Wow, it has been quite a while since I’ve updated this! Maybe it’s because I just haven’t been able to put into words what I’ve been up to, or maybe it’s because I haven’t actually been up to anything…probably the latter, though the former was closer to the truth when I first got back to America. Either way, it’s good to be back!
Coming back from Kyrgyzstan was difficult. Once I was on the flight from New York to Seattle I was by myself and my own thoughts for the first time since the whole debacle began. I wrote a lot and watched as many movies as possible before my terrible battery ran out, but nothing could prepare me for the shock of being back home in Seattle. As soon as I entered SeaTac Airport from the airplane I almost had a panic attack. It was all I could do to keep myself together as I made my way to the baggage claim to reclaim my baggage that, as fate would have it, was missing (only to be miraculously delivered to my parents’ house three days later). Not only missing, but there was no record of it even leaving Bishkek! Okay, I thought as I shrugged off yet another setback, at least I’m safe. My parents picked me up and I struggled to explain to them what had precipitated my return from Peace Corps. I slept remarkably well that night, and awoke the following morning to have the first proper shower I’d had in nine months. It was just as amazing as I’d imagined, and my skin was drier than I’d ever experienced…it’s remarkable how well one’s body adjusts to periodic vs. regular bathing!
I’ve been spending the past couple of weeks just reconnecting with my friends here and laying around the couch at my parents house in Woodinville figuring out my next step. That’s probably why I’ve decided to post this now, because I’ve finally figured it out! Well, not exactly…but I have an idea, and many great men have relied on less…no, actually, if they had less than an idea I guess they’d just be lucky not great…hmmm…well, with what I’m going to do I think I’m going to need both the ‘idea’ and a not insignificant amount of ‘luck’ to get me through it. Anyway, I’m moving to London!! I’ve always said that I wanted to take advantage of my dual citizenship and live and work in London for a time, and I knew that following a successful twenty-seven months in Peace Corps I’d actually do it so why should a not-so-much-though-still-quite-nice-just-cut-short-successful nine months make that decision any different? Exactly. Have a plan, stick to it. So I bought my ticket on www.1800flyeurope.com one-way from Newark, New Jersey to London on Virgin Atlantic for $280!!! I swear I’m not going to make a habit out of plugging things like this, but if you want some cheap airfare from the US to Europe check that website out!
Before I leave I’m going to spend about three days in New Jersey with my friends Alex and Joe, two guys who also “had” to leave Kyrgyzstan with me, kicking around Tony Soprano’s hometown wreaking havoc on unsuspecting “girls in their summer clothes” (sorry, blatant Boss reference) while soaking up as much Americana as I can before moving to the old country!
Why London, one might ask? Why not Paris, or Rome, or Fiji? Well, to this query I have but three simple responses: 1) they speak roughly the same language as your dear writer here, and after struggling with a Turkish-Asian ancient hybrid I just don’t want to think that hard, 2) I have family and friends there to ease my transition, so as much as being a homeless backpacker sounds romantic and not altogether an impossibility considering my lack of funds as of late, the possibility of having a couch when I need it does sound quite nice. Plus, I’ve really taken to bathing on a regular basis and I’m just not willing to give that up again! 3) I want to act. No, that statement will not be followed by a clever quip meant to stimulate your frontal lobe into an uncontrolled example of what makes gelotologists love their work, no. I’m serious. I’ve acted ever since I was a freshman in High School and even had the audacity to major in it as a student in University. Though my love for the stage and faith in America’s economy have both given me little hope for the future, I feel that now is the perfect opportunity to devote myself entirely to a passion that might (or might not, but there’s no need to mention that here) work out and in a country where my “type” will be a valuable asset. I’ve wanted to act ever since I first discovered that I have a knack for dressing up in other people’s clothes and pretending to be someone I’m not. It’s an art. Seriously, any three year old will tell you that. But in order to set myself up for the greatest chance of success I feel that I need to do it somewhere other than New York or L.A. where there are thousands of American males who look and act just like me. I’m at the unique advantage of having dual citizenship, and I’ve recently been accepted to join Spotlight, the professional actors database for Great Britain so I’m off to a good start. I also recently discovered that as soon as I get my NIN (National Insurance Number, like a Social Security Number but in England it does more for you) I’m eligible to join British Actors’ Equity Union, the premier union for professional actors in Great Britain. So there you have it. As soon as I arrive in the great London town I’ll be visible to all of the agents and casting directors that could make or break me, and as soon as I sort out my NIN I’ll be able to join the union which means I’m then eligible for ALL professional work. All of this can possibly take place within my first month of residence.
Enough bragging, I’m pretty excited but there’s no reason to harp on these things here. I’m writing all this to let you know that I’m not just doing this on a whim. I’m treating my moving to London as a serious endeavor, and I think I may actually have a shot at getting some good work over there. At least I won’t have to work my way up as an extra like I would if I moved to L.A. or New York. Nor will I have to deal with any of the bullshit that comes with the acting scene in those two cities; I’m sure London will have plenty of its own to keep me rolling my eyes but it should be just foreign enough to keep things exciting! At least that’s my sanguine ideal of what I actually don’t know anything about. We’ll see, and rest assured I’ll be updating this blog to let ya’ll know how things progress.
Before I leave I’m just going to keep hanging out with my friends and getting as much time with family in as I possibly can. May 9th is the last day I’ll be in America for ____________months or years. Then again I was pretty sure I’d be living in Kyrgyzstan for two years instead of the short nine months it turned out to be so I guess that old adage is true: Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans. I can only hope that life has something good and exciting ready to greet me on the grand isle!
23 April 2009
06 March 2009
Changing job, changing weather, etc.
I had my first day of work in over two months today and it was awesome! Maybe it was the kids fresh off a two month winter hiatus and their accordingly renewed spirits that helped, perhaps it was my own re-energized vigor and commitment that just gave me some different colored lenses to see through, then again, maybe it’s because I just so happened to be in a completely different school with a new teacher that actually gives a damn. Yup, that’s right. I’m in a brand new school. I was supposed to start last week like everybody else, but the Sunday before my “first” day back my (now former) counterpart called and said that she was in Bishkek, but she’d be back soon. Knowing full well Peace Corps’ policy of TEFL volunteers being required to work with their counterparts at all times (it also goes so far as to state that should a counterpart be absent, the volunteer must be too…we’re not substitute teachers after all) I smiled into my phone and said “okay, just call me when you return.” When Thursday finally rolled around and I still hadn’t heard from her, and hadn’t gone to school myself, I finally tried to reach her to no avail. That’s when I called my PM (Program Manager) and said “fuck this, I’m out.”
Now I’m sure you just read that final statement of mine and thought to yourself “well, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? James probably could have shown a bit of restraint and given it a bit more time…or, it could just be a cultural thing!” I would actually be inclined to agree with you…had this occurred only once, twice ah hell, if it had even occurred only seven times I still would have sucked it up, chalked it up to some miscommunication and let bygones be bygones. However, at my former school with my former counterpart this whole “Ah, James’ll be there I don’t have to really work” attitude was so consistent an annoyance that my PM back in NOVEMBER wanted to move me. My thought then was “but I fit in here, I know the kids and my way around, why bother?” Although after a two-month period of literally doing nothing but watch the world become a frozen wasteland from the comfort of my freezing cold bed in near zero temperature bedroom I found that I really had lost all patience…especially considering it was the first bloody week back! So I called my PM, apologized for not allowing her to move me sooner and found a new job in a new school with a new counterpart about a mile from my old school. I didn’t have to change sites, so I’m still living with my awesome host-family and getting along great!
My first day back was truly amazing. I had forgotten how much energy I get from the kids in the class. They’re so crazy and goofy they really break down the “adult” barriers that seem to be getting more and more a part of my comfort zone and they reminded me how much I truly do love what I’m doing here. That’s not to say that I love teaching in general. I still feel as though I owe my former teachers a long heart-felt apology for ever bothering to exist in their time, but it’s the greater work that I’m doing here that reminded me today how cool this job really is. Also, my new counterpart is phenomenal. We’ll see how the rest of this year and next year go but already today I saw a distinct difference between her methods and my former counterparts’. You know, she actually has a lesson plan and uses group activities to engage the kids instead of just standing there and reading from a dry Soviet-era text expecting them to learn on their own. Also, she goofs around with the kids. They obviously love her and she obviously really likes what she’s doing…I don’t particularly want to go into more here so you’ll just have to read some prior blogs for an adequate comparison to what I came from…sorry—today was just too good to rehash bad experiences!
So, yeah…life is good, or in Kyrgyz жакшы өмүр, sorry, I just find this language pretty fascinating is all:)
On another note…I just recently got accepted into the position of PCVT (Peace Corps Volunteer Trainer) and will be training the new volunteers the first month they’re here. I am a Kyrgyz Culture Trainer so I will visit each of the training sites during my four weeks as a trainer (PST is three months long so there are three shifts of PCVT’s…I’m in the first:)) to deliver presentations on Kyrgyz culture and answer questions as the arise. Which, considering the fact that I’m in the first shift there should be plenty! This also means that I have to be away from my site for a month living in an apartment in Kant (it’s a big-ish city about an hour away from Bishkek) with the other PCVT’s. At first I was excited at the prospect of what being a PCVT will entail, i.e. meet the new volunteer’s fresh from America, kick it with other volunteers working together on projects for a month in close proximity to the “big city”, etc. But now I’m not so sure. I’m still excited to be a PCVT, and can’t wait to get started working with the other volunteers and Peace Corps staff on developing some really great PST material, but I just started work at my new school so it’s going to make my transition there all the more difficult. Plus, today after my first 7th form class a couple students came up to me immediately afterward asking about when I’d be starting my English Club! When I told them I couldn’t do it until the end of April, they all looked really disappointed. I’m sure parents are used to seeing their kids get disappointed but man, these kids really show their emotions and I felt bad…these new volunteers better rock!
I’m sure they will:)
Next week I’m heading to Bishkek with my new counterpart for a week-long PDM (Project Design Management) training session and we’ve already discussed what project we’re going to focus on! Isn’t she amazing:) We’re going to write up a grant to hold monthly teacher-training seminars focusing on the 4-Mat (not enough time to explain here…use Google) lesson plan and how to successfully navigate away from the defunct Soviet-style while not shocking everyone around you. This might sound strange, but yes, kids can actually learn and have fun in group activities at the same time…shocking. Then I’m back at site for a week, then I go back to Bishkek for a week-long TOT (Training of Teachers) to prepare for my new role as a PCVT—then the new volunteers arrive and everything gets kicked into gear!
Every day here the weather is getting a little bit warmer (birds are actually chirping outside my window as I type this) and the roads are slowly turning from ice into thick, sticky, deep mud, which I’ve heard lasts for about the length of time that I’ll be living in Kant, so I really don’t mind. I’m only 5 months away from only having a year left (weird…) and everything is finally starting to fall into place. Once I return from training during PST I’ll have about two months left of school, then summer, then my second, and final school year, then summer, then…? Weird…just got to take it one day at a time and make sure that I make the most out of everything I can while I’m here. Oh, that’s another good thing about my new counterpart—she’s really excited about organizing these teacher-training seminars with me so I think that in my new school I’ll finally be able to accomplish everything that I set out to do!
Now I’m sure you just read that final statement of mine and thought to yourself “well, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? James probably could have shown a bit of restraint and given it a bit more time…or, it could just be a cultural thing!” I would actually be inclined to agree with you…had this occurred only once, twice ah hell, if it had even occurred only seven times I still would have sucked it up, chalked it up to some miscommunication and let bygones be bygones. However, at my former school with my former counterpart this whole “Ah, James’ll be there I don’t have to really work” attitude was so consistent an annoyance that my PM back in NOVEMBER wanted to move me. My thought then was “but I fit in here, I know the kids and my way around, why bother?” Although after a two-month period of literally doing nothing but watch the world become a frozen wasteland from the comfort of my freezing cold bed in near zero temperature bedroom I found that I really had lost all patience…especially considering it was the first bloody week back! So I called my PM, apologized for not allowing her to move me sooner and found a new job in a new school with a new counterpart about a mile from my old school. I didn’t have to change sites, so I’m still living with my awesome host-family and getting along great!
My first day back was truly amazing. I had forgotten how much energy I get from the kids in the class. They’re so crazy and goofy they really break down the “adult” barriers that seem to be getting more and more a part of my comfort zone and they reminded me how much I truly do love what I’m doing here. That’s not to say that I love teaching in general. I still feel as though I owe my former teachers a long heart-felt apology for ever bothering to exist in their time, but it’s the greater work that I’m doing here that reminded me today how cool this job really is. Also, my new counterpart is phenomenal. We’ll see how the rest of this year and next year go but already today I saw a distinct difference between her methods and my former counterparts’. You know, she actually has a lesson plan and uses group activities to engage the kids instead of just standing there and reading from a dry Soviet-era text expecting them to learn on their own. Also, she goofs around with the kids. They obviously love her and she obviously really likes what she’s doing…I don’t particularly want to go into more here so you’ll just have to read some prior blogs for an adequate comparison to what I came from…sorry—today was just too good to rehash bad experiences!
So, yeah…life is good, or in Kyrgyz жакшы өмүр, sorry, I just find this language pretty fascinating is all:)
On another note…I just recently got accepted into the position of PCVT (Peace Corps Volunteer Trainer) and will be training the new volunteers the first month they’re here. I am a Kyrgyz Culture Trainer so I will visit each of the training sites during my four weeks as a trainer (PST is three months long so there are three shifts of PCVT’s…I’m in the first:)) to deliver presentations on Kyrgyz culture and answer questions as the arise. Which, considering the fact that I’m in the first shift there should be plenty! This also means that I have to be away from my site for a month living in an apartment in Kant (it’s a big-ish city about an hour away from Bishkek) with the other PCVT’s. At first I was excited at the prospect of what being a PCVT will entail, i.e. meet the new volunteer’s fresh from America, kick it with other volunteers working together on projects for a month in close proximity to the “big city”, etc. But now I’m not so sure. I’m still excited to be a PCVT, and can’t wait to get started working with the other volunteers and Peace Corps staff on developing some really great PST material, but I just started work at my new school so it’s going to make my transition there all the more difficult. Plus, today after my first 7th form class a couple students came up to me immediately afterward asking about when I’d be starting my English Club! When I told them I couldn’t do it until the end of April, they all looked really disappointed. I’m sure parents are used to seeing their kids get disappointed but man, these kids really show their emotions and I felt bad…these new volunteers better rock!
I’m sure they will:)
Next week I’m heading to Bishkek with my new counterpart for a week-long PDM (Project Design Management) training session and we’ve already discussed what project we’re going to focus on! Isn’t she amazing:) We’re going to write up a grant to hold monthly teacher-training seminars focusing on the 4-Mat (not enough time to explain here…use Google) lesson plan and how to successfully navigate away from the defunct Soviet-style while not shocking everyone around you. This might sound strange, but yes, kids can actually learn and have fun in group activities at the same time…shocking. Then I’m back at site for a week, then I go back to Bishkek for a week-long TOT (Training of Teachers) to prepare for my new role as a PCVT—then the new volunteers arrive and everything gets kicked into gear!
Every day here the weather is getting a little bit warmer (birds are actually chirping outside my window as I type this) and the roads are slowly turning from ice into thick, sticky, deep mud, which I’ve heard lasts for about the length of time that I’ll be living in Kant, so I really don’t mind. I’m only 5 months away from only having a year left (weird…) and everything is finally starting to fall into place. Once I return from training during PST I’ll have about two months left of school, then summer, then my second, and final school year, then summer, then…? Weird…just got to take it one day at a time and make sure that I make the most out of everything I can while I’m here. Oh, that’s another good thing about my new counterpart—she’s really excited about organizing these teacher-training seminars with me so I think that in my new school I’ll finally be able to accomplish everything that I set out to do!
26 February 2009
Ahh...winter is OVER!!!
Well, I had my first Valentine’s Day in Kyrgyzstan and it turned out to be the first holiday that I’ve celebrated exactly like I would have back home! My site-mate, Patrick, and I met at our local café where we ate cheap food and drank cheaper beer while watching terrible Russian music videos play for about 4 ½ hours. Okay, so I probably wouldn’t have been watching Russian music videos back home, but the cheap food and beer has been pretty much the Valentine’s Day norm for me throughout the past couple years so for the first time in a long while I felt right at home! I stumbled home drunk (again, pretty much the norm for a successful Valentine’s Day…at least according to my past) and ate some Kyrgyz food while answering questions from my family regarding this wonderful holiday. “So James, you don’t have a girlfriend? Why not?” Or, “So, when will you get married?” Or my personal favorite: “twenty-five is very old to not be married, you should have at least a few children by now…otherwise it’s considered quite ooyat (see previous blog post for ‘ooyat’ explanation).” I know, I know (my usual response to this line of questioning) when I get back to America I will marry a nice girl and settle down (this is usually spoken through stifling laughter) then I’ll have lots of children to work on my farm (again, stifling laughter). This seems to placate their concerns for my family-man-future enough to continue eating and ignore the giant “single” elephant in the room long enough to finish their meal and call it a night. What a Valentine’s Day indeed!
On a different note, my Winter Camp has been going great! I had some excellent people come from the local health center to give a two hour long presentation on HIV/AIDS and discuss safe-sex in a culturally appropriate manner the first day, then the second day my other site-mate Liz gave an excellent presentation on reproduction. All in all the first two presentations were stellar, and considering how bad they “could” have been (considering how extremely sensitive these two subjects are in Kyrgyz culture) I feel that the first two days kicked the camp off nicely! Wednesday, my buddy Cameron gave a great presentation on nutrition. I specifically asked him to do this because being exposed to the Kyrgyz diet over a prolonged period of time has given me plenty to be concerned about and I think that he got his points across nicely…again, while not completely dissing on Beshbarmark (see previous blog post for explanation) which I never could have done! Thursday all of the volunteers that I’ve invited to my camp gave some excellent information on drug and alcohol abuse through presentations and skits and Friday I gave out certificates to everybody then organized a rousing game of Dodge Ball! I purchased the balls with my camp money as an “extracurricular activity” expense and gave a brief overview before letting the kids at it. Even though I had the translators there to help me the kids played like they’d been doing it for years. It must be something instinctual in all of us that says throwing things at other people is not only really funny but also a lot of fun! Anyway, I got some great feedback from the other volunteers that helped me, the translators I organized, my counterpart, the school director and all of the kids involved (55 in total!)…all in all, it was a huge success!!
Other than that these two brief snippets there’s not really much more to report on my end. This winter has been extremely relaxing, if not quiescently irresponsible, and I finally go back to class on March 2nd…which is one week before I got to Bishkek again for PDM (Project Design Management conference) for another week. I just can’t seem to escape the big city, which all things considered isn’t really that much to complain about at all!
On a different note, my Winter Camp has been going great! I had some excellent people come from the local health center to give a two hour long presentation on HIV/AIDS and discuss safe-sex in a culturally appropriate manner the first day, then the second day my other site-mate Liz gave an excellent presentation on reproduction. All in all the first two presentations were stellar, and considering how bad they “could” have been (considering how extremely sensitive these two subjects are in Kyrgyz culture) I feel that the first two days kicked the camp off nicely! Wednesday, my buddy Cameron gave a great presentation on nutrition. I specifically asked him to do this because being exposed to the Kyrgyz diet over a prolonged period of time has given me plenty to be concerned about and I think that he got his points across nicely…again, while not completely dissing on Beshbarmark (see previous blog post for explanation) which I never could have done! Thursday all of the volunteers that I’ve invited to my camp gave some excellent information on drug and alcohol abuse through presentations and skits and Friday I gave out certificates to everybody then organized a rousing game of Dodge Ball! I purchased the balls with my camp money as an “extracurricular activity” expense and gave a brief overview before letting the kids at it. Even though I had the translators there to help me the kids played like they’d been doing it for years. It must be something instinctual in all of us that says throwing things at other people is not only really funny but also a lot of fun! Anyway, I got some great feedback from the other volunteers that helped me, the translators I organized, my counterpart, the school director and all of the kids involved (55 in total!)…all in all, it was a huge success!!
Other than that these two brief snippets there’s not really much more to report on my end. This winter has been extremely relaxing, if not quiescently irresponsible, and I finally go back to class on March 2nd…which is one week before I got to Bishkek again for PDM (Project Design Management conference) for another week. I just can’t seem to escape the big city, which all things considered isn’t really that much to complain about at all!
26 January 2009
Keeping a Watchful Eye (now...)
I arrived to the new bus station in Bishkek after a hellishly long trip from Talas due to three kids that constantly needed potty breaks thereby disrupting my otherwise serene winter marshutka ride, at around 4:30. The driver of the marshutka was kind enough to arrange a taxi for me to get into that would take me directly to Peace Corps’ head office nearby, just about a 60 som trip. It was all going according to plan until the taxi guy had the nerve to pull out onto the main road to get going and was immediately flagged down by a policeman (Мылытся). Normally these guys just check the driver’s papers, make up some infraction that the driver can then get out of with a bribe and everyone is happy and on their way. However, my driver did not have his papers in order so the nice policeman took his keys away. This left me to go find a taxi on my own that would take me the 10 minutes to Peace Corps. Seeing as I’ve caught my own taxi numerous times in this country and can speak the language I was not at all concerned and my guard was certainly down…do you see where this is going yet? I found a taxi, negotiated the price and threw my bags in the back seat. No sooner had my hand left my backpack than the motherfucker took off screaming down the street with the back door still open and me left standing there like a fool screaming obscenities. This damn terrible person had just made off with my computer, clothes, all my bath supplies, my sleeping bag and my water bottle. My heart was beating out of my chest as I struggled to find the appropriate curse word that would adequately express my severe hatred for this man when all of the other taxi drivers gathered around me, obviously intrigued by my dilemma. Who is he? I demanded, what’s his taxi number? Where does he live? Who are his children so I can eat their hearts in front of his stupid face? These questions were met with appropriate responses and as I was putting this information into my cell phone I noticed two taxi drivers get on their cell phones and walk away from the group. This was the first sign that these bastards were in cahoots. I called Peace Corps and tried to subdue my trembling excitement enough to speak coherent English to the poor Kyrgyz duty officer so they could understand my pain when not more than 5 minutes passed and this thief of a taxi “driver” came tearing back to the lot with a shit-eating grin on his face and all of my belongings neatly secured in his back seat where I left them. I got off the phone and stormed over to him. What the fuck? I wanted to say, but seeing as the Kyrgyz language doesn’t allow as much leeway in obscenity as English gratefully provides I was left with a meek “Эмнеге Бул Байкей” which roughly translates to “why that older brother?” To this inquiry he smiled and said “come on, we’re friends right? I was only joking…come on, now I will take you where you need to go”…in Kyrgyz, of course:) I shamed him with a good long ooyat (see a previous blog post for explanation) and found another sympathetic taxi driver to take me to my meeting with Peace Corps where I promptly reported him. Peace Corps is in tight with the police here so I hope this dude rues the day he dared to cross…um, me.
Looking back at this incident I realized a couple of things: first, as soon as the other taxi drivers realized that I can speak Kyrgyz and was getting all of this douche-bag’s information to give to the police they called him, gave him a head’s up, so he came back with his tail between his legs. If I were a tourist or anyone that didn’t speak Russian or Kyrgyz I would have been royally screwed, which brings me to: 2. From now on I will never put my stuff in a taxi, when I’m taking it alone, first. I will get in, and then throw my stuff in the back. 3: now that I’ve been in this country for some time and know the language enough to get around comfortably I have made the mistake of letting my guard down. The problem is that I stick out like a sore thumb here and especially in Bishkek, the “big city”, there are a lot of people around looking to ruin my day. I’ve got to remain vigilant…
Don’t worry, I’m safe, I got all of my stuff back and I learned a great lesson. But damn…what an adventure! Lessons learned for next time, that’s for sure…
I’m heading back to Bishkek February 5th for a Culture Committee meeting…oh yeah, I’ve been appointed to the culture committee for the incoming volunteers so I’ll have a perfect place to get my crazy stories and Kyrgyz-life-lessons heard by the greatest number of people! Hopefully another blog post doesn’t come out of that trip…but in this country you never know!
Other than that crazy mishap there’s really not much more to report here. I just got all of the money for my winter camp and will be meeting with my Talas connection and the other volunteers that are helping out next week before I head to Bishkek to nail down the particulars. Until then I’ll just continue playing guitar, reading, watching movies, and sometimes change the order of the three. Winter is crazy here, huh?
Looking back at this incident I realized a couple of things: first, as soon as the other taxi drivers realized that I can speak Kyrgyz and was getting all of this douche-bag’s information to give to the police they called him, gave him a head’s up, so he came back with his tail between his legs. If I were a tourist or anyone that didn’t speak Russian or Kyrgyz I would have been royally screwed, which brings me to: 2. From now on I will never put my stuff in a taxi, when I’m taking it alone, first. I will get in, and then throw my stuff in the back. 3: now that I’ve been in this country for some time and know the language enough to get around comfortably I have made the mistake of letting my guard down. The problem is that I stick out like a sore thumb here and especially in Bishkek, the “big city”, there are a lot of people around looking to ruin my day. I’ve got to remain vigilant…
Don’t worry, I’m safe, I got all of my stuff back and I learned a great lesson. But damn…what an adventure! Lessons learned for next time, that’s for sure…
I’m heading back to Bishkek February 5th for a Culture Committee meeting…oh yeah, I’ve been appointed to the culture committee for the incoming volunteers so I’ll have a perfect place to get my crazy stories and Kyrgyz-life-lessons heard by the greatest number of people! Hopefully another blog post doesn’t come out of that trip…but in this country you never know!
Other than that crazy mishap there’s really not much more to report here. I just got all of the money for my winter camp and will be meeting with my Talas connection and the other volunteers that are helping out next week before I head to Bishkek to nail down the particulars. Until then I’ll just continue playing guitar, reading, watching movies, and sometimes change the order of the three. Winter is crazy here, huh?
22 January 2009
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!
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!
08 January 2009
Psychic Wanderings through this desolate land...
I’m psychic. Yup. All available evidence points to the fact that I am completely psychic. I’m not just any run-of-the-mill psychic, mind you, I’ve got a specialty of a sort…a uniqueness that should be in high demand if I can ever find a way to market my services via late-night infomercials. I’m a food psychic! I can predict now beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly what my host-family will serve me for breakfast, lunch and dinner! Jealous? Yeah…us psychics look at all you common folk with a certain loving placation knowing that you’ll never fully appreciate the grandness of our universe…even if it is limited to Kyrgyz culinary disasters.
Every day for the past month I’ve predicted correctly the bread and butter for breakfast, the soup made of a mysterious amalgamation of potatoes, beans, meatish substance and broth that constitutes every lunch, and last night I had a dream about the Beshbarmark I’d be eating for dinner tonight. If I haven’t yet fully explained the absolute terribleness of this particular dish please allow me a brief digression while I illuminate the particulars for you, my loyal reader.
Beshbarmark is made with large, flat and greasy noodles piled on a large round plate. Well, sometimes the plate is square or even rectangular but that doesn’t matter here. What does matter is the meat that is dumped on top of it. If you’ve ever been to Safeway’s meat section you have no idea what I’m talking about. If you’ve ever been to an actual butcher shop, you still have no idea what I’m talking about. In fact, short of anyone who’s actually slaughtered a sheep and taken a good look at what makes a sheep tick on the inside, no one but the Kyrgyz and their honored guests know what I’m talking about. The “meat” that’s piled on top of the large, flat, and greasy noodles isn’t actually “meat” (at least as Americans know…nay, the entire western world knows it) at all but a combination of intestines, stomach, liver, kidneys, and bits of meat still attached to a bone with the head of the sheep on top. Yeah, the HEAD of the sheep sitting on top of this gastronomic monstrosity! All of the meat (except the head, more on that later) is boiled for a couple of hours so that it loses all nutritional value and tastes like rubber before it’s ready to be thrown on top of the fat greasy noodles. Now, the head of the sheep actually gets fire. However it gets only enough fire to make its brain cook (yeah, the brain is still inside) and its hair fall off. Then it too gets thrown on top.
Maybe this doesn’t sound too bad to you? Maybe boiled intestines and other miscellaneous organs layered on top of fat, greasy noodles actually sounds appetizing? Well my friend, welcome to every single Goddamn Kyrgyz party I’ve ever been to. However, the reason that Beshbarmark is served on a large plate isn’t to ease the distribution of servings to dinner guests…oh no, it’s so that everyone can sit around it on the floor and dig in with their hands! There’s nothing quite so breathtaking as the sight of a 75 year old Kyrgyz woman sitting on the floor, mashing up noodles and intestines with one hand and shoving the whole mess in her mouth, before reaching for some fresh noodles that you’ve carefully stashed as close to you as possible to minimize organ contact, thereby getting her organ/noodle/saliva mix thoroughly drenching her hand evenly distributed around the group-plate as fairly as possible. Then she asks why I’m not eating with the same carnivorous delight as the rest of the eager participants! Well, my dear, it just so happens that I don’t like meat (easiest response, and in my case a complete fallacy whilst enjoying the comforts of America, but it’s veracity due to my temporary Kyrgyz zip-code cannot be questioned). Oh, she says, you’re Apa says you eat meat all the time. Ha ha ha, I say before feigning a bout of terrible misunderstanding (I am still new to this country after all) as I relieve myself to the toilet.
But I digress.
Last night I had a dream about being back home in America and explaining Beshbarmark to my friends and family while sitting around a lavish Thanksgiving dinner replete with wine, Turkey, (insert every item you’ve ever imagined would be at your ideal Thanksgiving dinner here) and a nice medley of various Holiday music permeating every conversation. Why and how Beshbarmark made its sordid self known to this otherwise lovely dream of mine I have no idea. However when I awoke with a tear in my eye and the taste of home fading into yet another distant memory I remembered that I am, indeed, a food-psychic. That’s when I broke out into a cold sweat and looked at my reflection in the mirror as the winter sun slowly rose in the early morning sky. I cried and cried screaming say it isn’t so, please God, say it isn’t so! I’ve had such a great Beshbarmark-free two weeks, why now? Why now oh God of mine—WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!! Ours is not to question why though, only obey and suffer as Catholicism dictates. Comfortable accepting this dogma I made my way once again to my now-frozen sheets and spent the next few morning hours loathing my profound psychic gifts for ever making themselves known.
Sure enough, I awoke later this morning to the smell of freshly baked bread (out of all of the otherwise tasty foods that the Kyrgyz have somehow managed to make practically inedible, their bread is delicious. Seriously. I will miss it when I’m gone…it’s truly the best bread I’ve ever had, and I’ve been to France) and ready-made coffee permeating the restless atmosphere of my sanctuary, er, room. So I sat down and said well, that’s only one out of three meals…maybe, just maybe I’m not psychic after all! But alas, oh no, I thought as I sat down to lunch of potato, bean, meatish, and broth soup…I’m 2/3 of the way towards certain disappointment!
I spent my afternoon hours studying for the GMAT (yeah, this summer I’ll be taking it in Almaty, Kazakhstan) and reading On the Road. Then I got the dreaded “James, kel, kel, azr biz jaybiz!” As soon as I exited my adventures with Neal Cassidy and Jack Kerouac I smelled the smell of smells. I heard the simmering water still reeling from its intimacy with untouchables. Finally, I saw the eager smiles from my Apa and her guests as they dug in to the dreaded dish with a voraciousness unmatched in the ages. Come James, they beckoned me, come and eat our national dish (oh yeah, Beshbarmark is the Kyrgyz mothafuckin’ national dish…hence, it’s served at every single party in the entire country) and partake in our floor-sitting affair! Well, I did. Luckily I was at my house so I grabbed a separate dish into which I then scooped fresh (hopefully) untouched noodles and choice pieces of identifiableish sheep-meat while trying not to make eye-contact with the newly brazened beasts’ head before me. I ate what I thought was an acceptable amount (don’t want to insult them, after all) and I quickly made my leave saying I was busy watching a movie. I thanked them all for their hospitality, and declined to marry the teenage daughters they always seem to offer at every party (are they joking? I’ve been here for six months and I’m still not quite sure) before heading back to my room to devour as much candy as possible to get the taste of sheep out of my mouth.
And that, my friends, is what I call Wednesday.
I’m out of school until March 1, and before my AIDS Awareness and Life Skills training camp begins the third week in February Peace Corps has decided that all of the K-16’s need additional training (actually, it’s part of the whole program, everyone does it three months in to their site-service) so I’m going to Bishkek on January 9th for what will be plenty of good times with my fellow volunteers all week long at the infamous Issyk-Kul hotel for our IST (In-Service Training). Thank you Peace Corps, thank you.
Until then, Jakshay Barangiz (go well) and more updates to come from my soon-to-be renowned exploits during IST!
Every day for the past month I’ve predicted correctly the bread and butter for breakfast, the soup made of a mysterious amalgamation of potatoes, beans, meatish substance and broth that constitutes every lunch, and last night I had a dream about the Beshbarmark I’d be eating for dinner tonight. If I haven’t yet fully explained the absolute terribleness of this particular dish please allow me a brief digression while I illuminate the particulars for you, my loyal reader.
Beshbarmark is made with large, flat and greasy noodles piled on a large round plate. Well, sometimes the plate is square or even rectangular but that doesn’t matter here. What does matter is the meat that is dumped on top of it. If you’ve ever been to Safeway’s meat section you have no idea what I’m talking about. If you’ve ever been to an actual butcher shop, you still have no idea what I’m talking about. In fact, short of anyone who’s actually slaughtered a sheep and taken a good look at what makes a sheep tick on the inside, no one but the Kyrgyz and their honored guests know what I’m talking about. The “meat” that’s piled on top of the large, flat, and greasy noodles isn’t actually “meat” (at least as Americans know…nay, the entire western world knows it) at all but a combination of intestines, stomach, liver, kidneys, and bits of meat still attached to a bone with the head of the sheep on top. Yeah, the HEAD of the sheep sitting on top of this gastronomic monstrosity! All of the meat (except the head, more on that later) is boiled for a couple of hours so that it loses all nutritional value and tastes like rubber before it’s ready to be thrown on top of the fat greasy noodles. Now, the head of the sheep actually gets fire. However it gets only enough fire to make its brain cook (yeah, the brain is still inside) and its hair fall off. Then it too gets thrown on top.
Maybe this doesn’t sound too bad to you? Maybe boiled intestines and other miscellaneous organs layered on top of fat, greasy noodles actually sounds appetizing? Well my friend, welcome to every single Goddamn Kyrgyz party I’ve ever been to. However, the reason that Beshbarmark is served on a large plate isn’t to ease the distribution of servings to dinner guests…oh no, it’s so that everyone can sit around it on the floor and dig in with their hands! There’s nothing quite so breathtaking as the sight of a 75 year old Kyrgyz woman sitting on the floor, mashing up noodles and intestines with one hand and shoving the whole mess in her mouth, before reaching for some fresh noodles that you’ve carefully stashed as close to you as possible to minimize organ contact, thereby getting her organ/noodle/saliva mix thoroughly drenching her hand evenly distributed around the group-plate as fairly as possible. Then she asks why I’m not eating with the same carnivorous delight as the rest of the eager participants! Well, my dear, it just so happens that I don’t like meat (easiest response, and in my case a complete fallacy whilst enjoying the comforts of America, but it’s veracity due to my temporary Kyrgyz zip-code cannot be questioned). Oh, she says, you’re Apa says you eat meat all the time. Ha ha ha, I say before feigning a bout of terrible misunderstanding (I am still new to this country after all) as I relieve myself to the toilet.
But I digress.
Last night I had a dream about being back home in America and explaining Beshbarmark to my friends and family while sitting around a lavish Thanksgiving dinner replete with wine, Turkey, (insert every item you’ve ever imagined would be at your ideal Thanksgiving dinner here) and a nice medley of various Holiday music permeating every conversation. Why and how Beshbarmark made its sordid self known to this otherwise lovely dream of mine I have no idea. However when I awoke with a tear in my eye and the taste of home fading into yet another distant memory I remembered that I am, indeed, a food-psychic. That’s when I broke out into a cold sweat and looked at my reflection in the mirror as the winter sun slowly rose in the early morning sky. I cried and cried screaming say it isn’t so, please God, say it isn’t so! I’ve had such a great Beshbarmark-free two weeks, why now? Why now oh God of mine—WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!! Ours is not to question why though, only obey and suffer as Catholicism dictates. Comfortable accepting this dogma I made my way once again to my now-frozen sheets and spent the next few morning hours loathing my profound psychic gifts for ever making themselves known.
Sure enough, I awoke later this morning to the smell of freshly baked bread (out of all of the otherwise tasty foods that the Kyrgyz have somehow managed to make practically inedible, their bread is delicious. Seriously. I will miss it when I’m gone…it’s truly the best bread I’ve ever had, and I’ve been to France) and ready-made coffee permeating the restless atmosphere of my sanctuary, er, room. So I sat down and said well, that’s only one out of three meals…maybe, just maybe I’m not psychic after all! But alas, oh no, I thought as I sat down to lunch of potato, bean, meatish, and broth soup…I’m 2/3 of the way towards certain disappointment!
I spent my afternoon hours studying for the GMAT (yeah, this summer I’ll be taking it in Almaty, Kazakhstan) and reading On the Road. Then I got the dreaded “James, kel, kel, azr biz jaybiz!” As soon as I exited my adventures with Neal Cassidy and Jack Kerouac I smelled the smell of smells. I heard the simmering water still reeling from its intimacy with untouchables. Finally, I saw the eager smiles from my Apa and her guests as they dug in to the dreaded dish with a voraciousness unmatched in the ages. Come James, they beckoned me, come and eat our national dish (oh yeah, Beshbarmark is the Kyrgyz mothafuckin’ national dish…hence, it’s served at every single party in the entire country) and partake in our floor-sitting affair! Well, I did. Luckily I was at my house so I grabbed a separate dish into which I then scooped fresh (hopefully) untouched noodles and choice pieces of identifiableish sheep-meat while trying not to make eye-contact with the newly brazened beasts’ head before me. I ate what I thought was an acceptable amount (don’t want to insult them, after all) and I quickly made my leave saying I was busy watching a movie. I thanked them all for their hospitality, and declined to marry the teenage daughters they always seem to offer at every party (are they joking? I’ve been here for six months and I’m still not quite sure) before heading back to my room to devour as much candy as possible to get the taste of sheep out of my mouth.
And that, my friends, is what I call Wednesday.
I’m out of school until March 1, and before my AIDS Awareness and Life Skills training camp begins the third week in February Peace Corps has decided that all of the K-16’s need additional training (actually, it’s part of the whole program, everyone does it three months in to their site-service) so I’m going to Bishkek on January 9th for what will be plenty of good times with my fellow volunteers all week long at the infamous Issyk-Kul hotel for our IST (In-Service Training). Thank you Peace Corps, thank you.
Until then, Jakshay Barangiz (go well) and more updates to come from my soon-to-be renowned exploits during IST!
27 December 2008
Happy New Year!
Wow. Christmas has come and gone and now I’m surrounded by about two feet of snow everywhere, well below freezing temperatures every night, no school until March, and a brand new year just around the corner. It’s odd. It never really felt like Christmas at all over here. Granted, I am living in a country that is 98% Muslim, with the remaining 2% Russian Orthodox Christian which is its’ own unique kind of old-school faith so there was nothing at all to remind me that it was the Christmas season. No supermarket songs and decorations laid out beginning sometime obnoxiously after Halloween, no advertisements for classic Christmas movies on TV, not even the usual break people in school and work get around the big 2-5!
I woke up Christmas morning at 7:30, got dressed in my suit and tie and went to a local school to help administer the regional English Olympiad test. I tested and interviewed 9th-11th graders until around 1pm, then went to the banya and had a beer with my site-mate Patrick. I got home after a quick café trip at around 5 and hung out with my Kyrgyz family until my American family called at 9pm (my time) to wish me a Merry Christmas. It was certainly the oddest Christmas I’ve ever had…
In Kyrgyzstan the big holiday this time of year is Janga-Jil, literally translated to New Year. What’s so odd about it though is that they decorate Christmas trees, give presents and even have a guy that looks identical to Santa Clause (called Ayaz-Ata, or Frost Father) that treats the kids to whatever wish they may have…and they party for a full two weeks before the actual New Year on the 31st. Even then, because it’s not directly Christmas related, it still didn’t feel at all like Christmas!
I do like the way they celebrate their Janga-Jil though. On Christmas Eve…sorry, December 24, my school had their big Janga-Jil party for the upper classmen (9-11 grade). This was just like any other high school dance, but everyone was eating various salads, eating various breads, drinking various champagnes and dancing various dances with various dance competitions that became really quite varied once the various champagne was drank by all attendants in various ways. Needless to say it was a very fun party!
On a more professional note: Because I am out of school for two full months (this is due to the fact that Kyrgyzstan may or may not have power to heat the schools throughout the winter) I volunteered to go to Bishkek for a week (last week) and complete a training session on grant-writing and camp organizing. Subsequently I have written a PEPFAR (President’s Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief) grant for a week-long AIDS, sexual health, and Life Skills camp for my area’s youth to be held in Talas. Peace Corps in Kyrgyzstan has never done this before, nor have I, so this is going to be a learning process all around. Hopefully I get approved; PEPFAR has granted $2800 per camp, of which my budget only requires $2100 and some change so I should be okay. Especially considering that Kyrgyz culture is very indirect in addressing sensitive subject matter (and just about everything else) this camp is going to be extremely beneficial to the youth who otherwise would never receive this information. I’ve lined up a translator and two area health professionals to give presentations, and a bunch of other volunteers have jumped on board to help as well…I’ll keep ya’ll posted on the progress as I go. On top of that it looks like I’ll be teaching the teacher’s at my school English through the winter, as well as my host-mother who for some reason loves the nasally American accent. No school basically means I get to wake up as God intended--whenever the fuck I feel like it for two months, but I’m also certainly going to be busy which is a huge relief:)
All in all Peace Corps is going quite well. It’s harder, and easier than I thought it would be. If that sounds like a contradiction than you’ve obviously never been a Peace Corps volunteer so please just take me at my word. I’m finally getting to do some “real” work outside of my committed schedule which is extremely rewarding and on top of all that my Kyrgyz language ability has gotten to the point that I can talk to anybody about just about anything…as long as it’s a very simple subject and they forgive my grammatical mistakes:)
Keep on keepin’ on…I can’t remember where I heard that, but it seems appropriate for my state of mind at the moment. I’m just keepin’ on with keepin’ on…
I woke up Christmas morning at 7:30, got dressed in my suit and tie and went to a local school to help administer the regional English Olympiad test. I tested and interviewed 9th-11th graders until around 1pm, then went to the banya and had a beer with my site-mate Patrick. I got home after a quick café trip at around 5 and hung out with my Kyrgyz family until my American family called at 9pm (my time) to wish me a Merry Christmas. It was certainly the oddest Christmas I’ve ever had…
In Kyrgyzstan the big holiday this time of year is Janga-Jil, literally translated to New Year. What’s so odd about it though is that they decorate Christmas trees, give presents and even have a guy that looks identical to Santa Clause (called Ayaz-Ata, or Frost Father) that treats the kids to whatever wish they may have…and they party for a full two weeks before the actual New Year on the 31st. Even then, because it’s not directly Christmas related, it still didn’t feel at all like Christmas!
I do like the way they celebrate their Janga-Jil though. On Christmas Eve…sorry, December 24, my school had their big Janga-Jil party for the upper classmen (9-11 grade). This was just like any other high school dance, but everyone was eating various salads, eating various breads, drinking various champagnes and dancing various dances with various dance competitions that became really quite varied once the various champagne was drank by all attendants in various ways. Needless to say it was a very fun party!
On a more professional note: Because I am out of school for two full months (this is due to the fact that Kyrgyzstan may or may not have power to heat the schools throughout the winter) I volunteered to go to Bishkek for a week (last week) and complete a training session on grant-writing and camp organizing. Subsequently I have written a PEPFAR (President’s Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief) grant for a week-long AIDS, sexual health, and Life Skills camp for my area’s youth to be held in Talas. Peace Corps in Kyrgyzstan has never done this before, nor have I, so this is going to be a learning process all around. Hopefully I get approved; PEPFAR has granted $2800 per camp, of which my budget only requires $2100 and some change so I should be okay. Especially considering that Kyrgyz culture is very indirect in addressing sensitive subject matter (and just about everything else) this camp is going to be extremely beneficial to the youth who otherwise would never receive this information. I’ve lined up a translator and two area health professionals to give presentations, and a bunch of other volunteers have jumped on board to help as well…I’ll keep ya’ll posted on the progress as I go. On top of that it looks like I’ll be teaching the teacher’s at my school English through the winter, as well as my host-mother who for some reason loves the nasally American accent. No school basically means I get to wake up as God intended--whenever the fuck I feel like it for two months, but I’m also certainly going to be busy which is a huge relief:)
All in all Peace Corps is going quite well. It’s harder, and easier than I thought it would be. If that sounds like a contradiction than you’ve obviously never been a Peace Corps volunteer so please just take me at my word. I’m finally getting to do some “real” work outside of my committed schedule which is extremely rewarding and on top of all that my Kyrgyz language ability has gotten to the point that I can talk to anybody about just about anything…as long as it’s a very simple subject and they forgive my grammatical mistakes:)
Keep on keepin’ on…I can’t remember where I heard that, but it seems appropriate for my state of mind at the moment. I’m just keepin’ on with keepin’ on…
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