Merry Christmas, all! (even though I'm a day late -- the wishes are warm all the same)
So it's been snowing here. A lot. Like 4 or 5 inches every other day...so the layer of ice and snow that stays on the sidewalks from December to February has arrived. We've also had some interesting geological activity - as I was preparing my 8th graders for the Rudolph skit they will perform tomorrow for the school holiday program, we had a smallish but definitely noticable earthquake. The kids immediately poured into the hallways, to get outside in case the building started falling apart (an occurance that isn't all that unlikely -- last year, a friend of mine had to change sites after his house was made unliveable by a quake). Anyway, my kids and I emerged unscathed from the earthquake...
All the snow has made weather the conversational topic of choice once again. During dinner a few nights ago, my host sister told me that my littlest host sister -- Nazik, who's nearly 2 now -- was born during a snowstorm. She then proceeded to tell me that during the storm (and, therefore, during her labor), the electricity in the hospital went off. FOR 4 HOURS. True to her character, though, she didn't complain about it at all -- just said, after seeing my horror-stricken face, "Oh, it was ok...I mean, it was still warm inside." Talk about a badass.
Happy Holidays everyone -- hope the new year finds you healthy and happy! I know that I'm pretty excited for 2008, as I'll be spending the first two weeks of it in India.
Terri
26 December 2007
08 December 2007
Especially for the Kingsporters
So the other day, I walk into my 7th form (8th grade) class and see a brand-new map of America taped to the blackboard. I quickly see that it's in Russian, so don't really give it more than a passing glance. I do note, however, that the American landscape is covered with dots of various sizes and colors. I figured it had something to do with natural disasters and then proceeded to start to take attendance.
Predictably, however, my kids then dragged me back over to the map, eagerly asking where my family and I live. I point to some random blank space that looked about right (the States not having been labelled, it was a pretty vague gesture). But then my kids go, "Ahh...Kingsport!" I did a double-take, and realized that the dots on the map referred to the American industries....and Kingsport was a sizeable purple (for chemical plant) dot! Bigger than almost every other dot in the vicinity! So score one for good ole Ktown.
Predictably, however, my kids then dragged me back over to the map, eagerly asking where my family and I live. I point to some random blank space that looked about right (the States not having been labelled, it was a pretty vague gesture). But then my kids go, "Ahh...Kingsport!" I did a double-take, and realized that the dots on the map referred to the American industries....and Kingsport was a sizeable purple (for chemical plant) dot! Bigger than almost every other dot in the vicinity! So score one for good ole Ktown.
01 December 2007
Speakers and Socialists
Last weekend (after a meatless but nevertheless delicious Thanksgiving dinner in a nearby village. I'm pretty sure that I will make pumpkin pie with fresh pumpkin from now on -- it's that delicious.), I headed out to complete the first (and, arguably, most exciting) phase of our club renovation project: the purchase of all the electronic sound equipment. My school counterpart and her husband came with me, since -- much to their surprise, since I'm a technologically-savvy American in their minds -- I had absolutely no idea how to go about purchasing speakers, microphones, DVD players, or switchboards. We went to the cheapest and biggest bazaar in the area -- a huge expanse of booths selling everything from vodka to folding chairs to cardigans to toilet paper that was swarming with Kyrgyz, Uzbek, Russian, and Tajik buyers and sellers. At one point, I found myself in such a crush of people that I was literally carried about 15 feet by the masses before I found a way to release myself. Eventually, though, we made it to the back of the bazaar where all of the electronics are sold.
Like any good bargainer, my counterpart's husband made us go to every single speaker hawker in the bazaar (he's a bit of an electronics guru, which came in infinitely handy this day). This was made slightly complicated because of the fact that they are both these hugely tall Russians and I am this strange-looking redheaded person wearing a lime green fleece -- and therefore prime candidates for being ripped off. My counterpart told me not to speak English for this reason...but since they are Russian speakers and I know only Kyrgyz, our interactions probably looked kind of funny. First the big Russian guy goes up to the seller and surveys the merchandise. Then he talks to his equally tall wife in Russian, who then speaks to the redheaded girl in Kyrgyz. Anyway, the errand I thought might take an hour ended up taking three and a half...but we left with two big, beautiful 9000W speaker, two microphones, and an awesome new DVD player (which, to my director's relief, wasn't Chinese -- Kyrgyz people are very suspicious of Chinese manufactured items, since the stuff that makes it to Kyrgyzstan from China is usually complete crap, the stuff other countries didn't want). We presented them to the school the next morning -- which was an especially nice moment of appreciation for me. And I've scored major points with all the boys at school, who -- like their American counterparts -- are total technophiles. Can't wait for our Christmas disco, when the strength of the speakers will be tested by 50 the newest Enrique and Turkish techno music.
In other village news...earlier this week, I was walking through my village and noticed several new bright red banners hanging from formerly abandoned buildings. At first, I thought these might be some sort of holiday decoration...but then soon read the nationalistic slogans hanging beneath them and remembered that elections are coming up in a couple of weeks. President Bakiyev dissolved the Kyrgyz Parliament earlier this fall, after it failed to draft the new constitution in time. He then summarily started his own political party -- Ak Jol ("White Way" -- a reference to a moral, upright way of life, not a KKK-esque message) -- which is literally painting villages and cities red with its distinctive banners. Not to be outdone, though, a few of the opposition parties have also set up political offices in my village...including the Socialists. So I'm living in a technically democratic country which is currently in a state of political deadlock between the increasingly heavy-handed president and the increasingly vocal opposition (which includes the good-ole-Lenin-loving Socialists). This is kind of funny to me, since the only thing that's really changed in my village in the recent months has been the price of food necessities (flour prices have doubled -- and in a bread-loving culture like this one, that's been really hard on most families, especially those with lots of hungry children at home).
Also -- funny thing of the week: My kids came into class the other day and asked me what "Pimp My Ride" means (thank you, MTV, you globalizer, you). So I first had to explain what a 'pimp' was (I said that it was a person who organizes whores, which set them to giggles...the Kyrgyz word for 'whore,' by the way, also means 'to lick'). Then I explained that it can also refer to a girl or boy who is found very attractive by the opposite sex. So I had kids going around saying "I'm a pimp!" for the rest of the day. And it was awesome.
Like any good bargainer, my counterpart's husband made us go to every single speaker hawker in the bazaar (he's a bit of an electronics guru, which came in infinitely handy this day). This was made slightly complicated because of the fact that they are both these hugely tall Russians and I am this strange-looking redheaded person wearing a lime green fleece -- and therefore prime candidates for being ripped off. My counterpart told me not to speak English for this reason...but since they are Russian speakers and I know only Kyrgyz, our interactions probably looked kind of funny. First the big Russian guy goes up to the seller and surveys the merchandise. Then he talks to his equally tall wife in Russian, who then speaks to the redheaded girl in Kyrgyz. Anyway, the errand I thought might take an hour ended up taking three and a half...but we left with two big, beautiful 9000W speaker, two microphones, and an awesome new DVD player (which, to my director's relief, wasn't Chinese -- Kyrgyz people are very suspicious of Chinese manufactured items, since the stuff that makes it to Kyrgyzstan from China is usually complete crap, the stuff other countries didn't want). We presented them to the school the next morning -- which was an especially nice moment of appreciation for me. And I've scored major points with all the boys at school, who -- like their American counterparts -- are total technophiles. Can't wait for our Christmas disco, when the strength of the speakers will be tested by 50 the newest Enrique and Turkish techno music.
In other village news...earlier this week, I was walking through my village and noticed several new bright red banners hanging from formerly abandoned buildings. At first, I thought these might be some sort of holiday decoration...but then soon read the nationalistic slogans hanging beneath them and remembered that elections are coming up in a couple of weeks. President Bakiyev dissolved the Kyrgyz Parliament earlier this fall, after it failed to draft the new constitution in time. He then summarily started his own political party -- Ak Jol ("White Way" -- a reference to a moral, upright way of life, not a KKK-esque message) -- which is literally painting villages and cities red with its distinctive banners. Not to be outdone, though, a few of the opposition parties have also set up political offices in my village...including the Socialists. So I'm living in a technically democratic country which is currently in a state of political deadlock between the increasingly heavy-handed president and the increasingly vocal opposition (which includes the good-ole-Lenin-loving Socialists). This is kind of funny to me, since the only thing that's really changed in my village in the recent months has been the price of food necessities (flour prices have doubled -- and in a bread-loving culture like this one, that's been really hard on most families, especially those with lots of hungry children at home).
Also -- funny thing of the week: My kids came into class the other day and asked me what "Pimp My Ride" means (thank you, MTV, you globalizer, you). So I first had to explain what a 'pimp' was (I said that it was a person who organizes whores, which set them to giggles...the Kyrgyz word for 'whore,' by the way, also means 'to lick'). Then I explained that it can also refer to a girl or boy who is found very attractive by the opposite sex. So I had kids going around saying "I'm a pimp!" for the rest of the day. And it was awesome.
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving – my favorite holiday – is nearly here again. I love the simplicity of it – that all you have to do to celebrate it is gather with your loved ones and eat a lot of food (this part I have begun to appreciate more over the past couple of years, especially once I realized that turkey is, in fact, delicious). You’re basically just celebrating being part of this earth – and giving thanks that you get to do it with people you love.
Life over here in the Kyrgyz Republic has been more difficult lately. I’ve heard older volunteers say that, perhaps besides the first month at site, this is the toughest part of Peace Corps service. I’ve been here long enough to hone my language skills and cultural understanding; I can conduct decent lessons and get kids to behave; I know where to find good pizza, omelets, and Kyrgyz specialties like pumpkin samosas and lagman. I’m not a complete retard anymore, which is (obviously) a good thing…but I’ve also reached a point where, although I recognize and (for the most part) respect the culture in which I’m living, I understand that I will never be a real part of it. I’m like Long Duck Dong in Sixteen Candles. I am still welcomed, yes, but usually relegated to a corner after initial greetings. That, or am peppered with questions that seem to be getting increasingly personal (revolving around my love life [and how they can affect it] and salary [and why I’m taking Kyrgyz people’s jobs – which, I might add, I most certainly am not]). And, on most days, I don’t mind satisfying their curiosity. I know how much of an oddity I am…and to be perfectly honest, they all seem to me like delightful oddities themselves. But, after a while, it just wears me down, especially after a long day teaching in a cold classroom to rambunctious teenagers and dealing with progressively annoying school administrators. I have a newly deep respect for the immigrant – that person who chooses to leave home and try to make a permanent new one somewhere else. It’s hard to adapt, no matter how much you like your new culture. Old habits and customs die hard.
But, this is a holiday, after all, of giving thanks, of remembering that things aren’t really as bad as you might let yourself think. So I’m going to be cheesy for a moment and recant all the things that I have to be thankful for in this place.
I’m thankful for coffee, that warm, bitter beverage that helps me greet the day – something that becomes even more necessary when the sun doesn’t decide to come up until I’m supposed to be on my way to school. Also, thanks to Starbucks for not being completely serious when they say that you should use coffee by a certain date; I’m drinking stuff that I was supposed to consume about 4 months ago and it still tastes alright to me.
I’m thankful that donkeys can reproduce, because baby donkeys are oddly adorable.
I’m thankful that teenagers around the world are pretty much the same cocky but insecure creatures the world over. This means that I can have a lot of fun in the classroom, that it’s ok if I laugh at my students when they do dumb stuff because they laugh at me when I do dumb stuff, too. And I often milk this dynamic to get them interested in lessons. All I have to do is give an example about a boy liking a girl or explain some of the finer points of 50 Cent or Justin Timberlake’s lyrics and am sure to get a laugh out of them. This is especially helpful when I find myself reviewing the same grammar point again and again (Honestly, I get that things like articles are difficult to grasp because your native language doesn’t have them, but how hard is it to remember that simple present tense verbs need an ‘s’ on the end for 3rd person singular? Or that the past tense of ‘sleep’ is not ‘sleeped’?)
I’m thankful for packages and letters, for those little tangible bits of home that the global postal service manages to cart halfway around the world for me. I’m particularly glad about a recent discovery I made about the nature of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese: you don’t actually have to boil the noodles, you can just pour boiling water into a mug and let the noodles sit for a while; and as long as you eat it immediately, you don’t even need milk or butter for the cheese sauce. These findings have greatly improved the quality of my lunches this week.
I’m thankful that I sometimes get out of school for the day for strange reasons, like, oh I don’t know, Russian Cosmonaut Day and Women’s Day…and for downright ridiculous reasons, like last week, when I discovered that my host mom had locked me inside the house with no chance of escape (my initial playing-hooky-esque excitement was soon dimmed by the silvery, persistent tingle no doubt caused by that blasted 3rd cup of coffee).
I’m thankful for those individuals responsible for the existence of things like Barf brand laundry detergent, t-shirts that proclaim “Just Pukedd” or “Sometimes Everyone Needs a Little Puta (which means ‘bitch’ in Spanish), and wall hangings which depict landscapes that look something like I’d imagine a Photoshop-addicted miniature golfer’s fantasy to be. Lots of gazebos, whimsical bridges, waterfalls, flower fields, and the occasional herd of cows crammed into the same 3’x4’ poster. Sightings of things like these never fail to bring a smile to my face.
I’m thankful that humans have a kind of gypsy wanderlust encoded into their DNA. Otherwise, why else would anyone want to leave the comfort of home to go anywhere at all?
Mostly, though, I’m thankful for those people who have supported me through this endeavor in Kyrgyzstan and all the endeavors before it. I’m pretty sure I’d have cracked by now if I didn’t have your support, whether through newsy emails, junk-food-filled packages, or way-to-go letters. You all rock so hard you could give Jimmy Page and Mick Jagger a run for their money. Take care of yourselves during this holiday season. I’ll miss each of you but look forward to that time – which isn’t so far away, actually – when we can celebrate things like Thanksgiving and Christmas together.
Terri
Life over here in the Kyrgyz Republic has been more difficult lately. I’ve heard older volunteers say that, perhaps besides the first month at site, this is the toughest part of Peace Corps service. I’ve been here long enough to hone my language skills and cultural understanding; I can conduct decent lessons and get kids to behave; I know where to find good pizza, omelets, and Kyrgyz specialties like pumpkin samosas and lagman. I’m not a complete retard anymore, which is (obviously) a good thing…but I’ve also reached a point where, although I recognize and (for the most part) respect the culture in which I’m living, I understand that I will never be a real part of it. I’m like Long Duck Dong in Sixteen Candles. I am still welcomed, yes, but usually relegated to a corner after initial greetings. That, or am peppered with questions that seem to be getting increasingly personal (revolving around my love life [and how they can affect it] and salary [and why I’m taking Kyrgyz people’s jobs – which, I might add, I most certainly am not]). And, on most days, I don’t mind satisfying their curiosity. I know how much of an oddity I am…and to be perfectly honest, they all seem to me like delightful oddities themselves. But, after a while, it just wears me down, especially after a long day teaching in a cold classroom to rambunctious teenagers and dealing with progressively annoying school administrators. I have a newly deep respect for the immigrant – that person who chooses to leave home and try to make a permanent new one somewhere else. It’s hard to adapt, no matter how much you like your new culture. Old habits and customs die hard.
But, this is a holiday, after all, of giving thanks, of remembering that things aren’t really as bad as you might let yourself think. So I’m going to be cheesy for a moment and recant all the things that I have to be thankful for in this place.
I’m thankful for coffee, that warm, bitter beverage that helps me greet the day – something that becomes even more necessary when the sun doesn’t decide to come up until I’m supposed to be on my way to school. Also, thanks to Starbucks for not being completely serious when they say that you should use coffee by a certain date; I’m drinking stuff that I was supposed to consume about 4 months ago and it still tastes alright to me.
I’m thankful that donkeys can reproduce, because baby donkeys are oddly adorable.
I’m thankful that teenagers around the world are pretty much the same cocky but insecure creatures the world over. This means that I can have a lot of fun in the classroom, that it’s ok if I laugh at my students when they do dumb stuff because they laugh at me when I do dumb stuff, too. And I often milk this dynamic to get them interested in lessons. All I have to do is give an example about a boy liking a girl or explain some of the finer points of 50 Cent or Justin Timberlake’s lyrics and am sure to get a laugh out of them. This is especially helpful when I find myself reviewing the same grammar point again and again (Honestly, I get that things like articles are difficult to grasp because your native language doesn’t have them, but how hard is it to remember that simple present tense verbs need an ‘s’ on the end for 3rd person singular? Or that the past tense of ‘sleep’ is not ‘sleeped’?)
I’m thankful for packages and letters, for those little tangible bits of home that the global postal service manages to cart halfway around the world for me. I’m particularly glad about a recent discovery I made about the nature of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese: you don’t actually have to boil the noodles, you can just pour boiling water into a mug and let the noodles sit for a while; and as long as you eat it immediately, you don’t even need milk or butter for the cheese sauce. These findings have greatly improved the quality of my lunches this week.
I’m thankful that I sometimes get out of school for the day for strange reasons, like, oh I don’t know, Russian Cosmonaut Day and Women’s Day…and for downright ridiculous reasons, like last week, when I discovered that my host mom had locked me inside the house with no chance of escape (my initial playing-hooky-esque excitement was soon dimmed by the silvery, persistent tingle no doubt caused by that blasted 3rd cup of coffee).
I’m thankful for those individuals responsible for the existence of things like Barf brand laundry detergent, t-shirts that proclaim “Just Pukedd” or “Sometimes Everyone Needs a Little Puta (which means ‘bitch’ in Spanish), and wall hangings which depict landscapes that look something like I’d imagine a Photoshop-addicted miniature golfer’s fantasy to be. Lots of gazebos, whimsical bridges, waterfalls, flower fields, and the occasional herd of cows crammed into the same 3’x4’ poster. Sightings of things like these never fail to bring a smile to my face.
I’m thankful that humans have a kind of gypsy wanderlust encoded into their DNA. Otherwise, why else would anyone want to leave the comfort of home to go anywhere at all?
Mostly, though, I’m thankful for those people who have supported me through this endeavor in Kyrgyzstan and all the endeavors before it. I’m pretty sure I’d have cracked by now if I didn’t have your support, whether through newsy emails, junk-food-filled packages, or way-to-go letters. You all rock so hard you could give Jimmy Page and Mick Jagger a run for their money. Take care of yourselves during this holiday season. I’ll miss each of you but look forward to that time – which isn’t so far away, actually – when we can celebrate things like Thanksgiving and Christmas together.
Terri
10 November 2007
Halloween, Snow, Etc.
I'm in Bishkek for the weekend, trying to get plane tickets and visas worked out for my trip to India in January (Mumbai, Goa, and the southern Interior are on the current agenda). So my plane was delayed four hours yesterday, which I initially attributed to the general malaise that occasionally affects Kyrgyz public transport. A couple hours later, however, I found out that our plane was grounded because, even though it was 65 degrees and sunny in Osh, it was pouring down snow in Bishkek. When we finally landed, there were maybe 5 or 6 inches of the white stuff on the ground! I hadn't counted on winter coming for a few more weeks, so I was thrown for a bit of a loop.
Anyway, I've been pretty busy the past couple of weeks with the end of the first school quarter and then our fall break. At the end of October, I held my second (and last -- thank God...haha) Halloween party for my kids. My head nearly exploded because of grand event, as we lost our (reserved) location about 45 minutes before the party was to begin then were unable to locate a DVD player so we could have music then couldn't find any non-Turkish-techno CDs and, finally, had a mild riot when the ghetto-ly constructed pinata burst after one swing and candy went everywhere. But, as often happens, the anxiety brewed in the time prior to the event completely evaporated once the damn thing got started. I split my time during the disco dancing with my kids (in that slightly awkward teacher-getting-down-but-not-getting-scandalous-with-her-students way) and standing in the corner being a responsible chaperone and laughing to myself at the high school antics that occur during every school dance that has been or ever will be held for high school students. We had the initial gender-separated dancing circles which were eventually mixed when a couple of brave boys started teasing their female classmates; the group of too-cool-to-dance-so-goof-off-behind-the-stage boys; and the 'after hours' dancing done by the student council member who were helping me clean up. I think that, all in all, a good time was had by all...and I've got a request for a Christmas disco in December.
Anyway, I've been pretty busy the past couple of weeks with the end of the first school quarter and then our fall break. At the end of October, I held my second (and last -- thank God...haha) Halloween party for my kids. My head nearly exploded because of grand event, as we lost our (reserved) location about 45 minutes before the party was to begin then were unable to locate a DVD player so we could have music then couldn't find any non-Turkish-techno CDs and, finally, had a mild riot when the ghetto-ly constructed pinata burst after one swing and candy went everywhere. But, as often happens, the anxiety brewed in the time prior to the event completely evaporated once the damn thing got started. I split my time during the disco dancing with my kids (in that slightly awkward teacher-getting-down-but-not-getting-scandalous-with-her-students way) and standing in the corner being a responsible chaperone and laughing to myself at the high school antics that occur during every school dance that has been or ever will be held for high school students. We had the initial gender-separated dancing circles which were eventually mixed when a couple of brave boys started teasing their female classmates; the group of too-cool-to-dance-so-goof-off-behind-the-stage boys; and the 'after hours' dancing done by the student council member who were helping me clean up. I think that, all in all, a good time was had by all...and I've got a request for a Christmas disco in December.
24 October 2007
Wedding bells (well, not really, thank God)
I found out last week that I'm worth 100,000 som and several cows. That's maybe $3,000 plus cows, which doesn't sound like a lot to my American currency-based-mind, but -- I'm pretty sure -- is a pretty tidy sum in Kyrgyzstan. The average teacher, for example, makes 2,000 som a month; a doctor makes maybe 3,500 som. So I'm guessing that, should I decide to take this particular offer for marriage, I would be purchased on credit. I could then sell my story to MasterCard with something like:
Bride price: 100,000 som
Herd of cows: 50,000 som
Wedding dress: 1,000 som
Fluorescent-colored ribbon to wrap around various rented Mercedes: 100 som
200 bottles of vodka: 800 som
Vaguely talented singing DJ: 500 som
Wedding of the year in a Kyrgyz village: Priceless.
Bride price: 100,000 som
Herd of cows: 50,000 som
Wedding dress: 1,000 som
Fluorescent-colored ribbon to wrap around various rented Mercedes: 100 som
200 bottles of vodka: 800 som
Vaguely talented singing DJ: 500 som
Wedding of the year in a Kyrgyz village: Priceless.
12 October 2007
Soap Operas and Ramadan
So I'm currently listening to a Russian version of Coldplay's "Yellow" -- sung by a guy who sounds like a cross between Neil Young and maybe Bryan Adams, or that Italian pop singer Nek (who is way cooler than this guy currently singing) -- which is a nice background for this posting full of the random events of the week...
Today marks the end of Ramadan, the Muslim month of fasting during the daylight hours (plus of abstinence from sex, alcohol, cigarettes, and other vices). So, on my way to the city, I passed several flocks of white-kalpak-ed old men (kalpaks are the Kyrgyz traditional male headwear -- a tall, angular wool hat with Kyrgyz squiggly designs on them and a tassel on top) who were on their way to various homes for guesting. Muslim tradition (at least in this part of the world) says tells the faithful to make up for all those days of not eating by stopping by seven houses for food and fellowship. Kind of a nice testament to the value of community in the Muslim tradition. I personally will kind of miss Ramadan, since it's virtually the only time of year that I can accurately predict what time my family and I will be having dinner -- at sundown, once the call to prayers begins. All other times of year, we have dinner at 5:30 one day and 9:30 the next, which can get annoying (especially on those days I'm at school til 3 or 4 and have tea and stale cookies from the school cafeteria for lunch).
Actually, though, now that I think about it, my family has been following another pattern of determining the evening schedule -- the Russian soap opera "Tatiyana's Day." Even though my Russian language skills currently consist of things like "Check, please," "I don't understand," and "Bitch, please," I can usually follow the show's ever-twisting plotlines, which usually seem to involve falling in love, questionable paternity, or both. My love for the show and its outrageousness was confirmed this week when, after missing a single episode, I found that the main character was pregnant (again) with her estranged lover's baby. Last time, they did a fast-forward-5-years bit to shake things up. This time, they made things interesting by having the new "slutty" girl on the show get paid off by Tatiyana to pretend to be pregnant at the same time so that she can take the baby and Tatiyana won't have to tell the guy. Scandal! This is especially fun to watch with my preschool-aged host siblings and uber-straight-laced host mother...since the little ones don't understand Russian, either, the family conversation goes something like this:
Ermek (4 year-old boy): Grandma, why did that man run over that woman with a car?
Grandma: [avoiding the real explanation that they woman was a huge whore who cheated on the guy, her husband, and broke his heart...which was a huge mistake given his history of violence] She told lies.
Ermek: Oh, ok. [Then proceeds to drive his own imaginary car into his cousin and, just for dramatic effect, crashes into the wall and enacts a lengthy death scene.]
Who says that family life is boring?
Today marks the end of Ramadan, the Muslim month of fasting during the daylight hours (plus of abstinence from sex, alcohol, cigarettes, and other vices). So, on my way to the city, I passed several flocks of white-kalpak-ed old men (kalpaks are the Kyrgyz traditional male headwear -- a tall, angular wool hat with Kyrgyz squiggly designs on them and a tassel on top) who were on their way to various homes for guesting. Muslim tradition (at least in this part of the world) says tells the faithful to make up for all those days of not eating by stopping by seven houses for food and fellowship. Kind of a nice testament to the value of community in the Muslim tradition. I personally will kind of miss Ramadan, since it's virtually the only time of year that I can accurately predict what time my family and I will be having dinner -- at sundown, once the call to prayers begins. All other times of year, we have dinner at 5:30 one day and 9:30 the next, which can get annoying (especially on those days I'm at school til 3 or 4 and have tea and stale cookies from the school cafeteria for lunch).
Actually, though, now that I think about it, my family has been following another pattern of determining the evening schedule -- the Russian soap opera "Tatiyana's Day." Even though my Russian language skills currently consist of things like "Check, please," "I don't understand," and "Bitch, please," I can usually follow the show's ever-twisting plotlines, which usually seem to involve falling in love, questionable paternity, or both. My love for the show and its outrageousness was confirmed this week when, after missing a single episode, I found that the main character was pregnant (again) with her estranged lover's baby. Last time, they did a fast-forward-5-years bit to shake things up. This time, they made things interesting by having the new "slutty" girl on the show get paid off by Tatiyana to pretend to be pregnant at the same time so that she can take the baby and Tatiyana won't have to tell the guy. Scandal! This is especially fun to watch with my preschool-aged host siblings and uber-straight-laced host mother...since the little ones don't understand Russian, either, the family conversation goes something like this:
Ermek (4 year-old boy): Grandma, why did that man run over that woman with a car?
Grandma: [avoiding the real explanation that they woman was a huge whore who cheated on the guy, her husband, and broke his heart...which was a huge mistake given his history of violence] She told lies.
Ermek: Oh, ok. [Then proceeds to drive his own imaginary car into his cousin and, just for dramatic effect, crashes into the wall and enacts a lengthy death scene.]
Who says that family life is boring?
29 September 2007
Adventures in Translating
So one of the nice things about being a teacher of English -- instead of, say, Chemistry or Algebra or History -- is that your students' mistakes can be funny to non-English teachers as well. I mean, "Oh man, you won't BELIEVE the silly thing my student did today -- he substituted X for Y in step 4 instead of 5 of the equation and got a TOTALLY bogus answer!" or "Wow, Susie did the funniest thing today...she said that William Jennings Bryan was all for the gold standard -- not the silver! Hahaha" -- those things just aren't as funny to thought outside professional circles (actually, they aren't really that funny within professional circles either...).
But foreign-language teaching -- there's a discipline that provides plenty of fodder for hilarity. And my students have not disappointed me thus far into the quarter. Some of my favorite flub-ups:
* During an 'introduce yourself' activity:
One of my older girls writing about the most interesting thing about her: "I am a black man."
* While practicing past tense, another student wrote the following about what he did yesterday:
" I went to the bazaar. I drank Coca-Cola. I did my sister. I ate dinner." (This one made me laugh so hard I had to excuse myself from class)
Part of the reason that these are so funny to me, of course, is that I've made much more embarressing linguistic mistakes of my own over the past 14 months. Last fall, for example, I realized that what I'd thought was the word for "pig" was actually the word for "little boy's penis" -- and finally understood why my classes would erupt in laughter every time we did a lesson on farm animals. I've also asked cab drivers to "please give me a sugar cube" instead of querying whether they can take me to a city named Kant. I've called trees "shits" and asked whether a dish was made of house meat. As a result, I'm now a little humbler and a whole lot more forgiving of others' language mistakes. But that doesn't mean that I can't laugh at my students, too.
But foreign-language teaching -- there's a discipline that provides plenty of fodder for hilarity. And my students have not disappointed me thus far into the quarter. Some of my favorite flub-ups:
* During an 'introduce yourself' activity:
One of my older girls writing about the most interesting thing about her: "I am a black man."
* While practicing past tense, another student wrote the following about what he did yesterday:
" I went to the bazaar. I drank Coca-Cola. I did my sister. I ate dinner." (This one made me laugh so hard I had to excuse myself from class)
Part of the reason that these are so funny to me, of course, is that I've made much more embarressing linguistic mistakes of my own over the past 14 months. Last fall, for example, I realized that what I'd thought was the word for "pig" was actually the word for "little boy's penis" -- and finally understood why my classes would erupt in laughter every time we did a lesson on farm animals. I've also asked cab drivers to "please give me a sugar cube" instead of querying whether they can take me to a city named Kant. I've called trees "shits" and asked whether a dish was made of house meat. As a result, I'm now a little humbler and a whole lot more forgiving of others' language mistakes. But that doesn't mean that I can't laugh at my students, too.
11 September 2007
Just Another (Manic) Monday
Random intro note: I just got my hair cut -- took like 5 inches off and feel like a new person. I managed to find a salon here with a guy who actually knows what he's doing (although he doesn't serve me chai lattes...or put conditioner in my hair...)
So anyway...I don't teach on Mondays, so was spending a leisurely morning yesterday prepping for the week's lessons and watching old episodes of the West Wing. At 9:30, I hear, "Miss Terri! Miss Terri!" and loud banging on my door. My apa had apparently told her to come get me from the house and tell me to go to school as quickly as I could. I have no idea why I"ve been called, so I frenetically pull on school-appropriate clothes and run out the door. On the way, I juggle thoughts of Apa getting sick, my vice principal dumping some new class on me, some random American coming (maybe from USAID or the like), or -- what seems most plausible at the time -- I've somehow gotten myself into trouble. But then I show up at school and see a 10th form girl and her mom waiting on a bench. Apparently I'd been summoned to give the girl the 3 minute English "entrance exam" (which, since being handed off to me, consists of extremely difficult things like "What is this? (while holding a book or pen)" and "Tell me about your family"), even though there was another English teacher at school that day who could've given it to her. I was a little ticked, and so rewarded myself when I got home with another cup of coffee and 3 additional episodes of West Wing.
So anyway...I don't teach on Mondays, so was spending a leisurely morning yesterday prepping for the week's lessons and watching old episodes of the West Wing. At 9:30, I hear, "Miss Terri! Miss Terri!" and loud banging on my door. My apa had apparently told her to come get me from the house and tell me to go to school as quickly as I could. I have no idea why I"ve been called, so I frenetically pull on school-appropriate clothes and run out the door. On the way, I juggle thoughts of Apa getting sick, my vice principal dumping some new class on me, some random American coming (maybe from USAID or the like), or -- what seems most plausible at the time -- I've somehow gotten myself into trouble. But then I show up at school and see a 10th form girl and her mom waiting on a bench. Apparently I'd been summoned to give the girl the 3 minute English "entrance exam" (which, since being handed off to me, consists of extremely difficult things like "What is this? (while holding a book or pen)" and "Tell me about your family"), even though there was another English teacher at school that day who could've given it to her. I was a little ticked, and so rewarded myself when I got home with another cup of coffee and 3 additional episodes of West Wing.
01 September 2007
Back to School
So today my school held its "First Bell" ceremony this morning, thus officially beginning the school year. Although I can't say that I'm quite ready to deal with apathetic students and surprise 7:30 am meetings, I couldn't help but get that hooray-school's-back! feeling that's hit me every August since that one in 1989 when my mom dressed me in my purple rainslicker and strapped on brand-new backpack and sent me off to kindergarten. Plus, this year, I wasn't the so-green-it's-almost-painful-to-watch new kid and so got to do fun things like rave about how much some of my boys have grown and laugh to myself about some pretty unfortunate new haircuts (the mullet never really went out of style here). It's nice to remember that I have a community here, even if it drives me batty sometimes.
28 August 2007
Postcard 3
Postcard 3: The Magical Walnut Forest
On Sunday, my family – all 12 of us, plus my host sister’s friend from Russia – took a day trip to Arslambob, a gem of a place nestled in the second largest walnut forest in the world. In the park are three waterfalls, huge mountains, lots of scenic outlooks, and, of course, lots of walnut trees. The Kyrgyz national television station uses footage of it in one of its look-at-how-beautiful-our-country-is television spots.
After a three hour long car trip (most of which I spent with a passed-out 4-year-old in my lap), we stopped at a pretty but unremarkable Soviet-era resort village. Underwhelmed, I remember thinking, “Right…so we’re here. There are some mountains and trees…and ooo! A disco!” After wandering around for a half-hour or so, though, my host dad called us over to a couple of ancient Jeep-like vehicles and tells us to get in. Apparently we were going on some sort of excursion…
The closest approximation that I can think of for what followed is something like a real-life Thunder Road, minus the seatbelts and reckless gangsters (for those of you from Tennessee, you’ll recognize this name as that of the 3-D attraction at Dollywood that simulates a wild ride down country roads in Prohibition-era America. Lots of jostling about in your seat with the occasional stomach-drop.). Our driver had a particular affinity for driving through streams of water whenever possible and ‘powering through’ steep banks (although his theatrics also necessitated that he stop and pour water over the overheated engine every 10 minutes or so). My 3 year-old host cousin performed quite an act of napping fortitude on the way – standing up, with her head and arms resting on my lap, she slept nearly the whole rough, bouncy way (even leaving a nice big spot of drool on my knee…).
Anyway, we eventually made it to the base of the hike to the 70-meter waterfall. To bolster our strength, we had fermented mare’s milk, hot tea, and fried bread first. Most of us – including the 3, 4, and 5 year olds – then began our ascent. The trail started out easily enough as a nice paved path. After about 5 minutes, though, the cement gave way to loose gravel and dirt. Kind of scary, actually, especially because, for most of the way, I was helping my 4-year-old host sister along. Hiking with a little girl is actually pretty fun because she got so excited so often – every 50 meters or so, she insisted on turning around and waving to her mom, who was about 100 meters behind us. I was quite proud of her for making it all the way up the increasingly steep hill.
After about an hour of hiking, we made it to the top. The view was spectacular; I was beginning to see why everyone raves about the place so much. And since the waterfall is considered a holy place, it is completely devoid of the tacky graffiti that covers many such sites in America and elsewhere. Just naturally beautiful.
Back at the base of the hill, we quenched our thirst with – what else? – hot tea. We then headed to the site of the other two waterfalls. This time, there wasn’t much of a hike at all, so my baby sister, pregnant sister, and bedazzled-high-heel-shod host mom could join us. And this place was freaking awesome. Two 30-meter waterfalls fell together in a pool at the base of the path, making a great place for wading and, of course, picture-taking. At one point, my host brother grabbed his 4 year-old daughter and sloshed into the middle of the pool so I could take their picture…the result was the definition of ‘Kodak moment’ (my sitemate dubbed it an ‘Anne Geddes wet dream’). Will try to post it later.
At the end of the day, I bought soft serve ice cream for everyone (how I’ve thanked my lucky stars this summer that Kyrgyzstan has soft serve…) and, after a pit stop for lagman (Kyrgyz spaghetti) at a café, we drove back home, exhausted but happy.
On Sunday, my family – all 12 of us, plus my host sister’s friend from Russia – took a day trip to Arslambob, a gem of a place nestled in the second largest walnut forest in the world. In the park are three waterfalls, huge mountains, lots of scenic outlooks, and, of course, lots of walnut trees. The Kyrgyz national television station uses footage of it in one of its look-at-how-beautiful-our-country-is television spots.
After a three hour long car trip (most of which I spent with a passed-out 4-year-old in my lap), we stopped at a pretty but unremarkable Soviet-era resort village. Underwhelmed, I remember thinking, “Right…so we’re here. There are some mountains and trees…and ooo! A disco!” After wandering around for a half-hour or so, though, my host dad called us over to a couple of ancient Jeep-like vehicles and tells us to get in. Apparently we were going on some sort of excursion…
The closest approximation that I can think of for what followed is something like a real-life Thunder Road, minus the seatbelts and reckless gangsters (for those of you from Tennessee, you’ll recognize this name as that of the 3-D attraction at Dollywood that simulates a wild ride down country roads in Prohibition-era America. Lots of jostling about in your seat with the occasional stomach-drop.). Our driver had a particular affinity for driving through streams of water whenever possible and ‘powering through’ steep banks (although his theatrics also necessitated that he stop and pour water over the overheated engine every 10 minutes or so). My 3 year-old host cousin performed quite an act of napping fortitude on the way – standing up, with her head and arms resting on my lap, she slept nearly the whole rough, bouncy way (even leaving a nice big spot of drool on my knee…).
Anyway, we eventually made it to the base of the hike to the 70-meter waterfall. To bolster our strength, we had fermented mare’s milk, hot tea, and fried bread first. Most of us – including the 3, 4, and 5 year olds – then began our ascent. The trail started out easily enough as a nice paved path. After about 5 minutes, though, the cement gave way to loose gravel and dirt. Kind of scary, actually, especially because, for most of the way, I was helping my 4-year-old host sister along. Hiking with a little girl is actually pretty fun because she got so excited so often – every 50 meters or so, she insisted on turning around and waving to her mom, who was about 100 meters behind us. I was quite proud of her for making it all the way up the increasingly steep hill.
After about an hour of hiking, we made it to the top. The view was spectacular; I was beginning to see why everyone raves about the place so much. And since the waterfall is considered a holy place, it is completely devoid of the tacky graffiti that covers many such sites in America and elsewhere. Just naturally beautiful.
Back at the base of the hill, we quenched our thirst with – what else? – hot tea. We then headed to the site of the other two waterfalls. This time, there wasn’t much of a hike at all, so my baby sister, pregnant sister, and bedazzled-high-heel-shod host mom could join us. And this place was freaking awesome. Two 30-meter waterfalls fell together in a pool at the base of the path, making a great place for wading and, of course, picture-taking. At one point, my host brother grabbed his 4 year-old daughter and sloshed into the middle of the pool so I could take their picture…the result was the definition of ‘Kodak moment’ (my sitemate dubbed it an ‘Anne Geddes wet dream’). Will try to post it later.
At the end of the day, I bought soft serve ice cream for everyone (how I’ve thanked my lucky stars this summer that Kyrgyzstan has soft serve…) and, after a pit stop for lagman (Kyrgyz spaghetti) at a café, we drove back home, exhausted but happy.
24 August 2007
Postcard 2
Postcard 2 -- Washing the Car
My host brother has just returned from a 5-month stint working in Russia and, to celebrate his success, has purchased a new car for the family. It's a brand-new Nissan with lovely things like air-conditioning, automatic gear-shift, automatic locks and windows, and a little sensor which tells you if you're about to back into something. In a land full of ancient Russian hunks of metal passed off as cars, this car is really something.
When Kyrgyz people get something new like a car or house or even a television, they invite their friends, family, and neighbors over to 'wash' the new item. This involves making enough food to feed a small army -- Kyrgyz specialities like ash (rice pilaf-esque dish with carrots and meat), boorsok (doughnut-like bits of fried bread), shorpo (can't say I'm a fan of this one -- a broth in which the newly-slaughtered sheep was boiled), and, since it's summer, a plethora of fruits and vegetables. And, of course, the requisite vodka to wash everything down. My host dad, who never drinks, got a little loopy and cornered me, insisting that I join him in a rather large shot. When I hesitated, he told me that I didn't need to worry about being shameful and drunk -- I could just sneak away and have a nice long nap. So he gave a toast to the car and we took our shots -- and, in typical Kyrgyz fashion, chased them with cucumbers. God bless new cars.
My host brother has just returned from a 5-month stint working in Russia and, to celebrate his success, has purchased a new car for the family. It's a brand-new Nissan with lovely things like air-conditioning, automatic gear-shift, automatic locks and windows, and a little sensor which tells you if you're about to back into something. In a land full of ancient Russian hunks of metal passed off as cars, this car is really something.
When Kyrgyz people get something new like a car or house or even a television, they invite their friends, family, and neighbors over to 'wash' the new item. This involves making enough food to feed a small army -- Kyrgyz specialities like ash (rice pilaf-esque dish with carrots and meat), boorsok (doughnut-like bits of fried bread), shorpo (can't say I'm a fan of this one -- a broth in which the newly-slaughtered sheep was boiled), and, since it's summer, a plethora of fruits and vegetables. And, of course, the requisite vodka to wash everything down. My host dad, who never drinks, got a little loopy and cornered me, insisting that I join him in a rather large shot. When I hesitated, he told me that I didn't need to worry about being shameful and drunk -- I could just sneak away and have a nice long nap. So he gave a toast to the car and we took our shots -- and, in typical Kyrgyz fashion, chased them with cucumbers. God bless new cars.
Postcard 1
Hi friends,
I've been crazy busy for the past month with trips and camps and family goings-on. I'm having trouble constructing it all into a cohesive narrative, so have decided to write a series of 'postcards' instead...
Postcard 1: Crowded beach at Lake Issyk-Kul
I helped out at a camp for Russian orphans in early August. We spent the mornings playing with the group of what might be the cutest kids in Central Asia (save my host siblings, of course) and the afternoons lazing around on the beach. Tough week...
Beaches, as we all know, are ideal spots for people watching. Issyk-Kul is the second biggest alpine lake in the world -- it has a slight salinity that means it never freezes (thus its name, which translates as "Hot Lake"). And come summer, it draws legions of sun-worshippers from Russia, China, and the rest of Central Asia. Generally conservative dress norms go flying out the window. Thongs are a particularly beloved swimwear choice; some choose to hike up their full-coverage bottoms so as to simulate the thong effect. Some beach-goers, however, continue to adhere to certain dress codes, even as they completely disregard others. My favorite example of this phenomenon involved portly middle-aged ladies frolicking about the beach in their bikinis -- and head-scarves.
Some other characters:
- Vendors wandering around the beach selling beer, cotton candy, chips, and smoked fish on sticks
- A so-tan-he's-burnt Russian we dubbed "Napoleon" who literally spent hours, chest puffed up and hands on hips, surveying his kingdom -- with a variety of Josephine-like figures by his side
- Naked children cavolling about
- Temporary tattoo artists, one of whom I, on a dare, contracted to put Monticello on my arm
- A very affectionate couple and their third-wheel friend, who occasionally amused himself by embracing his towel with naked-lady illustration
Life in this country just doesn't get old.
I've been crazy busy for the past month with trips and camps and family goings-on. I'm having trouble constructing it all into a cohesive narrative, so have decided to write a series of 'postcards' instead...
Postcard 1: Crowded beach at Lake Issyk-Kul
I helped out at a camp for Russian orphans in early August. We spent the mornings playing with the group of what might be the cutest kids in Central Asia (save my host siblings, of course) and the afternoons lazing around on the beach. Tough week...
Beaches, as we all know, are ideal spots for people watching. Issyk-Kul is the second biggest alpine lake in the world -- it has a slight salinity that means it never freezes (thus its name, which translates as "Hot Lake"). And come summer, it draws legions of sun-worshippers from Russia, China, and the rest of Central Asia. Generally conservative dress norms go flying out the window. Thongs are a particularly beloved swimwear choice; some choose to hike up their full-coverage bottoms so as to simulate the thong effect. Some beach-goers, however, continue to adhere to certain dress codes, even as they completely disregard others. My favorite example of this phenomenon involved portly middle-aged ladies frolicking about the beach in their bikinis -- and head-scarves.
Some other characters:
- Vendors wandering around the beach selling beer, cotton candy, chips, and smoked fish on sticks
- A so-tan-he's-burnt Russian we dubbed "Napoleon" who literally spent hours, chest puffed up and hands on hips, surveying his kingdom -- with a variety of Josephine-like figures by his side
- Naked children cavolling about
- Temporary tattoo artists, one of whom I, on a dare, contracted to put Monticello on my arm
- A very affectionate couple and their third-wheel friend, who occasionally amused himself by embracing his towel with naked-lady illustration
Life in this country just doesn't get old.
01 August 2007
Just Call Me Owen Wilson
Remember that movie Wedding Crashers? Well, I certainly did this past weekend, when I became a sort of Kyrgyz Wedding Crasher myself. It all started last week, when I was riding in a shared taxi with a woman who turned out to be my neighbor. After I figured out that she was telling me about her son’s upcoming wedding (and not that she wanted me to marry her son), I told her that, if she wanted, I would come. She kind of nodded at me and I figured that would be the last I would hear of it.
Flash forward to Sunday, when my parents tell me that they want to take me to this wedding. It’s that evening in Osh city, so around 7 pm we bade the kids and daughter-in-law adieu and set out. The wedding is at this giant cafe – basically a big courtyard and even bigger indoor dance hall, complete with neon lights and singing DJ. When we sat down, my parents abandoned me, leaving me by myself at a table full of our middle-aged neighbors (I knew one of their names). Nevertheless, as is typical at Kyrgyz social functions, we quickly became friendly after several rounds of vodka shots and dance breaks. And holy hell, do Kyrgyz people like to dance. ESPECIALLY the middle-aged ones. I had three nice grey-haired men as partners for most of the night. And it was so fun – no creepy old man vibes at all. Dancing Kyrgyz-style involves a lot of wrist flipping and feet kicking – imagine some sort of Bollywood/Riverdance hybrid. I was cracking up watching the crazy dancers – especially my host mom, who was spinning around the dance floor like one of those fairy godmothers from Cinderella. I kept waiting for her to sprout wings and start turning pumpkins into horse-drawn carriages.
At weddings, Kyrgyz people also give many, many toasts to the happy couple and their parents. The parents of the bride and groom went first – after their toast, they did this dance where they stand in a circle in the middle of the room and guests come up and stuff money in their shirts and pockets. Later, the parents give some of this money away to guests that they think are doing a particularly good job at dancing (I won 20 som, thankyouverymuch). I figured that since I barely knew the parents and had never met the bride or groom, I’d be excused from giving a toast. This, of course, was an erroneous assumption. When my table got up to give our group toast, I found myself being pushed toward the microphone. I decided to explain very quickly who I was (because, I mean, I clearly wasn’t just some random Kyrgyz person who showed up) and then give a short toast to the bride and groom. Unfortunately, I was cut off by the emcee before I could get to my actual toast. So, what the crowd of 300 heard from this random red-headed girl was:
“Hello, I am Teresa. I come from America. Today is a very happy day for me because it is my first Kyrgyz wedding. I congratulaaa---....”
Then the emcee grabbed the mike and launched into a short speech about how I had come all the way from America to teach their children and even learned how to sing Kyrgyz songs. I was mortified. And then, of course, various people came up to me to ‘speak English.’ At one point, the mother of the groom dragged me across the room to meet a guy who graduated from the English faculty at university two years ago. He turned out to be a really nice guy who spoke English fairly well. I’m sure we started some rumors about Teresa finally getting a Kyrgyz boyfriend. My host mom keeps asking me about him with things like, “Soooo, where was that boy from again? Does he work?” Sigh.
As dinner’s 7th course was finally served at 12:30 am, my host dad decided he’d had enough and that we should head home. As we drove through the dark valley home, I had this sense of belonging to this place – a feeling that doesn’t happen very often. I was the only American in a room full of partying Kyrgyz people and I had a fantastic time. If Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn ever decide to do “Wedding Crashers – Kyrgyzstan,” they should give me a call.
Flash forward to Sunday, when my parents tell me that they want to take me to this wedding. It’s that evening in Osh city, so around 7 pm we bade the kids and daughter-in-law adieu and set out. The wedding is at this giant cafe – basically a big courtyard and even bigger indoor dance hall, complete with neon lights and singing DJ. When we sat down, my parents abandoned me, leaving me by myself at a table full of our middle-aged neighbors (I knew one of their names). Nevertheless, as is typical at Kyrgyz social functions, we quickly became friendly after several rounds of vodka shots and dance breaks. And holy hell, do Kyrgyz people like to dance. ESPECIALLY the middle-aged ones. I had three nice grey-haired men as partners for most of the night. And it was so fun – no creepy old man vibes at all. Dancing Kyrgyz-style involves a lot of wrist flipping and feet kicking – imagine some sort of Bollywood/Riverdance hybrid. I was cracking up watching the crazy dancers – especially my host mom, who was spinning around the dance floor like one of those fairy godmothers from Cinderella. I kept waiting for her to sprout wings and start turning pumpkins into horse-drawn carriages.
At weddings, Kyrgyz people also give many, many toasts to the happy couple and their parents. The parents of the bride and groom went first – after their toast, they did this dance where they stand in a circle in the middle of the room and guests come up and stuff money in their shirts and pockets. Later, the parents give some of this money away to guests that they think are doing a particularly good job at dancing (I won 20 som, thankyouverymuch). I figured that since I barely knew the parents and had never met the bride or groom, I’d be excused from giving a toast. This, of course, was an erroneous assumption. When my table got up to give our group toast, I found myself being pushed toward the microphone. I decided to explain very quickly who I was (because, I mean, I clearly wasn’t just some random Kyrgyz person who showed up) and then give a short toast to the bride and groom. Unfortunately, I was cut off by the emcee before I could get to my actual toast. So, what the crowd of 300 heard from this random red-headed girl was:
“Hello, I am Teresa. I come from America. Today is a very happy day for me because it is my first Kyrgyz wedding. I congratulaaa---....”
Then the emcee grabbed the mike and launched into a short speech about how I had come all the way from America to teach their children and even learned how to sing Kyrgyz songs. I was mortified. And then, of course, various people came up to me to ‘speak English.’ At one point, the mother of the groom dragged me across the room to meet a guy who graduated from the English faculty at university two years ago. He turned out to be a really nice guy who spoke English fairly well. I’m sure we started some rumors about Teresa finally getting a Kyrgyz boyfriend. My host mom keeps asking me about him with things like, “Soooo, where was that boy from again? Does he work?” Sigh.
As dinner’s 7th course was finally served at 12:30 am, my host dad decided he’d had enough and that we should head home. As we drove through the dark valley home, I had this sense of belonging to this place – a feeling that doesn’t happen very often. I was the only American in a room full of partying Kyrgyz people and I had a fantastic time. If Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn ever decide to do “Wedding Crashers – Kyrgyzstan,” they should give me a call.
26 July 2007
Mother Russia
Usually I'm pretty good at entertaining myself...but some days, the crush of yet another day of nothing gets to me. Today is one of those days. I didn't mean to come check email today...but when the store near my house didn't have the chips I wanted, I figured I might as well hop in a passing car and go to Uzgen (which is 15 minutes away by car). Keep in mind that I could have walked 5 minutes down the street to another store in my village. And to entertain myself on the cab ride over, I took a 5 and a 10 som bill, faced the lady (Booboosara) on the 5 to the man (Kasim) on the 10, and made them make out.
So with my sanity flying out the window, I figure it's as good a time as any to talk about Russia. Most Kyrgyzstanis have a soft spot in their hearts for the former USSR -- economically, at least, things were better here with the support of the Soviet juggernaut. My host father, for example, has a digitized image of Putin as his cell phone screen saver. We watch Russian news nightly. In fact, two days ago, I watched a human interest story about Jeremy Irons and Dennis Hopper's Easy-Rider-esque motorcycle trek across Russia. I'm sitting there, listening to Irons politely asking a Russian peasant lady if he "might come into her house." The lady is aghast, looking for help from the Russian news cameraman and shouting, in Russian, "I don't understand!" I'm pretty sure that these two actors don't have the star power of, say, Bruce Willis or Jean Claude van Damme (the Russians LOVE van Damme)....so this poor lady probably had no idea who the leather-clad, English-speaking men were and even less idea why the hell they were bothering her. Let's hear it for cultural exchange!
So later in the news program, my interest was pricked again by coverage on the flooding in Britain. As I watched the water rush past quaint thatched houses and signs identifying the phenonemon as a "flood," I felt for the Brits, naturally...but was immediately reminded whose news I was watching when the program followed up the flood story with a story about how a province in Russia was able to avoid similar flooding with a state-of-the-art dam. The Cold War hasn't completely thawed...
Man. These chips are delicious. And I just received an invitation to teach at a university in Osh by a random pair of Uzbek people (the woman, surprisingly enough, spoke English quite well). The internet cafe is always an interesting experience.
Here's hoping that a trip to the pool in Osh will revive my mental state...
So with my sanity flying out the window, I figure it's as good a time as any to talk about Russia. Most Kyrgyzstanis have a soft spot in their hearts for the former USSR -- economically, at least, things were better here with the support of the Soviet juggernaut. My host father, for example, has a digitized image of Putin as his cell phone screen saver. We watch Russian news nightly. In fact, two days ago, I watched a human interest story about Jeremy Irons and Dennis Hopper's Easy-Rider-esque motorcycle trek across Russia. I'm sitting there, listening to Irons politely asking a Russian peasant lady if he "might come into her house." The lady is aghast, looking for help from the Russian news cameraman and shouting, in Russian, "I don't understand!" I'm pretty sure that these two actors don't have the star power of, say, Bruce Willis or Jean Claude van Damme (the Russians LOVE van Damme)....so this poor lady probably had no idea who the leather-clad, English-speaking men were and even less idea why the hell they were bothering her. Let's hear it for cultural exchange!
So later in the news program, my interest was pricked again by coverage on the flooding in Britain. As I watched the water rush past quaint thatched houses and signs identifying the phenonemon as a "flood," I felt for the Brits, naturally...but was immediately reminded whose news I was watching when the program followed up the flood story with a story about how a province in Russia was able to avoid similar flooding with a state-of-the-art dam. The Cold War hasn't completely thawed...
Man. These chips are delicious. And I just received an invitation to teach at a university in Osh by a random pair of Uzbek people (the woman, surprisingly enough, spoke English quite well). The internet cafe is always an interesting experience.
Here's hoping that a trip to the pool in Osh will revive my mental state...
22 July 2007
Let's Get Physical
I've been living in a madhouse for the past few weeks, as all adults (save my sister-in-law and me) fled to the health resort and a multitude of children (various cousins all) arrived. Remind me never to have more than three children. One day, we all went to the health resort for a Sunday afternoon....I thought the ride over was crowded, what with 3 adults, 3 children, 1 teenager, and a baby inside the VW Golf. That is, until the ride back, when we had 5 adults, 4 children, 1 teenager, 1 baby, and 1 unborn fetus crammed inside. Yikes.
My host mom returned (incidentally, the same day that all the extra kids left...coincidence? I think not.) this week, so things have been relatively normal. Except that she has a newfound love of exercise -- she's been doing aerobics and jogging in the mornings at the village stadium. This may not sound all that strange for those of you living in health-obsessed America, but here this is straight out of left field. The average Kyrgyz person (especially women running households and those working in the fields) expends a significant amount of energy simply living his/her daily life -- doing laundry by hand, fetching water, gardening, carrying big loads of stuff from the bazaar, and other such activities take their toll. As a result, the idea that you make yourself extra tired on purpose by exercising seems ludicrous. Runners get lots of quizzical looks and the occasional ferocious canine follower. So to hear my middle-aged, grandmother-to-four host mom go on and on about how she loves to lift weights and wants to drop at least 8 kgs (about 17 pounds) was pretty entertaining. To cap it all off, just as Apa finished her monologue, the kids started doing their versions of push-ups and crunches. The little boy's push-up was particularly awesome -- something like a cross between doing the worm and making a lewd gesture. I love my family.
My host mom returned (incidentally, the same day that all the extra kids left...coincidence? I think not.) this week, so things have been relatively normal. Except that she has a newfound love of exercise -- she's been doing aerobics and jogging in the mornings at the village stadium. This may not sound all that strange for those of you living in health-obsessed America, but here this is straight out of left field. The average Kyrgyz person (especially women running households and those working in the fields) expends a significant amount of energy simply living his/her daily life -- doing laundry by hand, fetching water, gardening, carrying big loads of stuff from the bazaar, and other such activities take their toll. As a result, the idea that you make yourself extra tired on purpose by exercising seems ludicrous. Runners get lots of quizzical looks and the occasional ferocious canine follower. So to hear my middle-aged, grandmother-to-four host mom go on and on about how she loves to lift weights and wants to drop at least 8 kgs (about 17 pounds) was pretty entertaining. To cap it all off, just as Apa finished her monologue, the kids started doing their versions of push-ups and crunches. The little boy's push-up was particularly awesome -- something like a cross between doing the worm and making a lewd gesture. I love my family.
27 June 2007
Summer lovin' (for showers and my fan)
It's hot in the South. Really hot. 110 degrees Farenheight hot. And when you're riding in a crowded shared taxi, sandwiched between plump ladies, fidget-y kids, and sprawled out men, it seems even hotter. I often catch myself giving small Kyrgyz kids the evil eye because they are allowed to run around in their underwear and splash in the canals without reprimand. The tiniest ones can even lose the underwear. Oh, to be young.
The soaring temperatures mean that my schedule is kind of strange. On the days I don't have anything particular to do (which happen pretty often now that school's out for the summer), it's something like this:
6:30-7:30 am: Wake up, make coffee (I'm currently enjoying the Tanzanian stuff given to me by my favorite new UVa med student), and listen to music whist dancing around in my underwear (and yes, I realize how cool this makes me...but don't pretend you don't do the exact same thing on occasion)
9 am: Venture outside, eat breakfast (usually something freshly-picked from the garden) with my family
10 am-1pm: Run errands before the heat renders me incapable of sustaining any physical activity.
1-7 pm: Sleep, pretend to read a book
7-11 pm: Join the living again, eat with the fam on the 'tapjan' (raised outdoor platform with cushions where we eat in the summer; men sit Indian-style and women side-saddle it), play with the little ones (our new favorite game: making shadow puppets on the wall), and -- if I'm really lucky -- take a 'sun shower' (a spigot attached to a tub of water which is heated outside by the sun). I've taken 3 showers in 4 days and am nearly delirious with happiness. Whoever said that cleanliness is next to godliness was on to something...
11-1 am: Read, watch movies, eventually fall asleep.
Repeat.
Yesterday afternoon, though, I took a major step in the battle against the heat by buying a big standing fan. I've been sitting in front of this marvel of modern invention for hours at a time and can feel my stamina returning. Bring it, summer.
The soaring temperatures mean that my schedule is kind of strange. On the days I don't have anything particular to do (which happen pretty often now that school's out for the summer), it's something like this:
6:30-7:30 am: Wake up, make coffee (I'm currently enjoying the Tanzanian stuff given to me by my favorite new UVa med student), and listen to music whist dancing around in my underwear (and yes, I realize how cool this makes me...but don't pretend you don't do the exact same thing on occasion)
9 am: Venture outside, eat breakfast (usually something freshly-picked from the garden) with my family
10 am-1pm: Run errands before the heat renders me incapable of sustaining any physical activity.
1-7 pm: Sleep, pretend to read a book
7-11 pm: Join the living again, eat with the fam on the 'tapjan' (raised outdoor platform with cushions where we eat in the summer; men sit Indian-style and women side-saddle it), play with the little ones (our new favorite game: making shadow puppets on the wall), and -- if I'm really lucky -- take a 'sun shower' (a spigot attached to a tub of water which is heated outside by the sun). I've taken 3 showers in 4 days and am nearly delirious with happiness. Whoever said that cleanliness is next to godliness was on to something...
11-1 am: Read, watch movies, eventually fall asleep.
Repeat.
Yesterday afternoon, though, I took a major step in the battle against the heat by buying a big standing fan. I've been sitting in front of this marvel of modern invention for hours at a time and can feel my stamina returning. Bring it, summer.
23 June 2007
Grant Info
So my grant has finally been processed by Peace Corps (hooray!), which means that it's time to ask you guys to help me out. Anything you are able to contribute will be very much appreciated -- even $10 or $20 will go a long way. Here's a brief description of the project:
Having a large, useable space is an invaluable resource for a school. Students, teachers, and administrators can meet comfortably as large groups and, as a result, make the school more than a just place for lessons. At present, the Gymnasium has no such space. Its main building is a converted dormitory; half of it is still used to house students from other villages. Although these converted rooms serve well as classrooms for groups of 15-20 students, they are not conducive to larger group meetings. A large space – the club building – exists but is currently in poor condition and, as a result, only used for student holiday celebrations. Once renovated, the club will used for a variety of purposes. Students will be able to gather there for multiple extra-curricular activities, from student parliament to dance club to holiday celebrations. Teachers will be able to use the space for meetings and training sessions. Administrators will be able to use the space for regional meetings and seminars it gives as a professional development center. The school will be better equipped both to host larger numbers of people for already-planned seminars and more future groups, such as government officials, school commissions, and local teacher organizations. Instructions for donating:
Just go to http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.volproj and scroll down to projects for the Kyrgyz Republic. My project is listed as "Kurshab Gymnasium Renovation" with my name next to it. Click on the link, which will take you to a project description and will give you instructions for donating online. If you aren't comfortable donating online, just let me know and I'll give you a different set of instructions. All donations are tax-deductible. If you have any questions about the project (even if you want to see the budget or timeline), don't hesitate to contact me. Also PLEASE send me an email if you are able to give. I'd like to be able to send you a proper thank you (you might even get a note from one of my students, which are always entertaining).
Hope everyone is enjoying the summer!
Terri
Having a large, useable space is an invaluable resource for a school. Students, teachers, and administrators can meet comfortably as large groups and, as a result, make the school more than a just place for lessons. At present, the Gymnasium has no such space. Its main building is a converted dormitory; half of it is still used to house students from other villages. Although these converted rooms serve well as classrooms for groups of 15-20 students, they are not conducive to larger group meetings. A large space – the club building – exists but is currently in poor condition and, as a result, only used for student holiday celebrations. Once renovated, the club will used for a variety of purposes. Students will be able to gather there for multiple extra-curricular activities, from student parliament to dance club to holiday celebrations. Teachers will be able to use the space for meetings and training sessions. Administrators will be able to use the space for regional meetings and seminars it gives as a professional development center. The school will be better equipped both to host larger numbers of people for already-planned seminars and more future groups, such as government officials, school commissions, and local teacher organizations. Instructions for donating:
Just go to http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.volproj and scroll down to projects for the Kyrgyz Republic. My project is listed as "Kurshab Gymnasium Renovation" with my name next to it. Click on the link, which will take you to a project description and will give you instructions for donating online. If you aren't comfortable donating online, just let me know and I'll give you a different set of instructions. All donations are tax-deductible. If you have any questions about the project (even if you want to see the budget or timeline), don't hesitate to contact me. Also PLEASE send me an email if you are able to give. I'd like to be able to send you a proper thank you (you might even get a note from one of my students, which are always entertaining).
Hope everyone is enjoying the summer!
Terri
Settling Back In
I've been back in country for a week now...gradually getting used to the Kyrgyz pace of life again. Before I got back to site, I visited some friends in Issyk-Kul (the giant lake in the northeast). Not sure if they were happier to see me or the Jack Daniels I brought, but we had a great time. The day before I left, we went to a resort area called Jeti Ogyz ("Seven Bulls"). Jeti Ogyz is pretty famous around here, not only for its natural beauty but also for being the site of Yeltsin's first meeting with Akaev (K-stan's 1st president) post-Kyrgyz independence. There, huge red rocks thrust themselves from the ground -- pretty striking, really. I suppose they kind of look like bulls, especially if you think Cubism and deconstructionist art instead of "big animals with horns." The coolest rock formation -- the Cloven Heart -- is this giant red rock that looks like, well, a broken heart. Some serious seismic activity must have gone on to get that huge rock to stand vertically. Actually, something I didn't know about K-stan until I'd lived here for a while is how many earthquakes we have. This spring, we had probably 4-6 little ones in my village.
So after wandering around the slightly dilapidated resort area for a while, we went hiking up one of the adjacent hills. Two of us, however, didn't really think about what direction we were headed and ended up in a giant thorn patch, a-la-Brer-Rabbit. This was particularly unfortunate because we were wearing sandals and shorts. I'm still picking thorns out of my feet 3 days later. I eventually turned around once the prickly bushes reached my head. The view was pretty sweet, though. The day became an officially perfect Kyrgyz day when we heard the Akon classic "I Wanna F--- You" drifting through the valley to the mountain peaks.
I finally made it back to my site and was greeted by my exuberant host siblings (who, for fear that I am going to abandon them once again, refuse to leave me alone...yet I can't stay annoyed because they are just so darned cute). The two four-year-olds wowed me last night by reciting Manas (the Kyrgyz epic poem -- the longest of its kind in the world). And the baby has grown into a tiny person who can answer yes-or-no questions and toddler-run. Had yet another language flub-up yesterday when I told her, "Don't lick the wall!" -- I realized afterward that the phrase might mean something more like, "Don't be a whore!" (since the word for lick and whore are one and the same). Ah, well.
So after wandering around the slightly dilapidated resort area for a while, we went hiking up one of the adjacent hills. Two of us, however, didn't really think about what direction we were headed and ended up in a giant thorn patch, a-la-Brer-Rabbit. This was particularly unfortunate because we were wearing sandals and shorts. I'm still picking thorns out of my feet 3 days later. I eventually turned around once the prickly bushes reached my head. The view was pretty sweet, though. The day became an officially perfect Kyrgyz day when we heard the Akon classic "I Wanna F--- You" drifting through the valley to the mountain peaks.
I finally made it back to my site and was greeted by my exuberant host siblings (who, for fear that I am going to abandon them once again, refuse to leave me alone...yet I can't stay annoyed because they are just so darned cute). The two four-year-olds wowed me last night by reciting Manas (the Kyrgyz epic poem -- the longest of its kind in the world). And the baby has grown into a tiny person who can answer yes-or-no questions and toddler-run. Had yet another language flub-up yesterday when I told her, "Don't lick the wall!" -- I realized afterward that the phrase might mean something more like, "Don't be a whore!" (since the word for lick and whore are one and the same). Ah, well.
31 May 2007
Packing List for K15s
Ever since I moved to Kyrgyzstan, I've been composing a mental list of things that I wish I would have brought/am glad I actually remembered to pack and, since school's out for the summer, I thought I'd post it for any of you new kids combing the internet for info on K-stan, PC, and how the hell to fit your life into 2 suitcases and a backpack.
* USE YOUR 100 POUNDS! You're going to hate me when you're dragging all your crap halfway across the world (yes, you have to move it all yourself), but you'll be glad once you do get here (you can easily have people from home mail you stuff -- but sometimes the contents of packages are...'liberated' before they reach you...so if you really really want something, pack it.)
* For luggage, I'd say bring a big backpacking backpack and something with wheels. You might even want to practice to see if you can carry it all at once. And you'll want some sort of day bag to bring your books to language lessons during training and work once you're a real PCV. Girls will probably want a purse, too.
* Computer -- good for watching movies and TV (at site you sometimes have an abundance of free time), writing/reading emails (saved to a flash drive to cut down on internet cafe time), writing lesson plans and grants, etc etc. And since the power here can be kinda shotty (killed my iPod and computer chargers), it would be good to bring an external hard drive as well to back everything up. I probably wouldn't go out and buy a laptop if you haven't already got one (things get broken here pretty easily, although there are tech support places in the cities), but if you've got one, I'd definitely recommend bringing it along. FYI -- You can get power strips/surge protectors and computer speakers in Bishkek, so don't bother bringing them with you. But don't forget power adapters and converters!
* Clothes -- PC's gonna tell you to bring mostly business casual clothing for teaching/working at NGOs/PC meetings and training sessions. For guys this means khakis and a button-down...girls can get by with black pants/khakis or skirts and nice tops. You'll probably want one nicer outfit for official stuff (maybe a suit or nice jacket). It's freaking hot in the summer, so you'll probably find yourself relaxing the dress code a bit during training. You'll definitely be hanging out a lot with other PCVs, so you'll want casual stuff (this is especially true once you get to site). Girls have to be more conservative (e.g. no shorts that come up past your knees in public, no super low-cut tops, easy on the sleeveless stuff -- this is particularly true in the villages, less so in the city)...but don't think that you have to be covered from head to toe all the time. In general, I'd bring clothes that you are comfortable wearing. It's going to be hot when you arrive, so don't worry about bringing lots of sweaters with you (just have some shipped), although it would be good to a warm cardigan, sweatshirt, or pullover on hand. Come wintertime, you will definitely want some good-quality long johns. Think about layering strategies to get the most out of your packing space. Oh, and don't bring anything you can't hand wash! Or anything that you are worried about ruining (because, after 2 years, most things are a little worse for wear).
*Shoes -- bring some sandals like Rainbows, Tevas, or Reefs; you'll live in them during the summer. You'll want some practical shoes for work, naturally, and some running shoes, too. FYI: You aren't allowed to go hiking during training, so I'd probably have hiking boots mailed.
* Sleeping bag -- you'll want this 1. for warmth in the winter and 2. for weekend sleepovers at other PCVs' sites.
* Towel -- I totally forgot this item and was forced to use a dish towel for a month until my host family took pity on me and gave me 2 full-size towels for my birthday.
* Bring a few books to read and share...but don't go overboard. There's lots of sources for reading material (other PCVs, American Centers at universities). Use your packing weight for other stuff. Oh, and for the TEFLers, PC gives you tons of ESL teaching materials, so don't worry about bringing lots of that kind of stuff.
* Camera -- you'll want to document and share your experiences
*If you have a cell phone that can work with a SIMCard, bring it along if you like. If you don't have one, you can just pick one up when you get here (your language teacher will probably take you for a shopping trip to Bishkek within your first few weeks in country).
* Bring a couple of small presents for your host family -- maybe some American candy or stuff from your home state/university/city. Nothing too fancy or anything -- just a little something that, if nothing else, will give you something to do that first night when your language skills are exhausted after about 15 seconds and you have to resort to gesturing....at least you can dash away to your room at some point and return with shiny American stuff for your family to investigate. Along the same lines, bring photos of your family, friends, and hometown to share -- Kyrgyz people love love love looking at pictures. Showing pictures to my family that first night really helped me introduce myself, especially since I was jet-lagged, anxious/excited, and completely helpless in my language skills.
*Nalgene. You might also want to bring some Crystal Light or similar beverage powder to liven up your water.
* I'd probably bring a couple of travel-sized shampoo/conditioner bottles to refill, plus enough soap/shampoo/conditioner/face wash to get you through your first couple of months here (you probably won't want or have time to do lots of shopping during training). You can then either buy more in K-stan or have more shipped from home. Just don't go crazy with packing lots of toiletries. You can buy all kinds of stuff here -- soccer balls, socks, hats, scarves, earrings, shoes, toothpaste (Crest, Colgate are here), shampoo (Panteen and Dove are everywhere), soap, Q-tips, Kleenex, deodorant etc etc. Plus PC will give you things like dental floss, sunscreen, tampons/pads, any medicine you could ever want, vitamins, a water purifier. You will want to bring some baby wipes, though -- showers can be few and far between...
*Flashlight (great for late-night trips to the outhouse). The kind that don't require batteries are especially nice.
* Granola bars are nice to have on hand...especially as your stomach is getting used to the Kyrgyz diet.
* Playing cards or games like UNO are nice to have.
* Just so you know, you're going to receive a nice wad of cash when you get to Staging which you can either save and spend in K-stan or use for last-minute purchases.
* USE YOUR 100 POUNDS! You're going to hate me when you're dragging all your crap halfway across the world (yes, you have to move it all yourself), but you'll be glad once you do get here (you can easily have people from home mail you stuff -- but sometimes the contents of packages are...'liberated' before they reach you...so if you really really want something, pack it.)
* For luggage, I'd say bring a big backpacking backpack and something with wheels. You might even want to practice to see if you can carry it all at once. And you'll want some sort of day bag to bring your books to language lessons during training and work once you're a real PCV. Girls will probably want a purse, too.
* Computer -- good for watching movies and TV (at site you sometimes have an abundance of free time), writing/reading emails (saved to a flash drive to cut down on internet cafe time), writing lesson plans and grants, etc etc. And since the power here can be kinda shotty (killed my iPod and computer chargers), it would be good to bring an external hard drive as well to back everything up. I probably wouldn't go out and buy a laptop if you haven't already got one (things get broken here pretty easily, although there are tech support places in the cities), but if you've got one, I'd definitely recommend bringing it along. FYI -- You can get power strips/surge protectors and computer speakers in Bishkek, so don't bother bringing them with you. But don't forget power adapters and converters!
* Clothes -- PC's gonna tell you to bring mostly business casual clothing for teaching/working at NGOs/PC meetings and training sessions. For guys this means khakis and a button-down...girls can get by with black pants/khakis or skirts and nice tops. You'll probably want one nicer outfit for official stuff (maybe a suit or nice jacket). It's freaking hot in the summer, so you'll probably find yourself relaxing the dress code a bit during training. You'll definitely be hanging out a lot with other PCVs, so you'll want casual stuff (this is especially true once you get to site). Girls have to be more conservative (e.g. no shorts that come up past your knees in public, no super low-cut tops, easy on the sleeveless stuff -- this is particularly true in the villages, less so in the city)...but don't think that you have to be covered from head to toe all the time. In general, I'd bring clothes that you are comfortable wearing. It's going to be hot when you arrive, so don't worry about bringing lots of sweaters with you (just have some shipped), although it would be good to a warm cardigan, sweatshirt, or pullover on hand. Come wintertime, you will definitely want some good-quality long johns. Think about layering strategies to get the most out of your packing space. Oh, and don't bring anything you can't hand wash! Or anything that you are worried about ruining (because, after 2 years, most things are a little worse for wear).
*Shoes -- bring some sandals like Rainbows, Tevas, or Reefs; you'll live in them during the summer. You'll want some practical shoes for work, naturally, and some running shoes, too. FYI: You aren't allowed to go hiking during training, so I'd probably have hiking boots mailed.
* Bring sunglasses -- maybe it's me, but the sun seems harsher here.
* Sleeping bag -- you'll want this 1. for warmth in the winter and 2. for weekend sleepovers at other PCVs' sites.
* Towel -- I totally forgot this item and was forced to use a dish towel for a month until my host family took pity on me and gave me 2 full-size towels for my birthday.
* Bring a few books to read and share...but don't go overboard. There's lots of sources for reading material (other PCVs, American Centers at universities). Use your packing weight for other stuff. Oh, and for the TEFLers, PC gives you tons of ESL teaching materials, so don't worry about bringing lots of that kind of stuff.
* Camera -- you'll want to document and share your experiences
*If you have a cell phone that can work with a SIMCard, bring it along if you like. If you don't have one, you can just pick one up when you get here (your language teacher will probably take you for a shopping trip to Bishkek within your first few weeks in country).
* Bring a couple of small presents for your host family -- maybe some American candy or stuff from your home state/university/city. Nothing too fancy or anything -- just a little something that, if nothing else, will give you something to do that first night when your language skills are exhausted after about 15 seconds and you have to resort to gesturing....at least you can dash away to your room at some point and return with shiny American stuff for your family to investigate. Along the same lines, bring photos of your family, friends, and hometown to share -- Kyrgyz people love love love looking at pictures. Showing pictures to my family that first night really helped me introduce myself, especially since I was jet-lagged, anxious/excited, and completely helpless in my language skills.
*Nalgene. You might also want to bring some Crystal Light or similar beverage powder to liven up your water.
* I wear contacts and have not found any kind of solution for sale here -- so if you wear contacts (and lots of PCVs do), bring lots of solution!
* I'd probably bring a couple of travel-sized shampoo/conditioner bottles to refill, plus enough soap/shampoo/conditioner/face wash to get you through your first couple of months here (you probably won't want or have time to do lots of shopping during training). You can then either buy more in K-stan or have more shipped from home. Just don't go crazy with packing lots of toiletries. You can buy all kinds of stuff here -- soccer balls, socks, hats, scarves, earrings, shoes, toothpaste (Crest, Colgate are here), shampoo (Panteen and Dove are everywhere), soap, Q-tips, Kleenex, deodorant etc etc. Plus PC will give you things like dental floss, sunscreen, tampons/pads, any medicine you could ever want, vitamins, a water purifier. You will want to bring some baby wipes, though -- showers can be few and far between...
*Flashlight (great for late-night trips to the outhouse). The kind that don't require batteries are especially nice.
* Granola bars are nice to have on hand...especially as your stomach is getting used to the Kyrgyz diet.
* Playing cards or games like UNO are nice to have.
* Just so you know, you're going to receive a nice wad of cash when you get to Staging which you can either save and spend in K-stan or use for last-minute purchases.
30 May 2007
First post/Family daytrip
So I'm back in America for 2 weeks after spending the last 10 1/2 months in K-stan. Below is the last mass email I sent out a couple weeks ago.
The most prominent feature of Osh city's landscape is the craggy peak called Solomon's Throne. Long considered a holy place, it has been a place of pilgrimage for Muslims seeking healing or fertility. Daily, hundreds make the trek up the 760 stairs. Atop the rock sits a tiny mosque, originally built in 1497 by the 14-year-old newly-crowned king of Fergana Zahiruddin Babur (who would go on to found the Indian Mughal dynasty).
I've been meaning to make the hike since moving down here in September, but just never got around to it. Luckily, my host family decided to take me on a family day trip to Osh last weekend – the trek up Solomon's Throne being the day's main activity. When I'd imagined going up the mountain, however, I didn't exactly expect to do it with three children under the age of five in tow…or with my parents clad in nice suits (I have no idea how my apa made it up wearing back-less high-heeled sandals). But, having done it, I wouldn't have had it any other way. From holding the kids' hands and helping them up the steep stairs to admiring the spectacular view to smiling as my host dad explained to an incredulous Uzbek man that I was his 'daughter' (my favorite quote from that conversation was: "But where the hell did she learn Kyrgyz?"), the day was just fantastic.
After the hike, we ate at a Kyrgyz outdoor café and drank 'kymyz' (fermented mare's milk – tastes kind of like tart milk) with 'kyimak' (yet another fried bread incarnation). During this meal, my family was like, "Well, if you haven't climbed Solomon's Throne or gone to the three-story yurt or the museum, what have you done in Osh?" I felt a little sheepish, not wanting to say that I usually just pretend that I'm in America again, eating pizza and drinking beer with other Volunteers. In any case, I think that my family was really proud to show off their city to me (which, in my humble opinion, is the best urban space in the whole country). Kyrgyz people are very proud of their "beautiful nature;" in random conversations in taxis or mini-buses or the bazaar, the third or fourth question (after "Where are you from?" and "Are you married? No? Well, I've got a son…") is whether I like Kyrgyzstan and its nature, to which I reply, "Of course, especially in the South."
I'll leave you with the words of Sultan Babur (1483-1530), who described Osh in his memoirs:
Orchards follow the river on either bank, the trees overhanging the water.
Pretty violets grow in the gardens.
Osh has running water.
It is lovely there in the spring when the countless tulips and roses burst into blossom.
In the Fergana valley on town can match Osh for the fragrance and purity of the air
The most prominent feature of Osh city's landscape is the craggy peak called Solomon's Throne. Long considered a holy place, it has been a place of pilgrimage for Muslims seeking healing or fertility. Daily, hundreds make the trek up the 760 stairs. Atop the rock sits a tiny mosque, originally built in 1497 by the 14-year-old newly-crowned king of Fergana Zahiruddin Babur (who would go on to found the Indian Mughal dynasty).
I've been meaning to make the hike since moving down here in September, but just never got around to it. Luckily, my host family decided to take me on a family day trip to Osh last weekend – the trek up Solomon's Throne being the day's main activity. When I'd imagined going up the mountain, however, I didn't exactly expect to do it with three children under the age of five in tow…or with my parents clad in nice suits (I have no idea how my apa made it up wearing back-less high-heeled sandals). But, having done it, I wouldn't have had it any other way. From holding the kids' hands and helping them up the steep stairs to admiring the spectacular view to smiling as my host dad explained to an incredulous Uzbek man that I was his 'daughter' (my favorite quote from that conversation was: "But where the hell did she learn Kyrgyz?"), the day was just fantastic.
After the hike, we ate at a Kyrgyz outdoor café and drank 'kymyz' (fermented mare's milk – tastes kind of like tart milk) with 'kyimak' (yet another fried bread incarnation). During this meal, my family was like, "Well, if you haven't climbed Solomon's Throne or gone to the three-story yurt or the museum, what have you done in Osh?" I felt a little sheepish, not wanting to say that I usually just pretend that I'm in America again, eating pizza and drinking beer with other Volunteers. In any case, I think that my family was really proud to show off their city to me (which, in my humble opinion, is the best urban space in the whole country). Kyrgyz people are very proud of their "beautiful nature;" in random conversations in taxis or mini-buses or the bazaar, the third or fourth question (after "Where are you from?" and "Are you married? No? Well, I've got a son…") is whether I like Kyrgyzstan and its nature, to which I reply, "Of course, especially in the South."
I'll leave you with the words of Sultan Babur (1483-1530), who described Osh in his memoirs:
Orchards follow the river on either bank, the trees overhanging the water.
Pretty violets grow in the gardens.
Osh has running water.
It is lovely there in the spring when the countless tulips and roses burst into blossom.
In the Fergana valley on town can match Osh for the fragrance and purity of the air
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