of toast, no nothing to go on it), an order of hash browns (excellent!), and a hot chocolate (since I drink coffee about 100x more than I ever did in the States, even if it's NesCafe instant coffee 99% of the time). We then had to leave for Talas - I had to say goodbye to my Naryn buddy since we probably won't see each other again until January for a week of PC training.
Leaving Bishkek was probably the worst marshrutka ride I've been on, which is saying something, but I'm not too upset about it. The driver and everything was fine, it's just that we have to go through two mountain passes (or go through Kazakhstan, which is it's own set of trouble) to get through to Talas or Bishkek. The rain from Saturday afternoon turned to snow Saturday night, and we all awoke to a snowy Bishkek on Sunday. If there was snow on the ground in Chuy Valley, imagine what it's like in the mountains. Our trip was about 100-200 som (i.e. a lot) more expensive than usual, and we later understood why. Usually people travel with their snow-chains for the tires of their vehicles; not so today. We hit massive traffic on both mountain passes - trucks are the primary cause of such problems, primarily in that they take up massive amounts of space and once they get stuck or sideways it takes ages to get around them or move them. One-way traffic in these congested areas + the lack of driving rules = big mess. What should have been a 4-5 hour drive ended up being 8-9. The topics of conversation in the 'shrutka were interesting as well - lets just say I'm a bit glad I don't spend all my time with some of these volunteers. So we're stuck in the mountains, where our cell phones don't work at all, and it's getting late. However, and I must say this, the view was absolutely stunning. Lots of snow = low clouds, and that combined with well-covered mountainsides, plus the mostly-clear sun (particularly the setting sun) gave the sensation of ascending and descending from the heavens. A site not soon to be forgotten, and truly uncapturable through photography (though I did try).
By the time we get off the second mountain, it's already turning dark, and it's a good 1 1/2 to 2 hours to Talas City (and from there another 40 minutes to my village), so the prospect of returning to site died with the setting sun at this point. At about 8 or 9 p.m. we get to Talas, buy some pasta (yay! haven't had that to eat in a while...), and crash at one of the city-dweller's apartments. It's an alright night, but I wish I had gone back to my site and my bed. We watched a terrible movie (something with Adam Sandler acting as this Israeli hair cutter/counter terrorist - another aweful movie from an aweful actor), got bummed out of food (2 batches of food made, and half of each batch went to one volunteer who raced in to get it before everyone else - there were 6 people eating... guess who I'm glad I don't spend all my time with), and just slept. I've been sleeping on floors a lot, and this night I had my first dream while doing so - it's a bit scary, hope I'm not getting too used to it. In the morning we get up and it's decided by mr. wonderful volunteer that we'll go to a cafe then to internet and then back to site - wonderful, I think, as I have class starting in an hour but would prefer not to get jipped on a taxi ride thus must go with volunteers so we can get a better all-together price. So I'm dragged along, get some kasha (rice boiled with milk and served with a small bit of butter - actually one of my favorite foods here), and at 11 or so we make it to the taxis and get back to site. I'm in time to give my afternoon classes, at least - not like I'm tired or anything. But it was actually a bit of a relief teaching - I was in American mode for so long. My second counterpart is in Bishkek so I taught all my classes by myself, which is fine by me because I get to actually do stuff (what with knowing what my own lesson plan is) rather than just sitting, watching as kids get reprimanded for not doing work they don't even have instructions for in the first place.
After all this, though, I'm beat. A week of break ends with me fairly exhausted, but in high spirits. My fuel tank is empty, but my optimism tank has been filled. Hurray for tomorrow, a Tuesday, a day of no English classes. Rest, and lesson planning. Huzzah, I haven't felt this good in a long time. I'll definately hold onto my Bishkek experience for a while - be it time with volunteer(s), or a burger I'll place along with cinnamon buns in my dreams. Things are looking up!
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It's time to exert some authority and bring about some cultural awareness. Everyone seems to know now that Obama won the presidential election. Aside from being young, the first thing people here notice is that Obama is African American. However, they don't have that word here. Instead, they have the N word. So I have students blurting out the word to me in class, and my counterpart saying it to me as well. With my students (since I taught class on my own) I simply said not to say the word - my counterpart, on the other hand, is a bit trickier. I told her it's a terrible word and never to say it, she's trying to tell me that outside America it isn't a bad word (true to a degree, but still). It's going to be a dicey situation, but I'm going to remain firm in the stance that people here should not say the word. It's aggrivating because they're claiming the word as part of their language, when it's really a derivative from Latin. Time for a lesson in history/culture and use Kyrgyz examples of words that shouldn't be spoken so casually. I could try Russian words, but that's practically another language in and of itself (something ridiculous like 1200 swear words in Russian).
Snow snow snow. It's been snowing here, and just yesterday it started sticking. Since I'm not a volunteer from Texas or California, I'm really not enamored with it at all. Snow just kind of exists to be a big old pain. Yes it's beautiful, and fun can be had in it. But it's also cold. And wet. And a pain to clean. And hard to walk in. And blinding in the sun. And... I think you get the point. I'm not excited in the least at the prospect of dealing with snow, particularly since who knows when winter will be over. Wonderful, snow in November. Warm clothes, where are you?!?
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Today I got to sweep the driveway! Ok, so I helped, and it was a bit pathetic having my 8 year old brother butting in, preventing me from sweeping all of my area (particularly since he just attacks things, not really sweeps them - half the time he just picks stuff up with his hands), but still. I got to do something! Afterwards I busted out my dry-erase board (much thanks) and showed my brother and sister the English alphabet, and we drew some pictures. Good times.
"Hey Chris (re: Kreese), we're neighbors, so my daughter is in the club right?" No, your daughter is in the club because she took the test. A nation of favors and handouts aggrivates me sometimes.
I just ate my second cinnamon caramel pecan chewy breakfast oat bar (and no, I didn't have to look at the package - this is what happens when you start dreaming of cinnamon buns and hamburgers). Oh my, I don't think anything has tasted this good in the existence of mankind. Compared with my plate of potatoes this afternoon, it's an explosion of flavor and goodness. Kyrgyz food, thy name is blandness. If only one breakfast bar could fill me up... Oh well, at least the food here is, for the most part, filling. And I must say, the bread here kicks America's bread's butt. Veggies and fruits are real good here too, some better some worse, some equal. If only I got more of them!! Curse you winter...
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I've dubbed Thursday as my quitting day. Here's why: I have every single period of classes filled. What this means: from 8 in the morning until 6 in the evening, no breaks, no intermission, classes all the way through. Good thing Six Flags prepared my bladder for such cases. Today classes lasted so long that we couldn't see the blackboards because the room was so dark (svet jok - no electricity - strikes again!). Add in that I feel so helplessly useless when my counterpart runs the show (then, when she's at a loss for something to do, turns to me to pull a miracle from... well... you know where), leaving me to do a whole lot of nothing with a lesson plan whose contents I have no indication of what's within, and the day is just pure excruciation.
Thank goodness for peanut butter!
--
Ebb and flow, waxing and waning. That seems to be the nature of things here. For every good day, there's a bad. Yesterday was a pretty shocking day, and not in a good way.
As I've said before about my counterparts, it's very difficult to work together. This is for several reasons: primarily they're young females and it's both in their mentality and in the culture that they cannot meet with me outside of the classroom to work on lessons, due to "bad thoughts," female duties in the home, and perception of actions. Also among the issues is the fact that they have books, which they exclusively teach from (and, consequently, feel that I should be teaching from as well -- in my opinion these books stink, reeking of poor quality, uninteresting material, and generally work that the students don't get or care about), which I don't own and which the students don't own. With this one counterpart in particular, there are some attitude issues as well, primarily in regard to how things must be controlled, and that about every time I communicate with her she pleads the 5th, or rather, claims to not understand what I say (and when she does, she doesn't, say, tell it to the class like I request). It's highly frustrating, and I can't work very well with these circumstances. For most classes I walk in, sit down, and (just like the students) learn for the first time what's going on from the presentation itself -- I usually help with pronounciation and reading, but for actual substance, not a whole lot. I essentially walk blindly into the classroom every day, which is proving to be the big struggle of team-teaching.
The major issue yesterday was, after following through with several classes, that my one counterpart told me she didn't want to work with me any more. This hurts. A lot. Since then I've done everything from consult friends to talking to my father, and I've done a lot of searching within myself. For the moment I've determined that my purpose here was not to come and teach on my own, or even to shirk this counterpart. This is a problem, a big problem, and it must be seen through. There are many overriding characteristics to the issue at hand: lack of and poor communication on both ends, cultural differences, attitude differences, gender differences, work ethic differences, priority differences... in general, a whole sort of differences loaded onto this issue of team-teaching. It's made me question why I'm here and what I'm doing, particularly since someone I'm supposed to be working with doesn't want to do so. I can't take over her job, she needs the money. I also don't think I can just start up my own classes; the schedule seems fairly in-line and I've already determined what I have about purpose, to a degree. I asked her if she wished that I left - she said no, which is also a question of sincerity or the typical Kyrgyz indirectness. This is no easy moment, and the coming weeks are very critical. My program manager will be visiting me on Wednesday or Thursday, so this issue will be brought up with my superiors. But it's amazing how quickly I feel obsolete, worthless, and in general just like I'm wasting time. I hope it doesn't remain and this problem can be resolved.
--
Ebb and flow once again. So today is Tuesday the 18th (still the 17th for you all). Yesterday was pretty good. The day started off with me getting two packages and a letter from Grampy. Very nice! Now I have warm clothes and high spirits. I go to school and give my own classes all day - my troublesome counterpart sat in for part of my first lesson, but didn't do much else. All's well with that though, she was much less belligerant. My new schedule only gives me two morning classes on Monday, but I still have the same afternoon schedule. Five classes, going until 6:10 p.m. My other counterpart isn't in from Bishkek yet, I believe, so I taught all the classes on my own. Things went well, despite me not expecting to teach on my own -- utilized my crayon-drawings of colors (not colours this time, ha!) and fruits. I even taught my second graders without any hassle! No trouble at all, all on my own! It was amazing.
There was, however, an interesting turn of events yesterday. When I came to school the front door was locked, which is very odd. I later found out from my counterpart that there's an "epidemic" at the school - note the use of the word epidemic, which is quite severe - apparantly someone or some people had gotten sick. It was described to me as people turning yellow and "these things, not the heart, not the stomach..." "The lungs?" I say, "I don't know..." "The things you breathe with?" "Yes, there are problems with those." So I'm told teachers get to go in to school on Wednesday to clean it (I imagine it's something to keep people on the clock for pay) but everyone is saying "Kaineecool!" which is break/vacation in Kyrgyz. But I'm utterly confused today because the students all went to school, and I don't have Tuesday classes regardless. Oi vei.
Last Saturday I had my first foray into the baking world. Chocolate chip cookies by scratch (cause the local dukon - shop - just sold it's last batch of cookie dough...), utilizing my newly received and prized possession - vanilla! All the other ingredients (aside from brown sugar - they don't have it here, so I substituded it with a mixture of honey and white sugar) were Kyrgyz bought. Everything was decent-good, though the butter that was bought for me was of the lower grade -- the cookies could have been much better with the other butter. But, all's said and done, I managed to make the cookie dough on my own and get an account of how long the baking mechanism (best way to describe it -- it's this rusty box with coils in it, and requires a shift from the top to bottom halfway through baking) requires, since they don't utilize temperature measurements here. They turned out pretty good! I took pictures for you doubters. Onward to bigger and better things - pies, cupcakes, breads, American food (whatever that is... perhaps pizza, fried chicken), anything I can try. It working makes me happy. Maybe now I can become apprentice to one of my sisters and learn the ways of Kyrgyz cooking.
Anyone who knows me knows I tend to be cynical and sarcastic quite often. I feel I've been very much the former in regard to my new host family. It's difficult, particularly since I had such a good experience with my training family and I'm the first volunteer here (both for the village and family). But I think things are starting to get better. In talking with other volunteers, especially, I've come to realize that my situation here is actually quite good -- I'm given plenty of privacy (albeit with not-so-private window curtains), the food - despite complaining all the time - isn't bad and I usually get something decent for dinner (as opposed to 3 meals of besh barmak per day, re: other volunteers), I have a banya, a water pump in the front yard (many, many volunteers have to walk to, say, a river or pump down the street), and in general just a normal, non-crazy family. It's taking transition, that's all. Things were wierd at first and will continue to be wierd up until close of service for me, but it's getting more comfortable every day. It's as strange for me as it is for the family -- hopefully things like sharing chocolate chip cookies with them will help make it less so. We've started having good, meaningful conversations, so all's going slowly but surely. And, just for the record, always take my harsh/joking/cynical comments with a grain of salt -- I take out my frustration quite often through writing, and I'm less inclined to write the good things that happen (cause, hey, it's a good time! no need to complain, right?). So slap me silly sometimes, spasibo!
--
It turns out the epidemic will actually cancel school for a long time, it wasn't just a mishap or miscommunication. Two weeks of no school. Two weeks of no work for me. Interesting... Perhaps I'll take this time to travel, look around for project ideas, get a grip on things, etc. Two weeks though, that's a long time -- in particular, if my school is closed in January and February (which it may well might, heating issues - we have coal, but the heating system is broken at the moment) this will be quite a long time of doing a whole lot of no teaching. Time to apply resourcefulness and creativity, hmm...
Peace,Chris
My time in Bishkek was nothing short of great. I first went to my training host family and spent my Friday night with them - it was amazing seeing them again (my little brother seems a foot taller) and giving them an update. Most volunteers don't see their original host families after they move to permanant site - I had a great family and wanted to see them again soon, I missed them. My host mom knitted me a pair of socks (a bit small but they fit, and are super warm) and gave me a scarf - I didn't want to leave them again. But it was a great time; talking to them made me feel like so much less of an idiot than what I do at permanant site because we're more comfortable with one another and I can just speak more freely and easily with them. Their mini-feast of monty (steamed dumplings, usually with potato, onion, meat etc. inside) was decent - I was more intrigued by the medoly of fruits (persimmons, oranges, apples, and I brought some bananas for them) and the cucumbers, and salads they had. Overall it was very good visiting them again - I wish I had more time, but time was restrained and Bishkek called.
I left my host family at around 9 a.m. to spend the day in Bishkek. First things first we all went to PC headquarters - I got in some free internet time there, getting Obama's victory speech. A bunch of volunteers came in and we chatted it up for a while before embarking on a trip to the Osh bazaar (odd that the Osh - an entire oblast in Kyrgyzstan - bazaar is in Bishkek, but whatever) and subsequently to lunch. I spent most of this trip with a volunteer I sort of like - unfortunately, though, she had to leave early. We went to a place called Metro for lunch. I almost cried when I entered the place - it's set up like your standard sports bar/American restaurant, with menues in English, amazing bathrooms, and, best of all, real American food. One of the K-15's (group that's been here a year already) was already there eating a bacon cheeseburger - if I wasn't with the other volunteer, I would have sat mesmerized by the glorious site of this cheeseburger and fries for at least as long as the K-15 was eating it. I ordered a burger of my own (vegetarianism has gone by the wayside on my excursion out here...), she ordered a pizza. I almost did the same thing for the pizza as I did the previous bacon cheeseburger. Let me tell you, it was pure heaven - real ground beef, real cheese, lettuce (oh my I haven't even seen lettuce since Philadelphia, it's all cabbage here), french fries, real American ketchup (they have ketchup here but it's not not not our ketchup), and cole slaw. I never ate cole slaw in America - and honestly, the first thing I thought when I saw it was salad because toss anything together in such a fashion here in KY and it's called salad - but man oh man, I ate that too. It was the most blissful moment I've had in country, eating this delicious piece of artwork and home, all the while talking to said volunteer.
After lunch we went to the Beta Stores. Beta Stores is basically a kitchen appliance/grocery store, with a cafe on the second floor and a third floor as well (not sure what it is). I went there and bought everything I could remember I needed/wanted - I had left my wish list in another pocket. On the list was - pie dish (I got something that should work, it's a bit deep though), olive oil, parmesan cheese (wow expensive, but it's shoprite brand!), vegetable oil; I also picked up a muffin/cupcake tray (small but workable, 6 slots in it) and some peanut butter. Oh my the peanut butter. I haven't tasted peanut butter in over four months now - it was an experience that transcended the hamburger. Peanut butter is quite possibly the greatest invention of mankind. It's so delicious, and creamy, and oh... if only they had this food outside of just this one store in all of Kyrgyzstan... Anyway, I also bought a pastry for the other volunteer - I wouldn't have time to go back to the apartment we had rented out for the night to get my birthday gift from Talas to her, and she had so kindly given me one of the Asian pears she bought at the Osh Bazaar. We said our goodbyes here as she had a 2 hour trip ahead of her to get back to her village. A bit sad, but I greatly enjoyed the time.
The rest of the day was miserable weather-wise, so we pretty much just headed back to the apartments at this point. I didn't have the time or wherewithall to commence my intended gift-buying trip, so I had to beg a couple Chuy volunteers to help with the buying and sending of them to America. Lots of volunteers trickled in over the course of this late afternoon/early evening - it was a bit difficult establishing dinner plans. But eventually, at around 7 p.m. or so, I got enough people, mostly sober, to go out and grab a bite. We went to an Italian place called Cyclone (it's Kyrgyzstan, don't ask) where the menues were, again, in English. Most of the group ordered pasta of some variant; I, being fed pasta almost every single day (which is a norm in Talas), optioned for pizza - it's no Pepe's, but oh my, it was almost, almost as good as the hamburger experience. I went for a straight up cheese & sauce pizza; my good buddy from Naryn got a chicken, onion & mushroom pizza. We traded a slice for a slice - his was good, but I'm glad I got the pizza I did because it tasted much more like true pizza (primarily because mine had sauce). We ended up just crashing at the chill (i.e. sober) apartment and watching movies for the rest of the night. In the morning we got up and went to a place called Fatboy's (pretty much all these restaurants are ex-pat, at least in patronage) for breakfast; I got french toast, which was nothing like actual french toast (pretty much dry toast with a small bit of egg cooked into it - no cinnamon, no syrup, no big fluffy piece of toast, no nothing to go on it), an order of hash browns (excellent!), and a hot chocolate (since I drink coffee about 100x more than I ever did in the States, even if it's NesCafe instant coffee 99% of the time). We then had to leave for Talas - I had to say goodbye to my Naryn buddy since we probably won't see each other again until January for a week of PC training.
Leaving Bishkek was probably the worst marshrutka ride I've been on, which is saying something, but I'm not too upset about it. The driver and everything was fine, it's just that we have to go through two mountain passes (or go through Kazakhstan, which is it's own set of trouble) to get through to Talas or Bishkek. The rain from Saturday afternoon turned to snow Saturday night, and we all awoke to a snowy Bishkek on Sunday. If there was snow on the ground in Chuy Valley, imagine what it's like in the mountains. Our trip was about 100-200 som (i.e. a lot) more expensive than usual, and we later understood why. Usually people travel with their snow-chains for the tires of their vehicles; not so today. We hit massive traffic on both mountain passes - trucks are the primary cause of such problems, primarily in that they take up massive amounts of space and once they get stuck or sideways it takes ages to get around them or move them. One-way traffic in these congested areas + the lack of driving rules = big mess. What should have been a 4-5 hour drive ended up being 8-9. The topics of conversation in the 'shrutka were interesting as well - lets just say I'm a bit glad I don't spend all my time with some of these volunteers. So we're stuck in the mountains, where our cell phones don't work at all, and it's getting late. However, and I must say this, the view was absolutely stunning. Lots of snow = low clouds, and that combined with well-covered mountainsides, plus the mostly-clear sun (particularly the setting sun) gave the sensation of ascending and descending from the heavens. A site not soon to be forgotten, and truly uncapturable through photography (though I did try).
By the time we get off the second mountain, it's already turning dark, and it's a good 1 1/2 to 2 hours to Talas City (and from there another 40 minutes to my village), so the prospect of returning to site died with the setting sun at this point. At about 8 or 9 p.m. we get to Talas, buy some pasta (yay! haven't had that to eat in a while...), and crash at one of the city-dweller's apartments. It's an alright night, but I wish I had gone back to my site and my bed. We watched a terrible movie (something with Adam Sandler acting as this Israeli hair cutter/counter terrorist - another aweful movie from an aweful actor), got bummed out of food (2 batches of food made, and half of each batch went to one volunteer who raced in to get it before everyone else - there were 6 people eating... guess who I'm glad I don't spend all my time with), and just slept. I've been sleeping on floors a lot, and this night I had my first dream while doing so - it's a bit scary, hope I'm not getting too used to it. In the morning we get up and it's decided by mr. wonderful volunteer that we'll go to a cafe then to internet and then back to site - wonderful, I think, as I have class starting in an hour but would prefer not to get jipped on a taxi ride thus must go with volunteers so we can get a better all-together price. So I'm dragged along, get some kasha (rice boiled with milk and served with a small bit of butter - actually one of my favorite foods here), and at 11 or so we make it to the taxis and get back to site. I'm in time to give my afternoon classes, at least - not like I'm tired or anything. But it was actually a bit of a relief teaching - I was in American mode for so long. My second counterpart is in Bishkek so I taught all my classes by myself, which is fine by me because I get to actually do stuff (what with knowing what my own lesson plan is) rather than just sitting, watching as kids get reprimanded for not doing work they don't even have instructions for in the first place.
After all this, though, I'm beat. A week of break ends with me fairly exhausted, but in high spirits. My fuel tank is empty, but my optimism tank has been filled. Hurray for tomorrow, a Tuesday, a day of no English classes. Rest, and lesson planning. Huzzah, I haven't felt this good in a long time. I'll definately hold onto my Bishkek experience for a while - be it time with volunteer(s), or a burger I'll place along with cinnamon buns in my dreams. Things are looking up!
--
It's time to exert some authority and bring about some cultural awareness. Everyone seems to know now that Obama won the presidential election. Aside from being young, the first thing people here notice is that Obama is African American. However, they don't have that word here. Instead, they have the N word. So I have students blurting out the word to me in class, and my counterpart saying it to me as well. With my students (since I taught class on my own) I simply said not to say the word - my counterpart, on the other hand, is a bit trickier. I told her it's a terrible word and never to say it, she's trying to tell me that outside America it isn't a bad word (true to a degree, but still). It's going to be a dicey situation, but I'm going to remain firm in the stance that people here should not say the word. It's aggrivating because they're claiming the word as part of their language, when it's really a derivative from Latin. Time for a lesson in history/culture and use Kyrgyz examples of words that shouldn't be spoken so casually. I could try Russian words, but that's practically another language in and of itself (something ridiculous like 1200 swear words in Russian).
Snow snow snow. It's been snowing here, and just yesterday it started sticking. Since I'm not a volunteer from Texas or California, I'm really not enamored with it at all. Snow just kind of exists to be a big old pain. Yes it's beautiful, and fun can be had in it. But it's also cold. And wet. And a pain to clean. And hard to walk in. And blinding in the sun. And... I think you get the point. I'm not excited in the least at the prospect of dealing with snow, particularly since who knows when winter will be over. Wonderful, snow in November. Warm clothes, where are you?!?
--
Today I got to sweep the driveway! Ok, so I helped, and it was a bit pathetic having my 8 year old brother butting in, preventing me from sweeping all of my area (particularly since he just attacks things, not really sweeps them - half the time he just picks stuff up with his hands), but still. I got to do something! Afterwards I busted out my dry-erase board (much thanks) and showed my brother and sister the English alphabet, and we drew some pictures. Good times.
"Hey Chris (re: Kreese), we're neighbors, so my daughter is in the club right?" No, your daughter is in the club because she took the test. A nation of favors and handouts aggrivates me sometimes.
I just ate my second cinnamon caramel pecan chewy breakfast oat bar (and no, I didn't have to look at the package - this is what happens when you start dreaming of cinnamon buns and hamburgers). Oh my, I don't think anything has tasted this good in the existence of mankind. Compared with my plate of potatoes this afternoon, it's an explosion of flavor and goodness. Kyrgyz food, thy name is blandness. If only one breakfast bar could fill me up... Oh well, at least the food here is, for the most part, filling. And I must say, the bread here kicks America's bread's butt. Veggies and fruits are real good here too, some better some worse, some equal. If only I got more of them!! Curse you winter...
--
I've dubbed Thursday as my quitting day. Here's why: I have every single period of classes filled. What this means: from 8 in the morning until 6 in the evening, no breaks, no intermission, classes all the way through. Good thing Six Flags prepared my bladder for such cases. Today classes lasted so long that we couldn't see the blackboards because the room was so dark (svet jok - no electricity - strikes again!). Add in that I feel so helplessly useless when my counterpart runs the show (then, when she's at a loss for something to do, turns to me to pull a miracle from... well... you know where), leaving me to do a whole lot of nothing with a lesson plan whose contents I have no indication of what's within, and the day is just pure excruciation.
Thank goodness for peanut butter!
--
Ebb and flow, waxing and waning. That seems to be the nature of things here. For every good day, there's a bad. Yesterday was a pretty shocking day, and not in a good way.
As I've said before about my counterparts, it's very difficult to work together. This is for several reasons: primarily they're young females and it's both in their mentality and in the culture that they cannot meet with me outside of the classroom to work on lessons, due to "bad thoughts," female duties in the home, and perception of actions. Also among the issues is the fact that they have books, which they exclusively teach from (and, consequently, feel that I should be teaching from as well -- in my opinion these books stink, reeking of poor quality, uninteresting material, and generally work that the students don't get or care about), which I don't own and which the students don't own. With this one counterpart in particular, there are some attitude issues as well, primarily in regard to how things must be controlled, and that about every time I communicate with her she pleads the 5th, or rather, claims to not understand what I say (and when she does, she doesn't, say, tell it to the class like I request). It's highly frustrating, and I can't work very well with these circumstances. For most classes I walk in, sit down, and (just like the students) learn for the first time what's going on from the presentation itself -- I usually help with pronounciation and reading, but for actual substance, not a whole lot. I essentially walk blindly into the classroom every day, which is proving to be the big struggle of team-teaching.
The major issue yesterday was, after following through with several classes, that my one counterpart told me she didn't want to work with me any more. This hurts. A lot. Since then I've done everything from consult friends to talking to my father, and I've done a lot of searching within myself. For the moment I've determined that my purpose here was not to come and teach on my own, or even to shirk this counterpart. This is a problem, a big problem, and it must be seen through. There are many overriding characteristics to the issue at hand: lack of and poor communication on both ends, cultural differences, attitude differences, gender differences, work ethic differences, priority differences... in general, a whole sort of differences loaded onto this issue of team-teaching. It's made me question why I'm here and what I'm doing, particularly since someone I'm supposed to be working with doesn't want to do so. I can't take over her job, she needs the money. I also don't think I can just start up my own classes; the schedule seems fairly in-line and I've already determined what I have about purpose, to a degree. I asked her if she wished that I left - she said no, which is also a question of sincerity or the typical Kyrgyz indirectness. This is no easy moment, and the coming weeks are very critical. My program manager will be visiting me on Wednesday or Thursday, so this issue will be brought up with my superiors. But it's amazing how quickly I feel obsolete, worthless, and in general just like I'm wasting time. I hope it doesn't remain and this problem can be resolved.
--
Ebb and flow once again. So today is Tuesday the 18th (still the 17th for you all). Yesterday was pretty good. The day started off with me getting two packages and a letter from Grampy. Very nice! Now I have warm clothes and high spirits. I go to school and give my own classes all day - my troublesome counterpart sat in for part of my first lesson, but didn't do much else. All's well with that though, she was much less belligerant. My new schedule only gives me two morning classes on Monday, but I still have the same afternoon schedule. Five classes, going until 6:10 p.m. My other counterpart isn't in from Bishkek yet, I believe, so I taught all the classes on my own. Things went well, despite me not expecting to teach on my own -- utilized my crayon-drawings of colors (not colours this time, ha!) and fruits. I even taught my second graders without any hassle! No trouble at all, all on my own! It was amazing.
There was, however, an interesting turn of events yesterday. When I came to school the front door was locked, which is very odd. I later found out from my counterpart that there's an "epidemic" at the school - note the use of the word epidemic, which is quite severe - apparantly someone or some people had gotten sick. It was described to me as people turning yellow and "these things, not the heart, not the stomach..." "The lungs?" I say, "I don't know..." "The things you breathe with?" "Yes, there are problems with those." So I'm told teachers get to go in to school on Wednesday to clean it (I imagine it's something to keep people on the clock for pay) but everyone is saying "Kaineecool!" which is break/vacation in Kyrgyz. But I'm utterly confused today because the students all went to school, and I don't have Tuesday classes regardless. Oi vei.
Last Saturday I had my first foray into the baking world. Chocolate chip cookies by scratch (cause the local dukon - shop - just sold it's last batch of cookie dough...), utilizing my newly received and prized possession - vanilla! All the other ingredients (aside from brown sugar - they don't have it here, so I substituded it with a mixture of honey and white sugar) were Kyrgyz bought. Everything was decent-good, though the butter that was bought for me was of the lower grade -- the cookies could have been much better with the other butter. But, all's said and done, I managed to make the cookie dough on my own and get an account of how long the baking mechanism (best way to describe it -- it's this rusty box with coils in it, and requires a shift from the top to bottom halfway through baking) requires, since they don't utilize temperature measurements here. They turned out pretty good! I took pictures for you doubters. Onward to bigger and better things - pies, cupcakes, breads, American food (whatever that is... perhaps pizza, fried chicken), anything I can try. It working makes me happy. Maybe now I can become apprentice to one of my sisters and learn the ways of Kyrgyz cooking.
Anyone who knows me knows I tend to be cynical and sarcastic quite often. I feel I've been very much the former in regard to my new host family. It's difficult, particularly since I had such a good experience with my training family and I'm the first volunteer here (both for the village and family). But I think things are starting to get better. In talking with other volunteers, especially, I've come to realize that my situation here is actually quite good -- I'm given plenty of privacy (albeit with not-so-private window curtains), the food - despite complaining all the time - isn't bad and I usually get something decent for dinner (as opposed to 3 meals of besh barmak per day, re: other volunteers), I have a banya, a water pump in the front yard (many, many volunteers have to walk to, say, a river or pump down the street), and in general just a normal, non-crazy family. It's taking transition, that's all. Things were wierd at first and will continue to be wierd up until close of service for me, but it's getting more comfortable every day. It's as strange for me as it is for the family -- hopefully things like sharing chocolate chip cookies with them will help make it less so. We've started having good, meaningful conversations, so all's going slowly but surely. And, just for the record, always take my harsh/joking/cynical comments with a grain of salt -- I take out my frustration quite often through writing, and I'm less inclined to write the good things that happen (cause, hey, it's a good time! no need to complain, right?). So slap me silly sometimes, spasibo!
--
It turns out the epidemic will actually cancel school for a long time, it wasn't just a mishap or miscommunication. Two weeks of no school. Two weeks of no work for me. Interesting... Perhaps I'll take this time to travel, look around for project ideas, get a grip on things, etc. Two weeks though, that's a long time -- in particular, if my school is closed in January and February (which it may well might, heating issues - we have coal, but the heating system is broken at the moment) this will be quite a long time of doing a whole lot of no teaching. Time to apply resourcefulness and creativity, hmm...
Peace,Chris
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Apples n Oranges
To compliment my recent update, I'd just like to say this week has been the apple to my previous month's orange (or orange to apple - I love both). First off, PC visited all the Talas volunteers to see how we're doing. The vice-director pulled out some candy corn and some oranges at the end - my jaw almost hits the floor, oranges are delicious and super expensive now! But yeah, that was great.
This week has been the best week I've had in Kyrgyzstan. Everything has gone right, everything has been positive, everything has been wonderful. My packages arrived. I'm going to Bishkek for the weekend. I was able to sleep and rest. We have a new president. And this president isn't the stinky national-Republican type that has been destroying our reputation and economy for the past few years. It's our historical, first African-American, hope-inducing, positively and peacefully minded new president: Barak Obama! Hurray!
Things are going great. I've needed this energy and excitement for a long time; it's just coincidence that everything is all happening at once. Cheers to all, huzzah!
This week has been the best week I've had in Kyrgyzstan. Everything has gone right, everything has been positive, everything has been wonderful. My packages arrived. I'm going to Bishkek for the weekend. I was able to sleep and rest. We have a new president. And this president isn't the stinky national-Republican type that has been destroying our reputation and economy for the past few years. It's our historical, first African-American, hope-inducing, positively and peacefully minded new president: Barak Obama! Hurray!
Things are going great. I've needed this energy and excitement for a long time; it's just coincidence that everything is all happening at once. Cheers to all, huzzah!
YAY!
I feel good! Hee hee! I haven't felt this good since I got my first glimpse of a Kyrgyzstan morning. It's amazing!
Yesterday was great. I got up early and went to the bank (hurray for settling-in allowance), with my eje barking a bit at me to get her her money. But whatever. I purchase an electric chinek (basically a water heater, good for boiling purposes) and a pair of coffee mugs - should have bought some more things, like teaspoons, bowls, etc. but that can wait. I go home, see nobody's there so I stash my allowance and storm off to the post office. It's not open! Wonder wonder... anyway, I head back to my home and stop at a couple stores along the way - some have cups, but no spoons or bowls. As I exit the last store, I see my little little brother with a bow & arrow that seems to be so popular among boys here. I ask him what he's doing, and stand by him a bit until he drops the 'toy' and comes home with me. We spend the afternoon picking apples off the tree and playing a bit. At one point he decides to snap off a couple branches from a tree and tries to get me to use it as a sword/javelin/staff (as he's so transfixed with violence and kung-fu) - I pull the brilliant idea from my days of scouting to get my pocket knife (so happy I brought it - very useful) and start whittling like I did with so many-a walking stick back in the day. This sort of blows my brothers mind, and he goes off to find his own 'knife,' a razor, to join me in the yard. After shredding the bark, I try cutting a few designs into the fresh wood - on my second design, the guy who delivered my first bit of mail rides up into the home on a newspaper bicycle.
I got mail! Some piece of language learning from PC, and my ballot (hey, the election's tomorrow, thanks!). He also has news - I have not one, but two packages for you, and they're waiting at my house! I would have gotten them to you earlier, but I was at a party this weekend - I've had them since Friday. So we trek down to his house, and I nab the two rather large boxes. He needs my passport and signature, but we're neighbors (this word looks very strange to me now, having been using the British version for classes...) - he'll do it next time.
Things first travelled to Bishkek, then Talas city, then my rayon center, then to my town (by taxi, or something). All the wrapping was intact, everything was there. Wonderful! In the middle of opening my package, I'm called to eat - twice, because I was so transfixed with the packages. My hand is shaking all throughout dinner, and I down 3 cups of coffee (why are we drinking coffee for dinner?!?); the packages await! I get to a package within the package - a playmobil lego-type box. I think "Uhh... why was this sent?" So I walk into the bedroom across from my own, thinking, "If this is a toy, I'll share it with my sibs." Oops, forgot my knife in the other room - I go get it, and open the box. Inside is a plethora of pens, pencils, post-it notes, all sorts of goodies. I have tons of notebooks - don't think I'll be wanting for paper anytime soon. Shared my skittles with the fam - they seemed to like them.
Some spices (cinnamon & vanilla, wonderful! I get to try my baking hand now), some food items, a down comforter (!! so good), razor & toothpaste (hurray, I can stop cleaning out my disposables for a while), and all sorts of good stuff. It felt like Christmas, and I felt like a kid all over again! Huzzah! Best day I've had in a long time.
Notes on food - don't be shy with sending me anything. Peanut butter. I love it, and here they don't have it. So if there's a spare box lying around, filling the entire thing with peanut butter would be... decadent. Other snacks are great as well. Big bags of candy, boxes of whatever will last, anything. Things that can last a while are much appreciated, i.e. a big bag of something. But most importantly - peanut butter, they don't have it here (and when/where they do it's small, very rare, and sells out lickety split).
My goal is to try and get an inventory of things so I can try to make American food, improvise and perhaps concoct something of my own, and just get a cooking deal going. I could also use some measuring instruments - I have a 1-cup cup that I primarily use for painting (i.e. it's my water cup) and that's about it. I'm going to try getting some stuff when I go to Bishkek, like a pie dish, perhaps a bread pan, things like that. If I'm going to have to eat besh barmak for breakfast, they're going to have to eat the good American stuff! Ha...
This week off is amazing. I get to rest, kids aren't calling out my name and opening the door to the class I'm in, my fam seems a bit more nice now that they have monthly rent and I've shown & shared some of my packages, I get to travel and visit my first host family as well as other volunteers, and I made one volunteer super happy just for showing up to Talas on his birthday (all the partiers seemed to come to near-worship of me for that... odd...). But this is definately the most positive I've been in a while. Packages can make it here! Woo!
--
Just took my weekly banya. Refreshing, and revealing. Since I part my hair, and it's usually dry (thus curlier at the ends), I don't have an accurate account of how long it is most of the time. Today I got to see just how long it really is -- halfway down my nose. Now, I believe long hair here is uyat - shameful - but I'm not too concerned about that. What I am concerned about is the hair cutting situation. What with the lack of decent communication skills and very, very scary 80s haircuts people sport here (mullets, freaky fades, hairspray), I'm afraid to chop this monster on top of my head. Every volunteer I've seen that has gotten a haircut has told me, "Yeah, they didn't really get what I was trying to say..." as they're sporting chach joke - no hair. I don't want that, especially since it's getting pretty cold out and I have enough problems getting sick here as is. So I'm presented with a dilema - no vision, or no hair? If only the hairstyles here weren't so... vintage 70s/80s.
--
So this morning I get a call from my dad - Obama's in the lead with about 200 electoral votes to McCain's 80. California, Washington, and Oregon (all projected to go to Obama) are still open, and those three alone would push Obama past 270. I remain in contact with a volunteer I know is staking out the results via internet. At about noon or so here, I get the results.
Obama is president! Or, will be in January, when our current slophead gets out. And I thought my week couldn't get any better! Oh wow, what a relief. I can keep my two copies of my ballot as relics from one of the most memorable, intensive, and important elections ever. Amazing! I can come back to the US after done here in Kyrgyzstan! And we can get the blindness out of our highest governmental office. Huzzah! I'm sure many of you are celebrating back in the States, I know my fellow volunteers and myself will be.
Hee hee!
Yesterday was great. I got up early and went to the bank (hurray for settling-in allowance), with my eje barking a bit at me to get her her money. But whatever. I purchase an electric chinek (basically a water heater, good for boiling purposes) and a pair of coffee mugs - should have bought some more things, like teaspoons, bowls, etc. but that can wait. I go home, see nobody's there so I stash my allowance and storm off to the post office. It's not open! Wonder wonder... anyway, I head back to my home and stop at a couple stores along the way - some have cups, but no spoons or bowls. As I exit the last store, I see my little little brother with a bow & arrow that seems to be so popular among boys here. I ask him what he's doing, and stand by him a bit until he drops the 'toy' and comes home with me. We spend the afternoon picking apples off the tree and playing a bit. At one point he decides to snap off a couple branches from a tree and tries to get me to use it as a sword/javelin/staff (as he's so transfixed with violence and kung-fu) - I pull the brilliant idea from my days of scouting to get my pocket knife (so happy I brought it - very useful) and start whittling like I did with so many-a walking stick back in the day. This sort of blows my brothers mind, and he goes off to find his own 'knife,' a razor, to join me in the yard. After shredding the bark, I try cutting a few designs into the fresh wood - on my second design, the guy who delivered my first bit of mail rides up into the home on a newspaper bicycle.
I got mail! Some piece of language learning from PC, and my ballot (hey, the election's tomorrow, thanks!). He also has news - I have not one, but two packages for you, and they're waiting at my house! I would have gotten them to you earlier, but I was at a party this weekend - I've had them since Friday. So we trek down to his house, and I nab the two rather large boxes. He needs my passport and signature, but we're neighbors (this word looks very strange to me now, having been using the British version for classes...) - he'll do it next time.
Things first travelled to Bishkek, then Talas city, then my rayon center, then to my town (by taxi, or something). All the wrapping was intact, everything was there. Wonderful! In the middle of opening my package, I'm called to eat - twice, because I was so transfixed with the packages. My hand is shaking all throughout dinner, and I down 3 cups of coffee (why are we drinking coffee for dinner?!?); the packages await! I get to a package within the package - a playmobil lego-type box. I think "Uhh... why was this sent?" So I walk into the bedroom across from my own, thinking, "If this is a toy, I'll share it with my sibs." Oops, forgot my knife in the other room - I go get it, and open the box. Inside is a plethora of pens, pencils, post-it notes, all sorts of goodies. I have tons of notebooks - don't think I'll be wanting for paper anytime soon. Shared my skittles with the fam - they seemed to like them.
Some spices (cinnamon & vanilla, wonderful! I get to try my baking hand now), some food items, a down comforter (!! so good), razor & toothpaste (hurray, I can stop cleaning out my disposables for a while), and all sorts of good stuff. It felt like Christmas, and I felt like a kid all over again! Huzzah! Best day I've had in a long time.
Notes on food - don't be shy with sending me anything. Peanut butter. I love it, and here they don't have it. So if there's a spare box lying around, filling the entire thing with peanut butter would be... decadent. Other snacks are great as well. Big bags of candy, boxes of whatever will last, anything. Things that can last a while are much appreciated, i.e. a big bag of something. But most importantly - peanut butter, they don't have it here (and when/where they do it's small, very rare, and sells out lickety split).
My goal is to try and get an inventory of things so I can try to make American food, improvise and perhaps concoct something of my own, and just get a cooking deal going. I could also use some measuring instruments - I have a 1-cup cup that I primarily use for painting (i.e. it's my water cup) and that's about it. I'm going to try getting some stuff when I go to Bishkek, like a pie dish, perhaps a bread pan, things like that. If I'm going to have to eat besh barmak for breakfast, they're going to have to eat the good American stuff! Ha...
This week off is amazing. I get to rest, kids aren't calling out my name and opening the door to the class I'm in, my fam seems a bit more nice now that they have monthly rent and I've shown & shared some of my packages, I get to travel and visit my first host family as well as other volunteers, and I made one volunteer super happy just for showing up to Talas on his birthday (all the partiers seemed to come to near-worship of me for that... odd...). But this is definately the most positive I've been in a while. Packages can make it here! Woo!
--
Just took my weekly banya. Refreshing, and revealing. Since I part my hair, and it's usually dry (thus curlier at the ends), I don't have an accurate account of how long it is most of the time. Today I got to see just how long it really is -- halfway down my nose. Now, I believe long hair here is uyat - shameful - but I'm not too concerned about that. What I am concerned about is the hair cutting situation. What with the lack of decent communication skills and very, very scary 80s haircuts people sport here (mullets, freaky fades, hairspray), I'm afraid to chop this monster on top of my head. Every volunteer I've seen that has gotten a haircut has told me, "Yeah, they didn't really get what I was trying to say..." as they're sporting chach joke - no hair. I don't want that, especially since it's getting pretty cold out and I have enough problems getting sick here as is. So I'm presented with a dilema - no vision, or no hair? If only the hairstyles here weren't so... vintage 70s/80s.
--
So this morning I get a call from my dad - Obama's in the lead with about 200 electoral votes to McCain's 80. California, Washington, and Oregon (all projected to go to Obama) are still open, and those three alone would push Obama past 270. I remain in contact with a volunteer I know is staking out the results via internet. At about noon or so here, I get the results.
Obama is president! Or, will be in January, when our current slophead gets out. And I thought my week couldn't get any better! Oh wow, what a relief. I can keep my two copies of my ballot as relics from one of the most memorable, intensive, and important elections ever. Amazing! I can come back to the US after done here in Kyrgyzstan! And we can get the blindness out of our highest governmental office. Huzzah! I'm sure many of you are celebrating back in the States, I know my fellow volunteers and myself will be.
Hee hee!
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Oh my free time
As I'm sitting here, attempting to read my tests and think about the events of the past few days, I'm contemplating a reoccurring thought that has been on my mind for years now. Though I may be young and attempting to do so in whatever capacities I can, it's a basis for my actions: I will not be around forever, and my time now, however long, grueling, fruitful, uneventful, life-changing (and/or just about every single other adjective you can think of) it may be, needs to be beneficial in some way, shape, or form. There are good, bad, and neutral things; it's necessary to improve upon them all, either by emphasis, change, information, awareness, and a whole host of other positive methods. This is not just for the here and now or the special occassion -- rather, it is a style of living, my style of living (or at least what I would like to be my style of living) and it's central emphasis is this: treating others with empathy and/or sympathy, acting with the Golden Rule in heart and mind, and working to make the world around you, no matter how grand or minute in scale an action it may be, a better place. If I can do one thing, one thing at all, to make this world better, then I believe mine will have been a life worth spent.
On that note, I realize how little and how much time I have here in Kyrgyzstan. It's a lot because it's two years in a foreign environment, doing work previously not done, learning a new language, customs, values, style of living etc. I'll be able to establish relationships and do many things that would be unthinkable if I did anything other than be a volunteer. On the other hand, if the past few years have taught me anything, years tend to fly by. The here-and-now may seem long, but in reality it's short and miniscule. Some things I will have to adapt to here, some things I will not. For instance, I fully intend to start up some sort of youth dialogue/awareness club (perhaps for the summer, but it can be integrated into my English Club) in order to talk about primarily Kyrgyzstan but also the rest of the world, pros & cons, perceptions, opinions, etc. It's a difficult task because this culture is fairly adamant about avoiding any such discussion directly - people have their ideas, but they're often conveyed via middleman, and even then it can take a long (i.e. perhaps six months) to reach the subject of conversation. But I don't have that kind of time, to ask a question and wait for weeks or months for a response. As I've mentioned before, people are adamant about me "taking a girl" - this is a concession I will not make, and I don't care about offending people about it. There are several important and alarming issues facing this country, and rather than sit back and simply be a teacher, it's my duty and call to be the volunteer that I decided to be and do something more than sit idly by and comply with every single societal norm. Some things, yes. Some things, absolutely not. Time will tell how it pans out, but my job here is to follow what my sentiments and beliefs in the previous paragraph are.
--
The other day it started snowing here. None of it stuck, fortunately, but that still doesn't bode well. I've got my ridiculously heavy (the thing weighs about 20 pounds) winter coat and matching Jigeet (typically just a guy, man, dude, w/e) hat to go with it. The only thing I need now is a decent pair of boots, and something good in the way of undergarments (which I hope will arrive soon). The bazaar is devoid of many familair foods, with bread, potatoes, apples, persimmons, and expensive oranges taking the primary role now. Inside is little relief from outside, though honestly it's not much different from Harvest Lane (you know, with the whole not having/turning on of heat). It certainly makes for rough days, though, with the power going out for so long. I'm wearing multiple layers every day, my gloves, my new hat, would be wearing a scarf if I had one, and my socks will transition from regular to heavy. I just picked up my smoke detector from PC, which is a req. due to my home requiring a whole bunch of coal (and no, I don't think it's NE PA coal) to stay moderately warm. My school is, I believe, closing for much of the winter - from Dec. 25-sometime in March. It's the #1 concern here.
--
So I've gotten back from the city with a bunch of goodies in hand. I bought some fresh persimmons from the bazaar, some of the cookies (that taste oh so good, and help with the hard times here) that are both comparatively cheap and delicious - vanilla and chocolate cookie with a chocolate filling, oreo style - some peanuts, of course, and a rare and expensive treat - dried pineapple. When I saw the pineapple my mouth was dropped in disbelief, and again at the price, but I just had to have it. It's not the best I've ever had, but for my favorite fruit I'd go for it again. I wish I had gotten some bananas while I was shopping - they were very cheap this trip, about 15 som a banana (they're usually 25+ som per) - but I was hankering for the persimmons more. There are a bit more oranges out now, but they're pretty expensive and will go down in price during the winter (I believe) - now they're about 25 som per orange, and in prime season they'll cost about 60 som per kilo. Of course, if prices aren't marked, one can always sodalash (bargain) the price down, as I did for my coat, hat, and some other small items. But that's usually a case of bringing an inflated price down to the norm, particularly since the perception is that Americans have lots of money, regardless of being a volunteer or not.
My daily life here is so strange. I'm constantly requesting to help out, have the fam show me their cooking techniques, etc. etc. but they never let me do anything. They'll say alright, but when the time comes it's no deal. A bit aggrivating, particularly as I'm sitting on my bed that's had no sheets for the past 4 days due to them insisting on washing things themselves. I can understand my clothes washing situation a bit - what with having a relic-of-a-washing machine - but I'm 'required' to do my own personal laundry (ie undies & socks) in the banya, which means I get to do a few pairs every week before my head explodes from how hot the banya room is. It's more a factor of me not feeling like I fit in here, feeling quite worthless at home, and feeling like the typical lazy Kyrgyz man who does nothing but sit around, complain, and bark out orders (which I don't do, but still). Whenever I even try to do something on my own, someone either coddles me with a 'Thanks very much! You did such a good job! Now go sit down, I can finish...' or 'No no, let me do that, you can watch but I'll do it.' At least I'm 'allowed' to clean my own room...
Kyrgyz men. These days nothing boils my blood quite like this group of people. Like I said earlier, they're typically a lot of lazy do-nothings. Now, I don't want to sit here making some sort of rash generalization, but evidence has, for the most part, proven this to be so. For example, here in KY women pretty much do everything - working in the fields, cleaning the house, making food, doing all the hard work. Men do... uh... lets see... well, at my school, the 1/10 or so staff that's male teach. Sometimes I'll see a random herder or worker, but women do that as well. For the most part, the men get drunk, very early on in the day, and either gamble in the baike circle (ring of guys squating on the side of a street, usually, with a bottle of vodka) or put on a facade of working at whatever they can consider their job. A favorite pastime of theirs is to harass volunteers, particularly female volunteers, so I'm always on my guard about that. Now, that in and of itself is enough to aggrivate me to no end. But what really gets me going is how they treat the women here - there is no such thing as gender equality here in KY. At work, the men generally ignore the women (and consequently vice versa), stick to a ring and converse among themselves. At home, men generally sit down and watch as the women do all the work, and are quick to lash out with admonishing commentary or criticism, despite A) not doing the work themselves and/or B) not even knowing how to do said work. It really angers me that women are beaten here. One of my friends, who lives in the most remote part of KY that PC goes to, has had a few neighbors bride kidnap women since he arrived at site. There is a super machismo here, but really nothing to back it up. The men do all sorts of messed up things, and none of the things they actually should be doing. In my mind, most of the men here are anti-men.
Now, a strong case for why this is so is present in the following: KY has had a very rough time after the Soviet collapse. Former doctors, engineers, and other such prestigious professions have had to either become farmers/store owners, or move to different countries. Despite being a primarily Muslim country, the most prevelant drink here is vodka, which is undoubtedly an influx from Russia. Before vodka, people drank kumuz (fermented mares milk) and gave toasts with that drink at parties etc. - now, however, it's pretty much all done with vodka. There are very few jobs in the villages, where Kyrgyz primarily live, so it's hard to live a successful life without being a farmer (or at least owning a few animals yourself). People marry very young (high school graduation is called Kuz [girl] bazaar) and many families are gigantic. Prior to Soviet rule, most marriages in KY were arranged. During Soviet rule, marriage was changed to be more in the style of what we in the west have - however, this met with resistance from the Kyrgyz, so some people opted to 'kidnap' one another, a practice that is present in KY's history but only very rarely, and the manner that is so prevelant today was strongly opposed and had severe consequences during and prior to Sovietism. This method evolved a bit over time starting from the 1930's-40's, and has become strongly ingrained into the mindset of people here as being a tradition - so nowadays, many men bride kidnap, often forcably (since dating seems to be nonexistant here, and the villages are so set in their ways).
--
Two days ago (Oct. 27th) I experienced one of the strangest experiences I've had here in Kyrgyzstan. I head to school for my afternoon classes, which are supposed to start at 2:00. I arrive at 1:55, wait in the teachers' room for about 15 minutes with nobody showing up, and finally some Ejes come in and say that my counterpart is in the cafeteria. Ok, I think, what the heck is going on now, we're missing class... So I head to the cafeteria, and there, 'lo and behold, is the majority of my school's staff, sitting around having a party. I'm not given time to digest the site - my presence is noticed and I have 10 people telling me to sit in 10 different places. I befuddledly stumble to a spot and promptly have all the markings of a Kyrgyz feast/party - candy, lots of bread, lots of borsok (fried pieces of dough), soda (ie soft drinks), vodka - shoved in my face. As I grogily take a piece of borsok and have 3 people pour me some off-brand orange soda (off-brands, while in the US are usually the exact same, are in my opinion terrible here - they all have a same candy-esque taste and aftertaste to them, feel like they'll burn a hole through my teeth, and just overall taste bad), people start getting up and giving toasts, with vodka of course, in what is today the Kyrgyz style. My counterpart decides to come over and talk with me a bit; I try asking what the heck is going on, but before long I'm on the spot to give a toast of my own. So I'm standing with a coffee mug of putrid orange soda, no idea what the heck is going on or what's being celebrated, with 20 people telling me to give a toast in Kyrgyz. I rattle off the standard 'Thank you everyone, good health to you all' and have a brain fart directly after as I realize I A) have no idea what this is for and B) even if I did probably wouldn't know the appropriate way to say it in Kyrgyz. So I speak for about 1 minute, in English, about how it's an honor to be here, thanks to you all for being hospitable, etc. I sip my soda; that's not good enough! Down it in one gulp! So I comply, sit down, and try to stop my head from spinning.
I'm shipped off to class on my own as my counterpart helps clean up. The classroom I'm supposed to go to is locked, so I flounder back to the party area. Go wait in the teacher's lounge. Alright... When all's said and done, my counterpart and I head to what was presumably our next class. Only our schedule was all messed up, and we arrived one period ahead, so had an empty classroom for about 40 minutes. I glean that the celebration was for my counterpart; she was celebrating (re: being the woman, making food and serving for 3 days straight) the fact that one side of the family had given her and her husband wedding gifts. Note: I think they've been married for one year already, or something. But the party at school was to celebrate the fact that she had a celebration and now had gifts. That, in a nutshell, is the way Kyrgyz people celebrate stuff - if someone they met once on a corner 5 years ago during a storm happens to go out and, say, buy a car, or donkey, or plants a tree, or something, everyone is inclined to celebrate it with plenty of food and drink. As my mind is trying to buffer the thought process of this celebration method, my counterpart and I got into a discussion about how she thinks she's too old to have kids, and I think she's almost too young to be married. For the record she's 25, and according to her, her doctor, and most Kyrgyz people, she will be an old hag incapable of producing life very soon. I just call it crazy, especially her bit about 18-20 being the best time to have kids. Oi...
My host family. If I could describe it in one statement at the moment, it would have to be: spectacularly mediocre. Not bad, not good. It's a real struggle trying to do most anything - since kids are pretty much supposed to do all the work, and my house is anything but lacking kid-power, I can't really do a whole lot here. I've offered countless times to help and have simply been brushed off. My life at home seems to consist of three rooms - the dining room, the outhouse, and my bedroom where I spend most of my time. I haven't seen my host Eje (still disturbed that it's Eje and not host mother) for a while. My only solace is the oh-so-rare conversation with a family member at the dinner table, or spending time with my youngest host brother. I've tried talking about napkin usage at the dinner table with my family due to my nose issues (note: every meal tends to be scalding hot soup with some nice hot tea to wash it down, which my nose just loves...). They all seem embarassed about it, and lately it's been me and my sister eating meals, then afterward (or sometimes even beforehand) everyone else piles in to eat. Oh, my family also stopped buying toilet paper for some reason, instead opting for the old used notebook or Soviet handbook - I think right now the spiders of the outhouse understand me more. Oi vei.
The food here. While it's not bad, I'm starting to miss the better tastes of life (particularly after the 5th or so day straight of soup - have to pee so much every day now). It's gotten to the point where I'm retreating to my room, raiding my personal stash every day. Things have left me desiring something more; granted, not exceptionally more, but one can only do so much with potatoes and cabbage. The other night I was literally dreaming of cinnamon buns - I woke up soon after, finding I had drooled all over myself. Hot broth and noodles and cabbage and potatoes - decently filling, not pleasant for my pallet after so many days straight (particularly since they love putting dill - which I hate - fairly liberally into soups). Something non-soup would be wonderful right about now. A taste from home would be even more wonderful. I sure hope the Kyrgyz postal system doesn't pull shenanigans with my mail, as they've been known to do. So far, no packages since before I arrived at site, when PST ended and I was as of that time not yet a volunteer.
So today is my brother Sean's birthday. Happy birthday. Sorry I can't really get you a present, I'm kinda on the other side of the world. Good luck with football and hope everything goes well. Don't be too miserable - look at me, I'm in a place even colder than home, using an outdoors bathroom with spiders all the time, get to stand in a van for 40 minutes if I want to go anywhere, have to wait at least 4 hours before I have usable water, and don't have electricity for the greater majority of the day. I'm not that unhappy either! So have a good one, and eat some good food for me, maybe I'll start dreaming of it.
Three times. It's snowed three times so far in the past week's worth timespan. Unfreakinbelievable. My heater is sitting here, uselessly plugged in during our unforgiving period of electric drought. It's cold enough to make me chilly 24-7, but not outrageously so. And when I say 24-7, I mean 24-7. With my heater, my room can get maybe into the mid-60s. Heat is a winter commodity that's nigh-impossible to come by. It's either "Oh my God" cold outside, or "Eh, slightly less" cold inside. No refreshing warm showers, no thermostat to crank, no exceptional covers to crawl under. There's the 1-3 times a day I eat, getting something warm, and that's roughly it. Park myself next to my heater when the electricity comes back on, and my toes might thaw. Oh ho, it's going to be a fun fun winter. Please, post office, don't screw around with my packages and take my warm clothes...
--
So privacy is a bit of an issue for me. My family is cool about it - heck, half the time they treat me like I have the plague. It's the outsiders that give me a hard time. My room is situated as the first part of the house you can see, being front and center. My home is sort of a comunal hotspot - we have a banya that several people in the neighborhood utilize and a water pump that's frequently used by the locals. That, plus all sorts of other business deals, friends dropping by, and lord only knows what else, and we have a regular hotel lobby going on here. In Kyrgyzstan, it's rare for a house to have a doorbell, so people bang, yell, and whistle. When whatever random person they're calling for doesn't answer, they come on in and bang louder, opening doors, etc. Unfortunately for me, this means they'll come right up to my window and start banging and calling. Also, the closed door seems a foreign concept to people here - I've had a few incidents of completely random people walking into my room. That scares the hell out of me; fortunately nothing has happened yet, but my presedence hasn't been completely established. I always lock my door when I'm not at home. Finally, the curtains to my room. Like I said earlier, my room is the first one you can see when walking into the house. It also has a rather large berth of window exposure, and just a thin see-through curtain which serves almost no purpose but decoration. So yeah, I have to hide every time I change, lest I flash the entire community. Privacy, thou art a commodity.
Finally, a break of pace from the soup run. A plate o' potatoes! Yay! At least it's not scalding soup, which aggrivates my nose the most. And tea is more tolerable when I don't have a gallon of broth going down my throat. Still, I miss decent cold drinks - I may freeze to death when I go back to the States just from that alone.
When I close my eyes I feel so at peace, like a weight has been lifted. I really need this Fall Break we're having next week (Oct 31-Nov 7), a time to recharge and get some planning done. Also, I might head to Bishkek with some of the other volunteers. That'll be something - I can use the post office there and attempt to get gifts (Christmas et al) sent, meet up with some friends, check out the eats, and generally just get away from the village for a few days. Hope I have enough $$! Oi. Living on about $65 a month, been saving a good deal of it for a while. Good thing my primary shop is the bazaar, where the price can be bargained, sometimes.
One thing I've realized is that despite living away from home for the greater majority of the past 4, 4 1/2 years, I've always been home for the holidays. This year will be my first away from home during Thanksgiving and Christmas. Not easy - particularly since nobody here celebrates our holidays. Instead of Christmas they have Jangu Jill, New Years, which is the biggest holiday of the year. It has Santa, and celebration, but nothing of what makes Christmas the holiday it is today. Here there's a feast, and a gigantic Santa parade because some Swedish research group found that Santa's home would be here in Kyrgyzstan if he were to feasibly make a trip around the world in one night. But it just sounds like a bigger version of every other party they have here; not bad, but not Christmas. More similar to Thanksgiving, if anything.
--
These new pictures of that studly figure are none other than yours truly, taken just a few days ago. First there's me in my pimp-jacket and baeke hat, gearing up for the long haul of winter's cold. What's missing right now is a pair of boots, perhaps some matching gloves (I have good ones but they're brown grr...) and a nice ol scarf to go along with it all, possibly some earmuffs as well (the baeke hat has a flip-down action in the back, but it's not spectacular). The second picture is me sporting my Obama shirt; it reads "Obama, for the sake of America," from Americans Abroad for Obama, Kyrgyzstan (which wasn't cheap, either - lots o money for one on a volunteer budget). You can of course glimpse my room in all it's unkempt splendor in the background. I wear big clothes to hide my skinny self! I think I'm getting back on track weight-wise -- been eating a lot of bread, and taking second helpings, and munching on my snacks, and trying to get my fruit intake, and haven't been sick, and, and, and...
I raided the PC Talas Library last time I was in the city. At my rate, I think I'll have all the books read by the end of winter, perhaps third time through 'em all by next year's winter.
So I'm pretty nervous about next week and the election. The latest news I have is from September, with some sprinklings from emails about what's going on. I'm also miffed that I won't have the opportunity to vote, stupid Windsor Post Office or whoever it was that decided not to mail my ballot because the address compilation is switched in Kyrgyzstan (i.e. country, oblast/state, rayon/district, city/town, street, name, in descending order). Oi... the biggest election and I don't get to participate. Someone revoke my Poly Sci BA. But I hope McCain is still drowning in his muck, and Palin messing things up with her complete lack of worthwhile credential. I may have to follow other volunteers and take on an extended service if I don't get to come back to a paper with Obama's sig on it. Lord knows the irony of Bush's sig on the PC papers I got when I signed up.
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The fact that I'm here is slowly dawning on me - that I'm actually here - and it's a bit frightening, revealing, and confusing. Mainly, this brand of volunteer work is vastly different from anything and everything I've ever done. In the past I've held volunteer work as work packed for time, never a lack of things to do, plenty of people willing to share and experience. While here it's not the opposite of those things, it's a completely different brand of volunteerism. I'm not here for a few hours, a day, or a week; I'm here living with people in their environment for a greater amount of time, attempting to both be one of them and an outsider with new ideas all at the same time. There's needs and problems, but I'm not working in a volunteer-prone area; rather, working for free (almost, I still get my living allowances) is as foreign a concept as I am. I need to dig to discover, work at fitting in, learn and listen and watch. The time here is slow, very slow, and it's easy to fall into habitual neglect or oversight. People love to glaze over problems, are quick to highlight the things they're proud of; it's true of practically any culture (see: tourism) but it makes for a mountain in terms of tackling real issues. It's going to take a lot of patience and perseverance, and I hope I'm up to this task. No amount of preperation could brace someone for a situation such as this - it has to be tackled with individual touch and gradual perception, empathy, sympathy.
In many ways Kyrgyzstan has blindsided me. When thinking of Peace Corps the typical image is a volunteer in shorts, t-shirts, and sandals; the typical African or Central/South American volunteer. Here I'm wearing business clothes every day. I've been thrown into a position as a teacher - and not just a teacher, a co-teacher, which is very very challenging - when I'm more used to doing volunteer volunteer work (i.e. spending time with the needy, helping out with this or that cause, etc.). It feels like a 9-5 job (sometimes 8-6 with no break), with quite a few more hitches to it. My role as a teacher is a bit aggrivating - I can't work with my counterparts outside of class due to the shame factor of them being young women in a village, materials are scarce, the old ways of teaching are quite apparant and highly cumbersome, and I generally don't have much of an idea what goes on (or what will go on, lesson plans aren't shared with me) during class. I think there are some bright points in what I've done so far - students sticking up for me, students rushing to me after class to give them their grade (I'll often give good grades for sheer effort, of which there is quite a lacking), students wanting so badly to get an English club going, students students students. Pretty much everything good that has happened to me here in Kyrgyzstan has been something out of preservice training or with my students. Granted, some of my worst moments also occurred with both, but who wouldn't expect that. I'll be the odd-teacher-out in that I'll side with the students whenever I can - homework and classwork system of books nobody has be damned!
On that note I'm somewhat unnerved with the degree to which my host family has extended itself to important positions. When talking about family, the conversation always goes something like "... and so-and-so is the director of x school, this person is part of the local government, cousin Bobbek (men often have bek - lord - at the end of their name) runs this company..." and so on. Part of me thinks it has to do with showing off, part of me thinks it's an attempt to assert something or other. For example, one host uncle-type-person told me if I had problems with anyone I should call him, and he'd fix them because he knows a lot of men (presumably police or ruffians, though they're practically one in the same here). He also wants me to take him to America once I go back, which seems to be a fairly common sentiment here, despite things being 'better, healthier, bigger...' in Kyrgyzstan. I know that to a large degree nepotism and favors play a role in what you are in this country. It unnerves me because Kyrgyzstan has quite a few problems, but nothing gets solved when a person goes to a job because their brother got it for them and they like the money, and they don't really know what to do so they show up at 10 a.m., often drunk, and just collect a paych... uh, lump of som (haven't seen a check here). The mentality here is all about helping one another out, be it friend or family, and little regard is given to efficiency or quality. It's readily apparent in school, with how students (despite me telling them don't cheat, don't talk to one another) will always shout or whisper answers, copy off one another, or throw things around the room (the real kicker is when they did it during our quarter's end exam - which consisted of them copying a text from a book, word for word; some students still failed even that). This culture is all about being part of a whole, scratch my back I'll scratch yours, and enh you're a friend of my brother's friend so I'll let that slide. Aggrivating in some regards, admirable in others.
The act of saying to someone 'you have problems' is never an easy one. It's also bad to go about something in a manner such as straight up giving them a bunch of something - the impressions of both wealth and dependence are none-too optimistic. The art of diplomacy must be employed in such a case, in my case, and I'm hoping that what experience I have will help me. I've held my tongue on numerous accounts so far in-country - I must continue to do so until a point in time when I can comfortably start including issues into my actions and words. Everything is so fresh and real, and my idealistic heart yearns to jump where my practical mind deems 'not yet.' Oh, but to have the knowledge, community integration, and understanding of my village... time feels oh so drudgingly excruciating sometimes.
On that note, I realize how little and how much time I have here in Kyrgyzstan. It's a lot because it's two years in a foreign environment, doing work previously not done, learning a new language, customs, values, style of living etc. I'll be able to establish relationships and do many things that would be unthinkable if I did anything other than be a volunteer. On the other hand, if the past few years have taught me anything, years tend to fly by. The here-and-now may seem long, but in reality it's short and miniscule. Some things I will have to adapt to here, some things I will not. For instance, I fully intend to start up some sort of youth dialogue/awareness club (perhaps for the summer, but it can be integrated into my English Club) in order to talk about primarily Kyrgyzstan but also the rest of the world, pros & cons, perceptions, opinions, etc. It's a difficult task because this culture is fairly adamant about avoiding any such discussion directly - people have their ideas, but they're often conveyed via middleman, and even then it can take a long (i.e. perhaps six months) to reach the subject of conversation. But I don't have that kind of time, to ask a question and wait for weeks or months for a response. As I've mentioned before, people are adamant about me "taking a girl" - this is a concession I will not make, and I don't care about offending people about it. There are several important and alarming issues facing this country, and rather than sit back and simply be a teacher, it's my duty and call to be the volunteer that I decided to be and do something more than sit idly by and comply with every single societal norm. Some things, yes. Some things, absolutely not. Time will tell how it pans out, but my job here is to follow what my sentiments and beliefs in the previous paragraph are.
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The other day it started snowing here. None of it stuck, fortunately, but that still doesn't bode well. I've got my ridiculously heavy (the thing weighs about 20 pounds) winter coat and matching Jigeet (typically just a guy, man, dude, w/e) hat to go with it. The only thing I need now is a decent pair of boots, and something good in the way of undergarments (which I hope will arrive soon). The bazaar is devoid of many familair foods, with bread, potatoes, apples, persimmons, and expensive oranges taking the primary role now. Inside is little relief from outside, though honestly it's not much different from Harvest Lane (you know, with the whole not having/turning on of heat). It certainly makes for rough days, though, with the power going out for so long. I'm wearing multiple layers every day, my gloves, my new hat, would be wearing a scarf if I had one, and my socks will transition from regular to heavy. I just picked up my smoke detector from PC, which is a req. due to my home requiring a whole bunch of coal (and no, I don't think it's NE PA coal) to stay moderately warm. My school is, I believe, closing for much of the winter - from Dec. 25-sometime in March. It's the #1 concern here.
--
So I've gotten back from the city with a bunch of goodies in hand. I bought some fresh persimmons from the bazaar, some of the cookies (that taste oh so good, and help with the hard times here) that are both comparatively cheap and delicious - vanilla and chocolate cookie with a chocolate filling, oreo style - some peanuts, of course, and a rare and expensive treat - dried pineapple. When I saw the pineapple my mouth was dropped in disbelief, and again at the price, but I just had to have it. It's not the best I've ever had, but for my favorite fruit I'd go for it again. I wish I had gotten some bananas while I was shopping - they were very cheap this trip, about 15 som a banana (they're usually 25+ som per) - but I was hankering for the persimmons more. There are a bit more oranges out now, but they're pretty expensive and will go down in price during the winter (I believe) - now they're about 25 som per orange, and in prime season they'll cost about 60 som per kilo. Of course, if prices aren't marked, one can always sodalash (bargain) the price down, as I did for my coat, hat, and some other small items. But that's usually a case of bringing an inflated price down to the norm, particularly since the perception is that Americans have lots of money, regardless of being a volunteer or not.
My daily life here is so strange. I'm constantly requesting to help out, have the fam show me their cooking techniques, etc. etc. but they never let me do anything. They'll say alright, but when the time comes it's no deal. A bit aggrivating, particularly as I'm sitting on my bed that's had no sheets for the past 4 days due to them insisting on washing things themselves. I can understand my clothes washing situation a bit - what with having a relic-of-a-washing machine - but I'm 'required' to do my own personal laundry (ie undies & socks) in the banya, which means I get to do a few pairs every week before my head explodes from how hot the banya room is. It's more a factor of me not feeling like I fit in here, feeling quite worthless at home, and feeling like the typical lazy Kyrgyz man who does nothing but sit around, complain, and bark out orders (which I don't do, but still). Whenever I even try to do something on my own, someone either coddles me with a 'Thanks very much! You did such a good job! Now go sit down, I can finish...' or 'No no, let me do that, you can watch but I'll do it.' At least I'm 'allowed' to clean my own room...
Kyrgyz men. These days nothing boils my blood quite like this group of people. Like I said earlier, they're typically a lot of lazy do-nothings. Now, I don't want to sit here making some sort of rash generalization, but evidence has, for the most part, proven this to be so. For example, here in KY women pretty much do everything - working in the fields, cleaning the house, making food, doing all the hard work. Men do... uh... lets see... well, at my school, the 1/10 or so staff that's male teach. Sometimes I'll see a random herder or worker, but women do that as well. For the most part, the men get drunk, very early on in the day, and either gamble in the baike circle (ring of guys squating on the side of a street, usually, with a bottle of vodka) or put on a facade of working at whatever they can consider their job. A favorite pastime of theirs is to harass volunteers, particularly female volunteers, so I'm always on my guard about that. Now, that in and of itself is enough to aggrivate me to no end. But what really gets me going is how they treat the women here - there is no such thing as gender equality here in KY. At work, the men generally ignore the women (and consequently vice versa), stick to a ring and converse among themselves. At home, men generally sit down and watch as the women do all the work, and are quick to lash out with admonishing commentary or criticism, despite A) not doing the work themselves and/or B) not even knowing how to do said work. It really angers me that women are beaten here. One of my friends, who lives in the most remote part of KY that PC goes to, has had a few neighbors bride kidnap women since he arrived at site. There is a super machismo here, but really nothing to back it up. The men do all sorts of messed up things, and none of the things they actually should be doing. In my mind, most of the men here are anti-men.
Now, a strong case for why this is so is present in the following: KY has had a very rough time after the Soviet collapse. Former doctors, engineers, and other such prestigious professions have had to either become farmers/store owners, or move to different countries. Despite being a primarily Muslim country, the most prevelant drink here is vodka, which is undoubtedly an influx from Russia. Before vodka, people drank kumuz (fermented mares milk) and gave toasts with that drink at parties etc. - now, however, it's pretty much all done with vodka. There are very few jobs in the villages, where Kyrgyz primarily live, so it's hard to live a successful life without being a farmer (or at least owning a few animals yourself). People marry very young (high school graduation is called Kuz [girl] bazaar) and many families are gigantic. Prior to Soviet rule, most marriages in KY were arranged. During Soviet rule, marriage was changed to be more in the style of what we in the west have - however, this met with resistance from the Kyrgyz, so some people opted to 'kidnap' one another, a practice that is present in KY's history but only very rarely, and the manner that is so prevelant today was strongly opposed and had severe consequences during and prior to Sovietism. This method evolved a bit over time starting from the 1930's-40's, and has become strongly ingrained into the mindset of people here as being a tradition - so nowadays, many men bride kidnap, often forcably (since dating seems to be nonexistant here, and the villages are so set in their ways).
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Two days ago (Oct. 27th) I experienced one of the strangest experiences I've had here in Kyrgyzstan. I head to school for my afternoon classes, which are supposed to start at 2:00. I arrive at 1:55, wait in the teachers' room for about 15 minutes with nobody showing up, and finally some Ejes come in and say that my counterpart is in the cafeteria. Ok, I think, what the heck is going on now, we're missing class... So I head to the cafeteria, and there, 'lo and behold, is the majority of my school's staff, sitting around having a party. I'm not given time to digest the site - my presence is noticed and I have 10 people telling me to sit in 10 different places. I befuddledly stumble to a spot and promptly have all the markings of a Kyrgyz feast/party - candy, lots of bread, lots of borsok (fried pieces of dough), soda (ie soft drinks), vodka - shoved in my face. As I grogily take a piece of borsok and have 3 people pour me some off-brand orange soda (off-brands, while in the US are usually the exact same, are in my opinion terrible here - they all have a same candy-esque taste and aftertaste to them, feel like they'll burn a hole through my teeth, and just overall taste bad), people start getting up and giving toasts, with vodka of course, in what is today the Kyrgyz style. My counterpart decides to come over and talk with me a bit; I try asking what the heck is going on, but before long I'm on the spot to give a toast of my own. So I'm standing with a coffee mug of putrid orange soda, no idea what the heck is going on or what's being celebrated, with 20 people telling me to give a toast in Kyrgyz. I rattle off the standard 'Thank you everyone, good health to you all' and have a brain fart directly after as I realize I A) have no idea what this is for and B) even if I did probably wouldn't know the appropriate way to say it in Kyrgyz. So I speak for about 1 minute, in English, about how it's an honor to be here, thanks to you all for being hospitable, etc. I sip my soda; that's not good enough! Down it in one gulp! So I comply, sit down, and try to stop my head from spinning.
I'm shipped off to class on my own as my counterpart helps clean up. The classroom I'm supposed to go to is locked, so I flounder back to the party area. Go wait in the teacher's lounge. Alright... When all's said and done, my counterpart and I head to what was presumably our next class. Only our schedule was all messed up, and we arrived one period ahead, so had an empty classroom for about 40 minutes. I glean that the celebration was for my counterpart; she was celebrating (re: being the woman, making food and serving for 3 days straight) the fact that one side of the family had given her and her husband wedding gifts. Note: I think they've been married for one year already, or something. But the party at school was to celebrate the fact that she had a celebration and now had gifts. That, in a nutshell, is the way Kyrgyz people celebrate stuff - if someone they met once on a corner 5 years ago during a storm happens to go out and, say, buy a car, or donkey, or plants a tree, or something, everyone is inclined to celebrate it with plenty of food and drink. As my mind is trying to buffer the thought process of this celebration method, my counterpart and I got into a discussion about how she thinks she's too old to have kids, and I think she's almost too young to be married. For the record she's 25, and according to her, her doctor, and most Kyrgyz people, she will be an old hag incapable of producing life very soon. I just call it crazy, especially her bit about 18-20 being the best time to have kids. Oi...
My host family. If I could describe it in one statement at the moment, it would have to be: spectacularly mediocre. Not bad, not good. It's a real struggle trying to do most anything - since kids are pretty much supposed to do all the work, and my house is anything but lacking kid-power, I can't really do a whole lot here. I've offered countless times to help and have simply been brushed off. My life at home seems to consist of three rooms - the dining room, the outhouse, and my bedroom where I spend most of my time. I haven't seen my host Eje (still disturbed that it's Eje and not host mother) for a while. My only solace is the oh-so-rare conversation with a family member at the dinner table, or spending time with my youngest host brother. I've tried talking about napkin usage at the dinner table with my family due to my nose issues (note: every meal tends to be scalding hot soup with some nice hot tea to wash it down, which my nose just loves...). They all seem embarassed about it, and lately it's been me and my sister eating meals, then afterward (or sometimes even beforehand) everyone else piles in to eat. Oh, my family also stopped buying toilet paper for some reason, instead opting for the old used notebook or Soviet handbook - I think right now the spiders of the outhouse understand me more. Oi vei.
The food here. While it's not bad, I'm starting to miss the better tastes of life (particularly after the 5th or so day straight of soup - have to pee so much every day now). It's gotten to the point where I'm retreating to my room, raiding my personal stash every day. Things have left me desiring something more; granted, not exceptionally more, but one can only do so much with potatoes and cabbage. The other night I was literally dreaming of cinnamon buns - I woke up soon after, finding I had drooled all over myself. Hot broth and noodles and cabbage and potatoes - decently filling, not pleasant for my pallet after so many days straight (particularly since they love putting dill - which I hate - fairly liberally into soups). Something non-soup would be wonderful right about now. A taste from home would be even more wonderful. I sure hope the Kyrgyz postal system doesn't pull shenanigans with my mail, as they've been known to do. So far, no packages since before I arrived at site, when PST ended and I was as of that time not yet a volunteer.
So today is my brother Sean's birthday. Happy birthday. Sorry I can't really get you a present, I'm kinda on the other side of the world. Good luck with football and hope everything goes well. Don't be too miserable - look at me, I'm in a place even colder than home, using an outdoors bathroom with spiders all the time, get to stand in a van for 40 minutes if I want to go anywhere, have to wait at least 4 hours before I have usable water, and don't have electricity for the greater majority of the day. I'm not that unhappy either! So have a good one, and eat some good food for me, maybe I'll start dreaming of it.
Three times. It's snowed three times so far in the past week's worth timespan. Unfreakinbelievable. My heater is sitting here, uselessly plugged in during our unforgiving period of electric drought. It's cold enough to make me chilly 24-7, but not outrageously so. And when I say 24-7, I mean 24-7. With my heater, my room can get maybe into the mid-60s. Heat is a winter commodity that's nigh-impossible to come by. It's either "Oh my God" cold outside, or "Eh, slightly less" cold inside. No refreshing warm showers, no thermostat to crank, no exceptional covers to crawl under. There's the 1-3 times a day I eat, getting something warm, and that's roughly it. Park myself next to my heater when the electricity comes back on, and my toes might thaw. Oh ho, it's going to be a fun fun winter. Please, post office, don't screw around with my packages and take my warm clothes...
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So privacy is a bit of an issue for me. My family is cool about it - heck, half the time they treat me like I have the plague. It's the outsiders that give me a hard time. My room is situated as the first part of the house you can see, being front and center. My home is sort of a comunal hotspot - we have a banya that several people in the neighborhood utilize and a water pump that's frequently used by the locals. That, plus all sorts of other business deals, friends dropping by, and lord only knows what else, and we have a regular hotel lobby going on here. In Kyrgyzstan, it's rare for a house to have a doorbell, so people bang, yell, and whistle. When whatever random person they're calling for doesn't answer, they come on in and bang louder, opening doors, etc. Unfortunately for me, this means they'll come right up to my window and start banging and calling. Also, the closed door seems a foreign concept to people here - I've had a few incidents of completely random people walking into my room. That scares the hell out of me; fortunately nothing has happened yet, but my presedence hasn't been completely established. I always lock my door when I'm not at home. Finally, the curtains to my room. Like I said earlier, my room is the first one you can see when walking into the house. It also has a rather large berth of window exposure, and just a thin see-through curtain which serves almost no purpose but decoration. So yeah, I have to hide every time I change, lest I flash the entire community. Privacy, thou art a commodity.
Finally, a break of pace from the soup run. A plate o' potatoes! Yay! At least it's not scalding soup, which aggrivates my nose the most. And tea is more tolerable when I don't have a gallon of broth going down my throat. Still, I miss decent cold drinks - I may freeze to death when I go back to the States just from that alone.
When I close my eyes I feel so at peace, like a weight has been lifted. I really need this Fall Break we're having next week (Oct 31-Nov 7), a time to recharge and get some planning done. Also, I might head to Bishkek with some of the other volunteers. That'll be something - I can use the post office there and attempt to get gifts (Christmas et al) sent, meet up with some friends, check out the eats, and generally just get away from the village for a few days. Hope I have enough $$! Oi. Living on about $65 a month, been saving a good deal of it for a while. Good thing my primary shop is the bazaar, where the price can be bargained, sometimes.
One thing I've realized is that despite living away from home for the greater majority of the past 4, 4 1/2 years, I've always been home for the holidays. This year will be my first away from home during Thanksgiving and Christmas. Not easy - particularly since nobody here celebrates our holidays. Instead of Christmas they have Jangu Jill, New Years, which is the biggest holiday of the year. It has Santa, and celebration, but nothing of what makes Christmas the holiday it is today. Here there's a feast, and a gigantic Santa parade because some Swedish research group found that Santa's home would be here in Kyrgyzstan if he were to feasibly make a trip around the world in one night. But it just sounds like a bigger version of every other party they have here; not bad, but not Christmas. More similar to Thanksgiving, if anything.
--
These new pictures of that studly figure are none other than yours truly, taken just a few days ago. First there's me in my pimp-jacket and baeke hat, gearing up for the long haul of winter's cold. What's missing right now is a pair of boots, perhaps some matching gloves (I have good ones but they're brown grr...) and a nice ol scarf to go along with it all, possibly some earmuffs as well (the baeke hat has a flip-down action in the back, but it's not spectacular). The second picture is me sporting my Obama shirt; it reads "Obama, for the sake of America," from Americans Abroad for Obama, Kyrgyzstan (which wasn't cheap, either - lots o money for one on a volunteer budget). You can of course glimpse my room in all it's unkempt splendor in the background. I wear big clothes to hide my skinny self! I think I'm getting back on track weight-wise -- been eating a lot of bread, and taking second helpings, and munching on my snacks, and trying to get my fruit intake, and haven't been sick, and, and, and...
I raided the PC Talas Library last time I was in the city. At my rate, I think I'll have all the books read by the end of winter, perhaps third time through 'em all by next year's winter.
So I'm pretty nervous about next week and the election. The latest news I have is from September, with some sprinklings from emails about what's going on. I'm also miffed that I won't have the opportunity to vote, stupid Windsor Post Office or whoever it was that decided not to mail my ballot because the address compilation is switched in Kyrgyzstan (i.e. country, oblast/state, rayon/district, city/town, street, name, in descending order). Oi... the biggest election and I don't get to participate. Someone revoke my Poly Sci BA. But I hope McCain is still drowning in his muck, and Palin messing things up with her complete lack of worthwhile credential. I may have to follow other volunteers and take on an extended service if I don't get to come back to a paper with Obama's sig on it. Lord knows the irony of Bush's sig on the PC papers I got when I signed up.
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The fact that I'm here is slowly dawning on me - that I'm actually here - and it's a bit frightening, revealing, and confusing. Mainly, this brand of volunteer work is vastly different from anything and everything I've ever done. In the past I've held volunteer work as work packed for time, never a lack of things to do, plenty of people willing to share and experience. While here it's not the opposite of those things, it's a completely different brand of volunteerism. I'm not here for a few hours, a day, or a week; I'm here living with people in their environment for a greater amount of time, attempting to both be one of them and an outsider with new ideas all at the same time. There's needs and problems, but I'm not working in a volunteer-prone area; rather, working for free (almost, I still get my living allowances) is as foreign a concept as I am. I need to dig to discover, work at fitting in, learn and listen and watch. The time here is slow, very slow, and it's easy to fall into habitual neglect or oversight. People love to glaze over problems, are quick to highlight the things they're proud of; it's true of practically any culture (see: tourism) but it makes for a mountain in terms of tackling real issues. It's going to take a lot of patience and perseverance, and I hope I'm up to this task. No amount of preperation could brace someone for a situation such as this - it has to be tackled with individual touch and gradual perception, empathy, sympathy.
In many ways Kyrgyzstan has blindsided me. When thinking of Peace Corps the typical image is a volunteer in shorts, t-shirts, and sandals; the typical African or Central/South American volunteer. Here I'm wearing business clothes every day. I've been thrown into a position as a teacher - and not just a teacher, a co-teacher, which is very very challenging - when I'm more used to doing volunteer volunteer work (i.e. spending time with the needy, helping out with this or that cause, etc.). It feels like a 9-5 job (sometimes 8-6 with no break), with quite a few more hitches to it. My role as a teacher is a bit aggrivating - I can't work with my counterparts outside of class due to the shame factor of them being young women in a village, materials are scarce, the old ways of teaching are quite apparant and highly cumbersome, and I generally don't have much of an idea what goes on (or what will go on, lesson plans aren't shared with me) during class. I think there are some bright points in what I've done so far - students sticking up for me, students rushing to me after class to give them their grade (I'll often give good grades for sheer effort, of which there is quite a lacking), students wanting so badly to get an English club going, students students students. Pretty much everything good that has happened to me here in Kyrgyzstan has been something out of preservice training or with my students. Granted, some of my worst moments also occurred with both, but who wouldn't expect that. I'll be the odd-teacher-out in that I'll side with the students whenever I can - homework and classwork system of books nobody has be damned!
On that note I'm somewhat unnerved with the degree to which my host family has extended itself to important positions. When talking about family, the conversation always goes something like "... and so-and-so is the director of x school, this person is part of the local government, cousin Bobbek (men often have bek - lord - at the end of their name) runs this company..." and so on. Part of me thinks it has to do with showing off, part of me thinks it's an attempt to assert something or other. For example, one host uncle-type-person told me if I had problems with anyone I should call him, and he'd fix them because he knows a lot of men (presumably police or ruffians, though they're practically one in the same here). He also wants me to take him to America once I go back, which seems to be a fairly common sentiment here, despite things being 'better, healthier, bigger...' in Kyrgyzstan. I know that to a large degree nepotism and favors play a role in what you are in this country. It unnerves me because Kyrgyzstan has quite a few problems, but nothing gets solved when a person goes to a job because their brother got it for them and they like the money, and they don't really know what to do so they show up at 10 a.m., often drunk, and just collect a paych... uh, lump of som (haven't seen a check here). The mentality here is all about helping one another out, be it friend or family, and little regard is given to efficiency or quality. It's readily apparent in school, with how students (despite me telling them don't cheat, don't talk to one another) will always shout or whisper answers, copy off one another, or throw things around the room (the real kicker is when they did it during our quarter's end exam - which consisted of them copying a text from a book, word for word; some students still failed even that). This culture is all about being part of a whole, scratch my back I'll scratch yours, and enh you're a friend of my brother's friend so I'll let that slide. Aggrivating in some regards, admirable in others.
The act of saying to someone 'you have problems' is never an easy one. It's also bad to go about something in a manner such as straight up giving them a bunch of something - the impressions of both wealth and dependence are none-too optimistic. The art of diplomacy must be employed in such a case, in my case, and I'm hoping that what experience I have will help me. I've held my tongue on numerous accounts so far in-country - I must continue to do so until a point in time when I can comfortably start including issues into my actions and words. Everything is so fresh and real, and my idealistic heart yearns to jump where my practical mind deems 'not yet.' Oh, but to have the knowledge, community integration, and understanding of my village... time feels oh so drudgingly excruciating sometimes.
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