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.
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