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!
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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.
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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

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!

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!
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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.
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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!

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.

--

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.