More to say...

Well. IST went off without a hitch! Despite the socializing with my fellow volunteers that kept my attention pre-occupied into the wee hours of every morning I still somehow managed to set the revelries aside long enough to make it to every session that began promptly at the un-Godly hour of 8am. The first two days were honestly a bit worthless though because they were dedicated to counterpart training and my counterpart was unable to attend. However, at the end of the week I did receive a candy-bar for “best dressed volunteer”…how nice! We also got treated to the finest food the Issyk-Kul Hotel had to offer. Really, I’m not saying much here but considering the local alternatives it was truly the highlight of my stay:)
I took another language test and received an Intermediate High ranking. The rankings for US Government LPI’s (Language Proficiency Interview) go from Novice (low, mid, high) to Intermediate (low, mid, high) to Advanced (low, mid, high) to Superior then Fluent. Considering that coming out of PST my Kyrgyz language ability was at the Intermediate Low level I’m pretty pleased. At the rate I’m going I should be able to slaughter a sheep and eat it’s intestines with relish while communicating fluently in no time!! Actually, the best part about this new ranking is that I’m now allowed by Peace Corps to begin learning Russian. With that said I can receive Russian learning materials from Peace Corps for free and I might be able to come out of my time here having learnt two languages! Who says you have to be completely selfless to join The Peace Corps??
I had a hell of a time getting to IST though. My site-mate Patrick and I decided that it would be a safer option to go through Kazakhstan’s flat roads instead of the dreaded mountain-pass that is the Ala-Too option in Kyrgyzstan (see a previous blog post for a full explanation). We set out from our town at about 7:30am and reached the Kyrgyz-Kazakh boarder at about 9. Because Patrick served in Georgia before coming here they hassled him about his Georgian visa and tried to extract some well-earned som from his pocket. We both politely refused to be manipulated and were on our way to standing in line for an hour surrounded by CIS members that all conveniently don’t know how to stand in line at all (see a previous blog post for a full explanation). By the time we finally reached the bazaar in Taraz, Kazakhstan it was 11am. We promptly headed over to the bus-station (or Автоваксал, for those that care to be impressed with my new and improved language ability) where we found out the one available marshutka to Bishkek only had one seat available. Damn, we thought as we both sat down to have a beer and discuss. Luckily we got enough information from the lady selling Samsa’s that there was another one coming “azr” (see previous blog post for a full explanation). As we waited in the freezing cold for what turned out to be two hours we had a lively conversation involving nothing more than grunts and nods as we both have come to realize that if you don’t want people hassling you it is of utmost importance that you don’t appear to speak their language. Seeing as the Kazakh language has about as much difference from Kyrgyz as the Canadian language does the American, we both felt at ease with our mouths shut. Around 1pm another marshutka arrived and we both rushed forward to get to it, however as soon as I found a seat a very nice Russian girl who spoke flawless English asked if I had my ticket? No, I replied, I always just pay the driver. That is, after all, what allows the drivers in Kyrgyzstan to attempt to rip you off every chance they get. No no no, she replied with a twinkle in her eye. This is Kazakhstan, we actually have infrastructure in place to prevent such vile happenings! Oh, I said, I’m terribly sorry. Then Patrick and I gathered our belongings before heading over to get a taxi straight to Bishkek for an exorbitant price considering our meager Peace Corps monthly allowance and limited options at the time.
That’s where things got interesting. We negotiated with some local drivers for about 20 minutes before finally choosing a very nice vehicle that had two people waiting inside already. We were ready to have a lovely, flat and safe drive straight to Bishkek. That is until the driver took a hard left instead of staying straight to go to the boarder. Where are you going? Patrick and I managed with panicked looks on our previously frozen faces. Almaty (Алматы), is what the driver asserted after repeated questioning. Almaty is not only one of the sixth or seventh most expensive cities in the world, but it’s also about another four hours away from where we actually needed to be going. My language ability is (as previously stated) at an Intermediate High level. I’d like to think that I’d be able to understand the difference between Bishkek and Almaty in a sentence! Um, also, yeah, for those of you that question whether the pronunciation of these two cities is at all similar…no, it’s not. So as Patrick and I are half freaking out and half excited about the prospect of getting some good touring in what is supposed to be a gorgeous city, we finally figured out that he promised to take us to the boarder, not through the boarder. And, yes, to and through are actually very similar in Kyrgyz/Kazakh. They don’t say either one of those words but tack on a grammatical ending to the subject word to make their point. But that’s neither here nor there. What does matter is that when the guy took Patrick and I to the northern Kazakh-Kyrgyz boarder he was nice enough to arrange a taxi with a friend of his who would take us through and not charge anything. Now, believe it or not that really did go according to plan and before we knew it we were sitting comfortably in a café sipping on some beers reminiscing about our days’ adventure while waiting for Kristen to show up. Oh, and when Kristen did show up she said that she’d been in Bishkek for about 5 hours because she decided to brave the Ala-Too mountain pass that Patrick and I were so afraid of (again, see a previous blog for explanation) and arrived in under four hours for 50 com off her fair because she had to share her taxi with a sheep! Female intuition, I guess.
At any rate, there’s really not much to report about IST except a lot of government-mandated rigor moral and hilarious alcohol-induced antics that don’t have much place here. So, I guess I actually am integrating and learning the language after all! Now I only have PDM (Project Design Management) training in March then I’m out of trainings completely. Scary to think that Peace Corps puts that much faith in me after so little training, but I did get a candy-bar out of this last one so I guess that’s something!