As promised, here is my account of my two weeks in India, well chapter one of it anyway. I've struggled with how to organize the thing…do it in a logical, chronological, journal-like fashion? In a wacked-out-write-whatever-comes-to-mind way? In a set of themes, a la third grade textbook "History" "Culture" "Traditions" headings? In relation to my senses (for the place truly affected each and every one)?
After spending several days pondering this, I decided just to stop thinking and dive in. The cold – of which I wrote in my last email – has forced most of the schools in Kyrgyzstan to close their doors til February 5. So I've been curled up in my room, drinking hot beverages and reading books. Delicious hibernation. But I'm starting to go a little stir-crazy, so need to produce something of my own. Thus, the following…
As we were driving over the steppe of Kazakhstan to the airport in Almaty, one of my traveling companions mentioned that he wouldn't mind at all if we didn't see a single Russian in the coming weeks. This hope, unfortunately, turned out to be a silly one, as the entire population of Russia seems to have decided to travel southward for an Indian holiday. Forced by awkward flight schedules to spend our first night in India in the Delhi airport, we found sleeping to be next to impossible due to the presence of a boisterous (and intoxicated) group of Russians who not only were speaking their native tongue in levels inappropriate even for a fairly crowded airport…but had brought a book of Russian folk songs with them to pass the time. I felt like I was having some sort of very bad dream as I attempted sleep in the chilly, grey, halogen-lit room, balancing atop two cushion-less chairs, arms stuffed in my sweatshirt, and ears assaulted by the strains of Russian merry-making. Luckily, this gloomy state soon lifted with my plane to Mumbai, where our adventure begins.
The airport is approximately 20 kilometers from the tourist center of Mumbai. Thus, you might imagine that a mid-morning taxi might take you an hour or so. This would be a faulty assumption in this particular place, however. No stranger to aggressive taxi drivers, we groggily found our way into a fairly-enough-priced cab, our noses assaulted by the smells of diesel, flowers, and smog. Joyfully, we shrugged off our sweatshirts and jackets – the weather was miraculously warm. As our taxi driver pulled into the highway – a thoroughfare clogged with motorbikes, shiny new BMWS, old rusty cabs, three-wheeled rickshaws, and buses – one of my traveling partners leaned over and said, "Guys! We're about to enter some of the most dangerous traffic in the world!" Happy to be freed from our Peace Corps Kyrgyzstan chains, though, we all grinned mischievously and leaned back, ready to get our vacation started.
We checked into a cheap, clean hotel and decided to grab some lunch and take a walk round before the exhaustion from 30 sleepless hours set in. As we strolled down the street, all of our gazes were quickly averted. But not to the beautifully be-sari-ed women nor to the piles of fresh fruit nor to the architectural relics of the British imperialists. No, these Americans only had eyes for the Golden Arches. Kyrgyzstan, you see, lacks any sort of Western chain restaurant and, for the most part, all of its attempts at burgers and the like are woefully inadequate. So into McDonalds we strolled. But this was not your ordinary Mickey D's. Not a single beef product on the menu (Hindus, after all, regard our bovine friends as sacred and, thus, do not eat them). They did, to my delight, have Diet Coke and veggie burgers (a staple of mine from my days as a Wahoo) and, for the boys, many varieties of chicken burgers (including something called a Maharaja Mac). Not to mention the soft serve French fries and ketchup (which was in a self-serve pump with little cups). We all had seconds.
Ok, my writing energy has been expended for the time being. And, holy crap, I've only made it to lunchtime on Day 1. Promise more stories later...which will include, among others, our run-in with an eager Japanese tourist, riding in the krunkest rickshaw in Hampi and the bumpiest bus on the planet, and descriptions of food so delicious that it may be painful to write about it (seeing as I'll likely be going back to another potato-based meal right after).
Love, Terri
PS Temperatures are going up and the sun is shining. Woohoo! Oh, and the weather got so bad there for a while that most of the schools in Kstan CLOSED for 10 days! Getting lots of reading and hot-chocolate-drinking in.
PPS Another awkward Kstan moment: Went to the public banya (you rent it out for an hour) the other day...and somehow the wily proprietor circumvented the doorlock, came into the banya, and told my friend and me (in all our naked glory) not to use all the water. Water, I might add, that we were frigging PAYING FOR. Arghhh...but at least I'm clean!
01 February 2008
22 January 2008
Whiteout
As you all know, I just got back from India last week. I promise to write a eyelid-droopingly long email about that incredible, delicious, heartbreaking, mind-blowing place in the near future. But, for now, back to the life here in K-stan.
All of our travels went beautifully both to and from India. I was kind of shocked, actually, about how easy the trip turned out to be. Easy, that is, until I got back to Bishkek. I was still reeling from an 87-degree Farenheight temperature drop from balmy Mumbai and 36 hours of sleeplessness when I found out that all flights back to Osh had been cancelled. In fact, all the flights from the day before had been cancelled, too. Apparently, everyone who was supposed to have flown on January 16 or 17 was sitting in a hallway in the airport lit by a single lightbulb, grumpily waiting for the airplanes to start doing that magical thing they do called flying (if you think about it, even if you know all of the principles of aerodynamics, it's pretty freaking incredible that you can make a very heavy hunk of metal fly around in the air). Anyway, my friend and I decided that there was no way in hell we were sitting in the depressing Bishkek airport for an unknown amount of time, so we -- bravely? stupidly? -- hopped in a Southward-bound Jeep for a 12-hour drive through snowy mountain passes.
The ride, as it turned out, was pretty spectacular. Whiteout, I believe, is the phrase they use for the state of nature where everything in one's line of vision -- trees, mountains, lakes, roads, skies, rivers, cars, houses -- is white. And such a landscape accompanied us for the duration of our drive. Just incredible. The road had -- wonder of wonders -- actually been cleared and our driver seemed to know what he was doing, so we felt pretty safe. Oh, and the Kyrgyz people in the blessedly-warm car decided to let the two American kids have the captain's seats with all the leg room, so our ride might even be termed pleasant. Certainly more pleasant than that which was had by the dude who was relegated to the trunk.
So I'm back in my village, freezing my ass off. Bone-chilling cold that annoyingly necessitates multiple layers of clothing. Kyrgyz people are saying this is the worst winter in 50-odd years. It's below zero every single night and a few ticks above during the day. The rub, though, is the lack of central heating in houses and buildings...so I spend most of my time either curled up in my bed or desperately clutching my space heater. My classes at school have been cut to 30-minutes each because the heating system doesn't work. I hate to be a complainer, but this is pretty awful. Please, God, let that damn groundhog not see its shadow!
All of our travels went beautifully both to and from India. I was kind of shocked, actually, about how easy the trip turned out to be. Easy, that is, until I got back to Bishkek. I was still reeling from an 87-degree Farenheight temperature drop from balmy Mumbai and 36 hours of sleeplessness when I found out that all flights back to Osh had been cancelled. In fact, all the flights from the day before had been cancelled, too. Apparently, everyone who was supposed to have flown on January 16 or 17 was sitting in a hallway in the airport lit by a single lightbulb, grumpily waiting for the airplanes to start doing that magical thing they do called flying (if you think about it, even if you know all of the principles of aerodynamics, it's pretty freaking incredible that you can make a very heavy hunk of metal fly around in the air). Anyway, my friend and I decided that there was no way in hell we were sitting in the depressing Bishkek airport for an unknown amount of time, so we -- bravely? stupidly? -- hopped in a Southward-bound Jeep for a 12-hour drive through snowy mountain passes.
The ride, as it turned out, was pretty spectacular. Whiteout, I believe, is the phrase they use for the state of nature where everything in one's line of vision -- trees, mountains, lakes, roads, skies, rivers, cars, houses -- is white. And such a landscape accompanied us for the duration of our drive. Just incredible. The road had -- wonder of wonders -- actually been cleared and our driver seemed to know what he was doing, so we felt pretty safe. Oh, and the Kyrgyz people in the blessedly-warm car decided to let the two American kids have the captain's seats with all the leg room, so our ride might even be termed pleasant. Certainly more pleasant than that which was had by the dude who was relegated to the trunk.
So I'm back in my village, freezing my ass off. Bone-chilling cold that annoyingly necessitates multiple layers of clothing. Kyrgyz people are saying this is the worst winter in 50-odd years. It's below zero every single night and a few ticks above during the day. The rub, though, is the lack of central heating in houses and buildings...so I spend most of my time either curled up in my bed or desperately clutching my space heater. My classes at school have been cut to 30-minutes each because the heating system doesn't work. I hate to be a complainer, but this is pretty awful. Please, God, let that damn groundhog not see its shadow!
26 December 2007
I Got a Hero for Christmas
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
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
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.
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