Cultural Learnings of Kazakhstan

Why We Walk

2009-09-26T07:56:00.000-07:00

The Pleasures of a Village Stroll

Why We Should Move to Fremont

The average American family owns between two and three cars, though this number is declining in the face of the recent CRIZIS (as it is referred to in Kazakhstan, accompanied by a sympathetic nod). In your typical Kazakhstan village less than a quarter of families own cars, and many of those are old and dented Soviet models on their last legs. Instead of burning a hole in the ozone and spewing motor oil into streams and rivers, Kazakhstani’s get about mostly by foot.

I realize that foot travel is not possible for the typical suburbanite American, of which about half of Americans are a part. This is a tragedy, as foot travel has many advantages, the most obvious being environmental. It is commonly known that Al Gore discovered global warming and got a Nobel Prize for trying to light a fire under our asses. This has led many families to rid themselves of excess cars and become a single car household, but until we get out of the suburbs, we’ll be constricted to evening strolls around the block. These, however, lack the charm of stray dogs chasing you with hungry eyes and fierce barks which you find in a village.

As an aside, I want to have a small say about suburban life. While it can seem “pastoral” and great for raising kids, the homogenizing nature of suburbs is really a detriment to society. The multicultural melting pot that urban living can offer enriches children and offers them a world view that is clearly missing from life on the outside. You can get the small village feel in a rich and diverse city block, and as the green movement continues, there will be greater access to open spaces within the jungle.

Fresh air could be the one benefit of suburban life, and it is found readily (and bragged about readily) in villages. You aren’t choked in by smog and pollution. Here, again, however, Al Gore is saving the day by leading us towards clean energy and green manufacturing. It may not have taken hold yet, but given time, the air in the industrial neighborhood of Seattle could be as refreshing as Upland Green. In addition, getting outside provides the average person (read – obese lardo) some much needed exercise. Just the daily walk to and from work can start to rim off those unsightly chins and spare tires. Moving on.

People are the heart and soul of a village. In a walk to work you often pass such characters as the early morning drunk, the shop lady and the goose herder. If you were to breeze past in a car, you would be denied the magic of these people as they stagger, strut and steer through the streets. In a world where email and facebook (or blogs, for that matter) are not a household word, chance meetings in the street are the best method of passing on the news or latest gossip.

You won’t find the joke of the week in your inbox in a Kazakhstan village, but you might run into your acquaintance from the local butcher’s who has a new one to tell, even if you can’t understand it due to the colloquial language and odd sense of humor of the locals. This is the greatest benefit of walking your way around.

Walking about, and the slow speed of life here, is one of the greatest pleasures I’ve derived from my time here. Returning to the high speed, car obsessed world of America I’m sure will lead to me reminiscing about my idyllic life here, just as sure that my ruminations will drive you all nuts.

Sliced Bread: Not Just a Cute Metaphor

2009-09-23T08:07:00.000-07:00

In the interest of doing more writing, I now present, for your reading pleasure, the first of many articles about the little things in Kazakhstan. I hope you find it stimulating and enlightening.

Sliced Bread: Not Just a Cute Metaphor

Americans who have never lived abroad take so much for granted. Our cars, internet connections, clean water and so much more. Among these is an item elegant in its simplicity which makes our lives so much better. I am, of course, talking about sliced bread.

Few of us think, when making a sandwich, realize the benefits of having bread pre-sliced for us, wrapped up in plastic that keeps it fresh and soft. In Kazakhstan, however, that is a luxury few people can afford. Our bread is bought in a large, crusty loaf. It is usually baked in a local bakery and each loaf is individual, with its own flaws and quirks.

When we want French toast, we just beat some eggs and add a few other ingredients, and then pull a couple slices from the plastic wrap and fry them up. In Kazakhstan, we must draw the knife across the bread in order to enjoy the sweet cinnamony taste our beret wearing brothers across the Atlantic bestowed on us.

Few Americans know the frustration of not being able to slice those thin pieces of bread off the loaf, perfect for surrounding a large, succulent stack of roast beef, lettuce, tomatoes and mayonnaise. We don’t understand that in Kazakhstan, there are no sandwiches because the bread makes the meal too large to stuff in our mouths.

We can’t comprehend the pain of watching your bread tear and rip from a dull knife that prevents you from making that ideal piece of toast. No, we Americans greedily slather on the butter and thick cuts of cheese that form the core of a grilled cheese sandwich without a thought to how hard it would be to melt that cheese evenly if it were placed on a piece of bread more than a quarter inch thick.

The next time you make a sandwich or a piece of toast, be it French or otherwise, I hope you think of all the poor children who will never know the beauty of a sack lunch with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or tomato soup and grilled cheese on a cold winter day. Revel in the divine symmetry of your bread slices, but don’t forget your poor Central Asian brothers who must slice their own.

Keep Your Friends Close...

2009-09-03T05:44:00.000-07:00

For those that do not know, I was on the verge of being sent home two months early. For the past three weeks I have been awaiting a decision from the local village government about whether or not I should be allowed to continue teaching in their schools. This action came about through no fault of mine, though it was set in motion by a mistake I made several months ago. I wrote an article that explained the situation and resulting problems for the Peace Corps Kazakhstan newsletter/literary journal, and I thought I would share it all with you.

Making Friends in Kazakhstan: A Cautionary Tale

By Jeff Whitehill

Some months ago I was the victim of a crime. I had some valuables stolen out of my apartment by some people I thought were nice. I was lonely and depressed and thought maybe I had found some new friends. Though my possessions were returned to me and the criminals were locked up, the situation became progressively worse in my village. I am providing this tale to all of you in hopes that you can learn from my mistakes. Pay heed, for this is a story of betrayal and deceit.

I play soccer fairly regularly with a group of men during the summer. I’ve been playing various sports with them for the past two years and they were all friendly and welcoming. This particular Wednesday, however, was not an ordinary day. I arrived at the school where the game was usually played to find a group of young men, about my age, loitering about. They were dressed to play, but none of the regulars were there. I walked up and changed into my cleats, thinking that the regulars were all running late, per usual.

The young men struck up a conversation with me and what followed was typical of most conversations between young men. Firstly we talked about soccer, my cleats etc. We then quickly progressed to girls and similar “serious” topics. After a few minutes some more young men arrived, toting a box. We all squatted in a circle, and I was introduced to the new comers as their new American friend. They produced from this box a large collection of beers, which they passed around the group.

Seeing as I was squatting on the edge of a soccer field next to a secondary school, I declined the beer. I declined many times, actually. The correct move would have been to excuse myself from the group and head home, but I was enjoying the company. Remember: I’m lonely.

One member of the circle, a squirrelly little Kazakh man, fell in love with my Washington Huskies hat. He wanted it as a gift, and became quite vehement when I refused to part with it. As a means of consoling him, I offered him any of several other hats I had, promising to bring them to the next game so he could look over them and choose his favorite. He proposed that we go to my apartment and get one now. After much pressure, I caved like a wet noodle and I led a small group of four “friends” back to my apartment to get hats and drink some tea.

Once at the apartment my new “friends” became fascinated with everything I owned. They looked at my pictures on my wall, played my guitar, looked through my books and gazed longingly at my iPod. We eventually made it into the kitchen where I brewed the tea. While we waited, they wandered about a bit; some going to smoke on the balcony, others going to the bathroom or returning to my living room. Once the tea was brewed we sat down and drank a cup. I then gave out my hats, and we said goodbye.

As soon as they left I looked about my apartment and noticed several expensive items missing. I’ll cut to the chase at this point, because the absurd details of dealing with the police is something many people are familiar with. I got my things back, more or less in working order, and the guys were caught. I thought the problem was settled, but it was only just beginning.

I returned from a summer camp in mid August to find out an article had been written about me in the local paper claiming I had gotten drunk with these boys, invited them to my apartment to imbibe some more vodka and “various other spirits,” and only after we were very drunk did they steal my things. The article said I was a bad influence and I shouldn’t be teaching the local youth. Like the great Richard Nixon, I had fallen victim to a liberal media out to destroy my reputation.

The local Raion took this article as canon and called Peace Corps to have me removed. Peace Corps took my side; they made a trip to visit the Raion, met with the Deputy Akim and followed up with a strong letter. Though we have the facts, according to the police report, on our side and every single person I know claims this article couldn’t be the truth, the government seemed convinced of my wrongness and disreputableness. As the letter from Peace Corps said, “We find it very strange that an American Volunteer, who is in Kazakhstan to help students learn English, should be victimized by local hooligans and then be accused as if he committed a crime himself." We all know, however, that logic is not always a factor in such decisions.

Not everybody in this country values our work or desires the presence of Peace Corps. There are a few people who would love nothing more than to discredit our work, as you can infer from a line in the letter to the newspaper from a so-called concerned citizen. “The Law-enforcement institution closed this criminal case very easily, but it suggested some ideas… Is it at all possible that all PCVs associate, without embarrassment, with such company? And what can such a teacher teach our kids, in addition to English?”

The actions of one volunteer reflect on all of us, and “someone” – I think we all know who - was using this situation to create the idea that all volunteers could be disreputable people, tainting their children with our improper action.

In the end, the truth set me free. The Raion and Akimat read the Peace Corps letter, reviewed the police report, which confirmed my story, and could not deny that I was, in fact, a stand up guy. The Akim himself gave me permission to stay until the end of my service. I was happy and grateful for this rational end to the problem.

It was a relief to know I would not be leaving my community under these circumstances. Now I have a chance to make sure I leave a lasting impression of goodwill, hard work and honesty with my community. This whole situation helped me to realize I am not satisfied with what I have accomplished here, and will strive to do more in my community.

My wish is that you can learn from my lesson and be very careful who you associate with, however briefly. Don’t allow people to take advantage of your kindness, generosity or naivety, as happened in my case. There are plenty of good people to befriend in Kazakhstan, they just aren’t found on the side of a soccer field drinking beer.

The Panicked Buildup to America

2009-08-12T01:38:00.000-07:00

It's all coming to an end. I've been in Kazakhstan for two years now. I have less than three months left before I am released and start toward home. It seems an appropriate time to do some reflection.

Has my service been exceptional and everything I wanted it to be? No. But has it been good, fun and fulfilling? Yes. I've second guessed my decision to join Peace Corps, but I believe the experience has been positive. I've taken a lot away from my time here: learning a bit about the world but even more about myself. In no other program can you get the same experience of living within a community, and becoming a part of it, than in Peace Corps.

I feel that a lot of the work I do is futile. The school children are not really learning much English. They aren't interested in foreign languages. Sometimes I think that this is through some fault of my own. Then I remember what I was like during High School, and how much attention I paid during German class. I like to think I've at least provided a good role model for the young men at school and left a lasting impression on the people I've met.

I had a nightmare the other night. I was home, in my old bedroom, and I was holding the door closed so none of my family could come in. I was feeling lost and apart from everybody. Since that dream, a sort of dread has begun to grow in me about what I will do with myself once I'm back. How I will go from being a local celebrity to another face in the crowd? How will I go from a setting where I'm experiencing something new almost daily, challenging myself and growing to the daily grind and typical mid-20's lifestyle?

On top of that, how will I find a job? What sort of career am I actually interested in? It's a lot to consider, and will likely lead to minor panic attacks as my Close of Service date (Nov. 6th) approaches. The closer I come to leaving, the more worried I will grow, I'm sure. I have friends, both Americans and locals, that I feel like I will be seeing for the last time. Leaving America to come here, I had the knowledge that in two or three years I would see them all again. Now, it's unlikely I will make the trip out here again, unless I find a job that will pay me to. How do you say goodbye for the last time?

All of these questions run through my head every day, and every night as I wait for sleep to overtake me and bring me that much closer to all of you back home. I'm immensely excited for coming home. The things I will do, people I will get to see and get to know again. Sometimes it makes it hard to remain here, sitting in my apartment or going to school. But once the fairy tale wears off and I've been home for a month or two, it'll be hard.

Sort of a morose blog post. I hate to leave all of you on such a down note. Summer has been slow though, and not post-worthy has happened. My days are filled with running, internet, tv and books. I visit some folks, I got to do a little bit of travel that was relaxing and very welcome. School will begin in about a month, at which point time will race by and before I know it, I'll be home. I'm savoring my remaining time here. It's been great, and the departure will be very bitter sweet.

Ultimate Reloaded

2009-06-29T02:40:00.000-07:00

The week went off more or less hitchless. A few hiccups, but nothing that truly mattered went catastrophically wrong. I am, of course, speaking of Ultimate Zhelezinka: Frisbee Camp 2009 (A title I came up with mid camp).

Nora Williams, volunteer legend of Zhelezinka, organized this camp last year and I was little more than an innocent bystander caught in her wake as she created dozens of teen "Ultamites." This year it was my turn. I decided to up the ante and work for 60 children, 15 more than last year. I won't bore you with the planning stages because, frankly, they bored me as well.

When the time came for the camp to begin, Zhelezinka was descended upon by five additional Americans who crowded into my cozy apartment and brought with them an arsenal of discs, energy and Americana. Camp began with about fifteen children standing outside my school swatting at bugs and wondering when we'd get on with it. We dragged them inside, ran through an abbreviated version of last years opening ceremony, since there were few people of interest in attendance to impress, then high-tailed it for the field.

Frankly, the details of the camp aren't all that exciting. Mornings were filled with demonstrations and training in the techniques of Ultimate: throwing, catching, cheering and running around, and afternoons were full of games or other activities. I will give you my top ten highlights of the week, some of which include out-of-camp antics.

Number 10: A six level card house built by the talented Mr. Fledder-Johan, with structural support provided by my foot.

Number 9: Rain dances and huddling in metal shacks waiting for the thunderstorm to pass directly overhead.

Number 8: Frisbee golf with the final target being an unsuspecting Aaron "Arboose" Hueth

Number 7: Ice cream and Coke floats

Number 6: Tie-Dye shirts and a camp banner. This was the favorite activity outside of actual Ultimate. The kids wanted to know when we would do them. There was some confusion, because I thought our local sports deparment of the education center was going to donate shirts for us to paint. When I showed up to get the shirts, they wanted to make sure I would return all 23 of the shirts I was taking. I said we had planned on painting them. Apparently they hadn't heard me the first several times I had mentioned that part, and it was a no go. Luckily, I had enough shirts left from least year that the kids could each get one, though some volunteers were left without one.

Number 5: S'mores and Shashlik on our final night. "Slav" pulled off a great feast and marshmellows were a highlight for a culture that considers pure sugar an essential part of each meal.

Number 4: The returning children from last years camp being pros already and improving greatly on their skill. Honestly, they were really good this year and defintely remembered a lot of what they had learned from last year, a testament to the success of the camp run by Nora and hope for future itereations of the camp.

Number 3: The amazing dinners cooked every night by various chefs. Meals included pancakes loaded with apples, chocoalte, bananas, strawberry syrup, powedered sugar, tacos!, and plof.

Number 2: Late night games of Oh, hell!" filled with anger, surprise and hilarity. It's a great card game, for those of you who don't know, where you have to try to make a bid and rarely manage to. I, the all-star, managed to get the all time highest single game score and still come dead last in the overall, end of the week, average score.

Number 1: America vs. Zhelezinka end of camp game. Five or six of us volunteers took on 15-20 children in the traditional Ultimate game to conclude camp. Last year it was a crushing by America. This year, the kids kept their own and brought the game to a 4-4 tie using a "mob" technique that left three or more kids on every volunteer. We did America proud, however, and scored the final goal and called it game. We'll see how America does next year though, when most of the original camp leaders are back in America.

So that was camp, and it was a load of fun. The kids loved it and want to know when we'll be playing more. The volunteers also had a blast. My apartment barely survived the invasion and after a couple hours of cleaning, was more or less back in order. Summer is just beginning and the good times will continue on. In a short while there will probably be another post, of more or less general musings as my service is winding to a close. It's hard to imagine I only have four more months left here. Bittersweet.

King of My Own Castle

2009-05-23T22:06:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am. Sitting in my apartment. Typing a blog on the internet in real time. Yes, you read that correctly. I am on the internet in my own apartment. On May 1st I packed up my boxes, said goodbye to my third host family and traveled twenty minutes across town (3 minutes by taxi) to my new pad. It's on the second floor of the only three story apartment building in Zhelezinka, so everybody knows where I live when I tell them "The 3 storier." My apartment consists of a spacious living room, a bedroom and a small kitchen. There is a bathroom (more on that later) and an entry way for taking off shoes and hanging up coats, plus a small, glassed in balcony that is currently overrun by drying underwear (hand washing is not fun).

After a couple days I had unpacked my boxes and suitcases, arranged my books on the window sill and hung pictures up on my walls. I rearranged some furniture in the living room, put new sheets on my bed and washed all the pots and pans that had been left for me. One huge benefit of this apartment is all the furniture and most of the dishes were left behind. I have barely bought a thing besides a sharper knife, bedding and hand towels. Megan came over for the first evening and we cooked pelmini, my favorite local dish. Jane came the next day to keep me company.

On Saturday some men from my school came by to do some work on my toilet that supposidly didn't work because of a bad tank. They hooked it up, put a bucket under the place it dripped and said they'd come back later with a new tank that wouldn't drip. That's when things started to go wrong. Sunday morning at 7 am I woke up to a pounding on my door. I enquired who it was and the reply came that it was a neighbor. She commanded me to open the door. Me being a obliging American, I turned the key and opened the door. I was nearly trampled by the small Kazakh woman who stormed in, screaming about a leaking ceiling. She charged into my bathroom to discover that it was flooded.

She ranted and raved at me until I finally pushed her out the door and called my landlady. She came hurrying over and saw the mess. She began mopping it up and blamed it on the workers from my school for hooking up a leaky toilet. I wasn't convinced that was the problem, since the leak persisted even after the toilet was unhooked and the tank drained.

The water got shut off after some time. It was a problem because the Soviets who built this apartment decided they could save money if they didn't put a shutoff valve in each apartment

but instead one for the entire building. So now all the neighbors were angry that the water had been shut off.

Over the next two weeks I was constantly hounded by my downstairs neighbor whose ceiling dripped whenever the water was turned on and other neighbors who wanted water. I, in turn, hounded my landlady, who assured me that she was working diligently on the problem. This turned out to not be the case. She didn't want to pay for this repair, so was pretending to get work done and really getting nowhere. No less than three different men came to look at the problem and all said the same thing: there is a pipe that is rotted and has to be replaced. Then nothing would happen.

After two weeks of no water, people were very angry. The water would occasionally get turned on and then the lady downstairs would race around until it was shut off again. I kept telling my neighbors that something would be done soon, and it rarely did. I missed a soccer game/tournament because I was sitting waiting for the plumbers that never came one Saturday. I developed a strong ability to yell in Russian as well. My neighbors came a few times yelling and telling me to do something, to call my landlady. She would yell for five minutes until I would become fed up and yell back that I can't do anything well she was yelling at me. I'd usher her out the door, getting angrier and angried (though I still empathized). Finally, the neighbor threatened to go to a judge and sue both me and my landlady about this. She ended up calling the director of my school.

I, Slave (my counterpart) and the vice-directors were called into a meeting with her. She wanted to know what was going on and what we were going to do about it. We explained it (Slava laying some of the blame at my feet for wanting to move out on my own) and she told us to get it

done now. Slava and a worker from the school ran off to get somebody who could replace the pipe.

The men came, they worked for a couple hours, and got it done. My landlady agreed to pay them for the work. They had to tear apart my bathroom a bit to get it done, but I didn't mind. Finally, the water was running, nothing was leaking and peace returned to the 3 storier. Lots of the neighbors came to watch the welder work and comment on it. I thanked them, and finally, after two weeks, relaxed and let the stress leave my body.

After that, I got internet hooked up. Now I'm online entirely too much. Even with all the problems and stress, I'm still very happy to have moved out, I like this apartment and I think my remaining time will pass quickly and happily.

In other areas of life, things are good too. School is over officially tomorrow. I have a frisbee

camp coming up in a couple weeks with five volunteers coming from out of town to help run it. I've got plans to do some work with the local hospital that hopefully I can begin on now that things are settled in my apartment. Things with the girlfriend are good, especially now that we don't have to impose on anybody if she comes to visit. I've got books to read, I'm cooking my own meals (which is nice because it fills up some of my free time that was incredibly boring before). Life is good.

the update

2009-04-21T03:26:00.000-07:00

People have been complaining about the snow adn teh cold and the wind for months now. So what do they do once it gets warm? Move into the shade.

The snow is finally all gone, the cold, biting wind has turned into warm, dusty wind and life is moving along according to some sort of plan, I'm sure. I am soon moving into my own apartment after over eighteen months of living with host families that feed and shelter me. There are many skeptics out there that believe I will go crying back to a host family in less than a month because men are incapable of cooking, cleaning and washing without somebody to guide them through it. I've assured the many people that I did live without my parents or anybody else to look after me for two years while I was in college (though mommy was always there to tell me what spin cycle to put my clothes on).

The apartment is definitely the most exciting thing for me personally right now. It's two rooms, a kitchen and a toilet. No shower, no banya, so washign myself will not be as easy as before. I will manage to afford internet and food at the same time (though time with one will have to be sacrificed for the other, and I think we know which one will win out). I move at the end of the month, if not sooner, and at this point teh anticipation keeps me up at night. I've always been that way, unable to stand the wait.

Other news, Jane took me to a Kazakh wedding, which was somethign I've been wanting to do for a long time. It turns out it's not so different from an American wedding. It started with a ceremony at the mosque which was in two languages, neither of which I understood, but I got the main idea being about love and committment to each other. We traveled to the family's house, where sixteen extended family members all live under one roof, though considering Kazakhs don't have the same temperance as the Brady Bunch, I imagine it was more like an insane asylum than a home. We left the group for a few hours and met them again for the reception that night.

Kazakh receptions again resemble American ones, except in two areas. The first is the importance of food, which is served all night long, with three main dishes that everybody sits down to stuff their faces with. They then get up and dance, preparing themselves for another round. In addition, all through the night, toasts are given by every guest at least once. Some run long and windy, others (like those given by an American who'd never met the happy couple before) are terse but thoughtful. I would say the same amount of time is spent toasting as is dancing.

We managed to get out of there around 11 o'clock or midnight, about three hours earlier than most other guests would. I had talked with several people and came away with some valuable knowledge. One man informed that the world is a cycle and America is at fault for the current crisis, which means capitalism is going to collapse and socialism will return followed by communism, which was great for the people of the Soviet Union and will work well all thruoghotu the world. I became frustrated when I couldn't find the proper langauge to tell him how absurd his theories were. The second story that I enjoyed was from the emcee, who came to our table to talk. He told me and my fellow Americans that Kazakhstan is a place without boudnaries, so once you get here and realize what you've fallen into, you can't get out.

I'm going to keep the update to that. I don't know if there will be more frequent updates once I have internet at home, or if I'll still have nothing exciting to talk about.

Routinely Different

2009-01-22T03:31:00.000-08:00

Updates at this point are few and far between. Why is that? Not because nothing interesting happens to me, and not because I’m tired of telling you all about it. I don’t update because this life is not as spectacular seeming as it once was to me. I’ve commented on people’s mannerisms, the motivations of people and psychotic geese terrorizing me in my own backyard. Where once it was foreign, exotic and exciting, it has finally become common place to me.
I feel (and have been told a number of times) that I am very well adapted to this country and am one of “them.” The language is finally making sense to me, routines and peoples quirks are expected and life generally rolls on. I like my life here and am enjoying my time. That’s not to say I’m not counting down the months until I get to see you all again, but I am no longer just “surviving” my service. I can relate to these people and their struggles, which I think is a large part of what Peace Corps service is, beyond the stated goal of teaching English. What I can take away from the service is an understanding and empathy for cultures that seem bizarre to me, and begin to appreciate the differences with my own bizarre culture.
I think that I have scared a few people with my talk of possibly staying on a third year of service. Let me reassure you all now, that’s the remotest of possibilities. There was a point where I felt one hundred percent at home and wasn’t really sure what I would need from back home. That feeling has mostly passed when I was blindsided by another bout of homesickness. There’s still lots at home that I can’t get here (like my mom) that even a month stay at home wouldn’t remedy. Knowing that strong depression and a longing for home can still hit me like they did convinced me that a third year here just isn’t for me. There’s nine months for me to flip-flop back again, but I think the end result will be the same: see you all in November.
Now that that’s all covered, here’s the latest. It’s finally cold! Part of my adapting is realizing that -20 and -25 degree weather is not that cold. Now, minus thirty-five degrees (Celsius) is absolutely freezing. I usually judge the temperature outside by the amount of frost stuck to the inside of our door in the morning. This morning there was barely any at all so I figured it would be fairly warm. I was very, very wrong. I stepped outside and started my fifteen minute walk to school.
Five minutes in my face was bright red and stuck solid with needles of frost. Another five minutes and I caught up with a group of teachers also on their way. I joined them for the walk. A HUGE mistake, because these women plod. One of my many winter enjoyments is watching the short, round women of Kazakhstan plodding along in their huge fur coats, looking like great hairy bears, to and from their homes. In this case though, it really slowed my pace. By the time we got there I was yelling “mush, mush” inside my head trying to get them to move it along.
On the return trip an hour later because classes were cancelled I pulled my scarf up to cover most of my face. I probably looked like a Siberian version of the Invisible Man. It kept me warm enough though, except the steam that escaped from my breath was shot straight up so that my eyelashes and eyebrows were completely frozen by the time I stepped inside. Grandma had a good laugh at this, since I looked completely absurd. Alright, so in the interest of saving some stories for when I get home to you all in LESS THAN A YEAR!!! I will end this update here. I will leave you with a teaser though. Ask me about my counterpart’s strategy to get new computers in our classroom from a well-known philanthropic celebrity when I get home. You’ll enjoy that one.

A late Christmas poem

2008-12-25T22:06:00.000-08:00

Here's a Christmas poem for you guys, in the tradition of last year. You may not understand all the jokes, but I hope you enjoy:

Twas the night before Christmas

and all through the land

not a creature was stirring,

Not even in Kazakhstan

This ain't a repeat of last year

I'd never be so lame

give me a little credit

I do have a modicrum of shame

Since landing in this country

over a year has gone past

where I used to daily freakout

Now I'm sure I can last

Bring on the vodka

Bring on the Russian

Though after a few shots

I may star blushin

I can tell a good joke

and give an eloquent toast

these people now love me,

though I do hate to boast

I've learned to love this country

where I'm too small for my pants

and people seem to think,

I know how to dance

I used to tremble and cry

when I thought of the time left

now thoughts of leaving

leave me quite bereft

Not to say I don't miss home

and this season is quite hard,

when I prefer eggs and coffee can bread,

I get porridge and slices of lard

My presents are stacked

beneath my glass mirror

though they lose much meaning,

without those I hold dear

With all of the new 20's

I must be a rock

cause with their tear filled eyes

I see they're still in shock

Trust me young ones

when I tell you this fact

of all the 19's

Not a one hasn't cracked

Not a year ago

I was crying for mommy

now all that I need

is a sandwhich of pickles and salami

Now a short message to mom

who may end up in tears

I assure you all is well

Nothing I can't fix with a few beers

Now it's time to celebrate

this wonderful time

cause soon we'll be home

with no job and not a dime

The economy is failing

and jobs are not found

all through Kazakhstan

talk of the criziz is around

Better to be in a job

that pays us no bucks

than begging for work

at one of Sasser's Schucks

So thank your lucky stars

you're in this crazy place

your service may feel like forever

but it flys at a quick pace

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all. Goodnight.

A Seasoned Greeting

2008-12-24T01:27:00.000-08:00

To start, I just want to say, I don’t think this entry is my finest work. I was distracted, it’s been written over many installments, and frankly, it could be better. That being said, enjoy.
Let’s begin with the unhappy, angriness. Walking through the city with some friends, we decided (I decided and dragged them along) to play soccer with some local kids. We walked over and I asked, in Russian, if we could play with them. The ringleader, an obvious punk, turned to me and gave me a firm “no.” No explanation, no nothing, just a no. I tried to reason with me but he didn’t say another word, so I stormed off in a huff, my friends tailing behind and listening to my angry muttering.
To counter that encounter, today I was carrying all my things from one friend’s apartment to another, and had just walked out the door, when I started getting honked at by a car. I thought it was just some jerk, but it turned out to be Nikolai Mickaelovich. I didn’t know him, but he drove a truck for the Red Cross and offered me a ride. After forcing open the canopy on his truck with a wrench, we threw my things in and I climbed in the cab. We shook and introduced ourselves and he proceeded to tell me that Americans are good and everybody in Kazakhstan drives like there are no laws. The few minutes we rode together to my destination were pretty enjoyable. He asked for me to give him a few tenge, for his grandchildren, which I was happy to do and we parted. It’s the kindness of strangers and not the bratty insolence of stupid kids that makes this job really fun and worthwhile.
Other brief thoughts and anecdotes: I saw a half eaten cow leg along my path to school the past two days. The bottom half of the leg, with half the bone exposed and the hoof still attached. I’ve had very strange dreams, one of which involved me having to do calculus and left me terrified (a sure sign I’m in the right place, far from math). I’ve taken up the guitar finally, and progress is slow but steady. There isn’t a lot of snow but there’s a lot of cold. This year I like it a bit more and am enjoying the beauty of the frost on everything.
Other news is that I spent the last week down in Almaty for a gathering of all the 18’s and 19’s left in the country. Those are all the volunteers that have been around for at least a year. We got together to gossip about the new volunteers at our sites, drink some beers, make plans for summer and listen to a few seminars. Besides the chance to reconnect with some old friends, I believe the biggest benefit of these biannual events is they reenergize and motivate me to get more work done and be a better volunteer. If that feeling can last the 30 hour train ride back to my site, then I’m in good shape.
Nothing overtly amazing happened this week. I spent some time with my original host family and they once again gave me the huge self-esteem boost of telling me how thin I’ve gotten and how great my Russian has become. I am able to hold real conversations with them and discuss a variety of topics. Sharing jokes and relating various stories about the past half a year in Russian without having to fake a laughter or get something explained to you makes the experience that much more enjoyable.
On the topic of my Russian, I took the language test that the Peace Corps gives out. They have among the staff accredited testers, so it’s an official thing. During the test I was explaining things like the difference between American and Kazakhstani schools, what a White Elephant Christmas Party is and other things that I couldn’t even imagine having spoken about a year ago. When I finished my training I had a score of Intermediate Low. It ranges from Novice Low to Advanced High and finally Superior. This time around I got a score of Intermediate High but the tester, Lena, told me that I had come as close to Advanced Low as I could without actually reaching it. Grammar. Go figure. Who needs it? Anyway, she told me that I have a real gift for the language and talking to me had been a real pleasure.
When I told her what my plans might be for after Peace Corps, being a school teacher, she was appalled and worked hard at convincing me to continue my studies in Russian. She didn’t want me to waste my talent, she told me. So she has me looking at programs to study in Russia or elsewhere in Central Asia, and also proposed that I would be an ideal candidate for Kazakhstan’s flagship program where they hire native speakers to teach English. It would be the same I’m doing now, only paid and working for Kazakhstan and not Peace Corps. It’s just some things to consider, I don’t have anything in concrete now.
On the way back to site Mary, a fellow Pavlodar volunteer, and I were riding on “the peoples train” which is the official name for the open wagons where you intermingle with all the folks around you, when the two older women across the table from us stroke up a conversation. We did the general talking but then feeling bolstered by my new language confidence, I tried to make some point about discrimination in Kazakhstan in the north, where many ethnicities and cultures mix, versus the south with is more or less homogenously Kazakh. I’m pretty sure I lost them at some point, but I managed to pull it back together with some references to America’s south and all that. It was an awkward bit, but in the end I think we really entertained each other and understood most of what each of us was saying.
Having a decent ability in the language makes the Peace Corps experience so much more enjoyable. Talking with people, finding out their stories and all that, is incredibly interesting to me. I see these new volunteers and how incredibly awful their Russian is (sorry Jane, Emily, Sean, Ryan) and think how that used to be me. As your language gets better and you gain in confidence, the experience becomes much richer.
Kazakhstan Independence Day has come and gone. I hung out in the city with the other volunteers, and we celebrated Jane’s birthday, who is the awesomest awesome volunteer in the awesomest awesomey oblast (did I get that right Jane?). That was a lot of fun, and then it was back to Zhelezinka, where I’ve been for the past week.
Two days after I was back we had our KBH comedy competition final. We had won the first round earlier, now we were up against two other teams from our county, I suppose you’d call it. Long story short, we won it again. If you want the full story, find me in a year when I get back, because you probably had to be there for it to be funny. The point is though, that after we won, we took our prize, a glass vase, around to various shops in the village trying to sell it so we’d have more money to celebrate with. The night ended at the café with lots of food and lots of vodka. Let the pictures speak for themselves.
Tomorrow is Christmas, and though I’m not as down and filled with feelings of loneliness like I was last year, I still miss my family. When I look at the pile of presents they sent me, sitting on my vanity, I get a bit homesick. I enjoy presents. Who doesn’t? But I enjoy them so much more when they are surrounded by other peoples presents under a festively lit Christmas tree that can barely be seen beneath the hundreds of ornaments that have been collected over the years.
This is a tough time for many people, wherever you are. I can get through this Christmas without a problem because I know that my family is thinking of me as much as I am thinking of them, and I keep the thought that next year I will be back with them, telling jokes and laughing at all the dorky comments getting tossed around.
This year I’m hoping I will have a chance to get into the city on the weekend to celebrate with all the rest of the volunteers. I have another obligation that I’m regretting agreeing to at this point, though. My school needed somebody to play the Kazakhstani version of Santa Claus, called Grandfather Frost, for their New Years celebration. This apparently happens multiple times, and of the times they want me is Saturday evening, when I expected to be celebrating Christmas. If I can, I’m going to get somebody to cover for me that one day, but as all things go in Kazakhstan, getting definite information and a solid schedule is impossible until the day of. I think I can make it work, I’ve learned a thing or two in this country, and they love me here so they’re often willing to work around my needs.
I’ve had lots of great comments from people about how much they enjoy me and what a good person I am, which is part of the reason I love doing things like this for them. But I also need to think of myself and my own personal needs. This is a hard time, and being able to be around close friends relieves a lot of the depression. A little alcohol doesn’t hurt either.
So with that thought, I’ll leave you all. I miss you guys, I love and I’ll be there next year.

Cross-dressing for the win!

2008-11-21T21:39:00.000-08:00

Those of you who have been following this blog for quite awhile may remember an event last year called Kavan (KBH in Russian). This is a team comedy competition that last year was held at our village’s concert hall. This year it was in another village. I had the dubious honor of joining teachers and a few students from our three schools to create an ultimate Zhelezinka comedy team.
The way Kavan works is you put together a few skits for various competitions. There’s an opening hello set of skits, a musical group, another they call homework where you have to do some sort of skit based on a theme they give you and a funny speech or story given by the team captains.
Our team ran on a platform of gender-bending and An-American-speaking-Russian-is-automatically-funny. I can’t really relay the jokes (you had to be there), but needless to say with my flawless delivery of lines I barely understood and struggled to remember, our team took first place!
This was coming off of a day and a half of preparation. On Wednesday a teacher came to me asking if I wanted to be in the show. I of course agreed, and I showed up for “rehearsal” at 3 o’clock that day. They gave me my lines, explained to everybody what we would be doing, and then we went home. I was told we would be recording our lines so nobody had to memorize them.
The next day I show up in the morning and am informed that my lines won’t be recorded. I have to memorize a dozen lines of Russian. Fine, I said, I can manage that. And I did. I must have read my lines over 100 times. I had them down (pronunciation was another matter). The time came for the show. I hit my first parts without a stutter. Third couplet I stalled on a line, but luckily my partner knew my part and fed me the line. The final couplet I was going along with it, then for some reason got drowned out by our cheering section. They must have realized that I was going to screw it up and figured it’d be safer to just scream and shout. They were right, actually.
So in the end, we were the funniest of four teams and now, for better or worse, we have a final competition in about four weeks. I am going to once again have about two days to prepare because the week before the competition I will be in Almaty for a Peace Corps conference that I don’t plan on missing.
Otherwise, things here have been pretty calm. My sitemate, Megan, is getting along and seems to be doing pretty well in the village. I have come to respect Nora (yes you, Nora) even more for being able to listen to all my complaints and stress relieving diatribes, as I am now doing the same. I don’t mind it because I know how much it can help to unload.
As for my depression loaded previous blog, that time has passed. That’s what happens in Peace Corps. Things get bad, then time passes. You find a distraction, you get a package from home or you email bomb all your friends (except Alex, sorry) in order to get a lot of love in return. Time passes, and soon you’re home.

Cynicism, seeds and send offs

2008-11-09T21:14:00.000-08:00

My first draft of this blog was full of cynicism and bitterness. I had had a run in with a local, all of ten seconds, but it had left a very bad impression on me and I wrote this immediately after that. I’m rewriting it now because I believe the first iteration showcased too much of the bad, and not enough of the good. I’ll now repeat the cynical part, though in a less grumpy and fed up manner.
I was walking home from school when a car pulled up beside me. The driver rolled down his window and, without a word of greeting or an excuse me, asked me where a certain address was. I informed him he was on the correct street but I didn’t know which house it was he was looking for. He drove off without a thank you or goodbye. This was made me so bitter and angry. Just writing about it reminds me of how annoyed I was at this man.
My mother and grandparents worked hard to raise me to be polite. I was taught that if you want something, including directions, you should use a please, maybe say excuse me and thank the person afterwards. I believe most people would agree that this is a mark of a civilized, cultured person (though “your face” jokes and bodily functions at the dinner table often contradicted my manners).
In Kazakhstan, it is rare to hear a person say “thank you” for dinner, or include a please in their request. In America this would be considered rude. I’ve spent many a wasted breath on a thank you that goes unanswered or gets just a grunt. It’s not as normal here as it is where all you guys live. That doesn’t make it rude; it’s just a difference in culture. I realize that now (and probably did at the time it happened as well). I think some of the bitterness came from a long downward spiral I feel I’ve been on, starting with the theft of my wallet and bank card and ending with the director of my school getting very angry with me. Allow me to elaborate.
My new sitemate came up for a visit a couple weeks ago, along with Nora. They spent a week in Zhelezinka where we saw the sites, attended a lip/accordion synched concert and baked chicken flavored cookies. At the concert we were approached by the director of the concert hall, as well as a government man who I take to be the minister of culture or some such. He had asked me (repeatedly) if I would play the saxophone in a concert. I always told him yes, then avoided him as long as I could. I’m not big on taking solos in front of large crowds of people, even if they wouldn’t know good saxophone playing from bad.
Anyway, this time they asked Megan, my sitemate, to play. She whole heartedly agreed (she’s much more enthusiastic, in general, than I am). Anyway, this made me jealous so I’ve played since then, though not in a concert. This event put me in a bit of a funk. The big downer was when we went into the city, as Megan and all the other new volunteers had to leave. Let me make an aside here.
New volunteers are so incredibly American! They dress, talk and act totally American, and stand out like nothing else. I realize now how much I have changed in this one year and have become pretty well integrated into the culture. They things they talk about as so silly or outrageous seem fairly commonplace to me at this point. Now I am one of the experts on this country and will be helping (and laughing) all these new souls.
I also want to give a quick shout out to the group of volunteers before me (Kaz-18’s) that at this point are all back in the states. Likely, now that they are free and clear, will never read this blog, but thanks anyway guys. My Pavlodar boys, and Nora (especially Nora), were a great help in keeping me sane. It’s hard to imagine service without them, but as I said, I’m the old volunteer now, so I’ll have people relying on me. I hope I can do as much for them as the older volunteers did for me.
Okay, so in the city we were going to meet up with a group of these new volunteers. Along the way I realized that my wallet was missing. It had been stolen, and I’m pretty sure (in retrospect) I know who took it. If I see him again, he’s gonna pay. Literally, I want my money back. That put a damper on the whole trip and my lack of money made it so that I had to skip a soccer match and borrow money from my new sitemate just to get home again.
The next weekend I went into the city to apply for a new bankcard so I could withdraw money. Normally this process takes about a week. After waiting outside in the cold for an hour for the bank to open they informed me that because of some problems in Almaty, it would take three weeks. This was three weeks without money. I had to borrow another large sum of money from another volunteer in order to pay my host family for November. Another bump down the ladder of happiness and stability.
The final shot came when what I thought was going to be a huge pick me up, turned out slightly disastrous. We celebrated Halloween at my school on Monday with a party in our school auditorium. I organized games, kids wore costumes and it was a lot of fun. It included bobbing for apples, pin the nose on the pumpkin and guess how many sunflower seeds are in the bottle. It was this last game that would prove to be such a problem.
I had spent the last night counting out 4929 sunflower seeds and filling a liter bottle with them. The winner guessed 4000. I awarded her the bottle. Thinking that students would be responsible and wait until they were outside to start eating them, I was way way way wrong. When the lights came on, after the students had left, I observed the destruction. There were shells all over the floor.
Needless to say, when my director saw the mess, she was not happy. She yelled at my counterpart, my counterpart got mad at me, then the director got mad at me. It all helped to drop me into a deep funk. The mess got cleaned up, but it left me in quite a bad mood. I’ve already started feeling better, but it’s definitely a couple weeks that will live in infamy for me.
So that’s that. I’m now sitting in my school killing time. We are on break, which means the students all get to go home, but for whatever reason us teachers are required to be here from 9 until 1. I miss being a student frankly. This weekend I will be house-sitting for my counterpart, where I plan to cook French toast and other tasty treats, abuse his internet and walk around the house in my underwear. It’s going to be my trial at living alone, the idea of which is becoming more and more appealing in general (not because of problems at home, but because of the extra freedom and independence [and maybe loneliness] I will have).
I have about 11 more months of service. That’s less than a year. All the volunteers leaving recently has made me think a lot of what’s waiting for me at home, and that thought is very exciting. Until then, I’ll persevere. Think happy thoughts for me.

Grammar, Common Sense and Heartiness

2008-10-15T22:18:00.000-07:00

Russian grammar is like improvisation in jazz band. For me, whenever Mr. G would stand at the front and start pointing at people to throw in a solo during some song we were practicing, my heart would begin racing and I’d do everything I could to avoid eye contact. Inevitably he would cunningly call my name, thus avoiding any chance that I wouldn’t notice, and I would have to stand and plug out an awkward and rhythmically painful twelve bar stretch of notes.

Let me explain the metaphor. Russian grammar has a lot of different endings that identify the purpose of the various nouns in a sentence. There are a total of six cases and depending on which you use, the noun can have very different meanings. The classic example is “The father gave the son a car.” In English, it’s the word order that matters. Thus, “The son gave the father a car” has a whole new meaning (and of course we know this would never happen in real life). Also, “The car gave a father to the son.” Just think about that one.

In Russian, any of those word orders can be correct, as long as you put the correct ending on each word. Now the metaphor will become clear. I studied musical theory in school and could write out the scale for different keys with few mistakes. I am studying Russian grammar and am getting better at writing the correct endings and figuring out what goes where. When it came time to play these scales, my brain became befuddled and I couldn’t identify the correct notes fast enough. The same with Russian, unless I’ve had lots of practice orally, I mix up or forget altogether the endings.

Frustrating, to say the least. But there is progress, and it keeps me hopeful that by the time I leave this country I will have a tenuous grasp and be able to apply what knowledge I have effectively in conversation.

I am nearly the senior (along with a few others) volunteer in this crazy oblast we call Pavlodar. The old guys are all leaving for America to join the ranks of the unemployed, stressed out over the economy, growing beer gut American middle class. I have another year for you guys to get it all straightened out before I come home. I am excited and a bit apprehensive about instilling my vast knowledge on these new, wet behind the ears volunteers we’re getting soon, but I think I will do my best. I would like to provide a short list of the common sense I have picked up here:

1) If you have an indoor toilet, it’s always best to make sure the water is running before going number two

2) If you have an outdoor toilet, wait until the afternoon when it’s warmest to go number two

3) Bring your own plastic bottles to fill at the beer stations to save money

4) Avoid complications. Get a signature every time you give money to your host family

5) Count the stray dogs around your favorite shashlik stand. If there is less every day, don’t eat the shashlik.

6) Be assertive about what your name is from the beginning or it becomes awkward to correct people later. “Yes, I know you’ve called me John for twelve months, but I thought it was finally time to tell you…my name is actually Jeff.”

7) Vodka is good for any occasion. Wait four or five toasts in before giving your own, you’ll be much more articulate.

8) If you shine your shoes, people will forgive frumpy hair

9) Kazakhstani fashion may look silly to Americans, but we aren’t in America. Buy the pointy shoes, wear the jean jacket and strut your stuff like JT (that’s John Travolta).

10) Ask where the tram or bus is going, don’t rely on the sign or you’ll find yourself stuck out in the boonies.

I have to add an amendment to this entry since writing it yesterday on my computer. Last night I had a great time with my English Club and post English Club. It was my adult class, and today I only had one student, but he is very enthusiastic and already can speak English decently. Anyway, he asked a question and it led into a side topic that developed into a full, improve lesson. We were speaking about excuses and how to use phrases like “I’m too tired” or “I’m too busy.” I started to feel a bit like Robin Williams during it, explaining situations. Afterwards he said it was the best ever.

Upon leaving, he invited me to his house for dinner. I accepted, thinking this is a great way to get out of the house and meet new people. Long story short, I met his mother, brother, uncle and his niece and nephew. We talked, ate good food and shared some vodka. It was a really uplifting experience, and let me tell you exactly why.

Earlier that day I had read a short essay in a book called “At Home in the World: The Peace Corps Story.” The essay was about a woman who helped build a school, and ended up getting it named after her. I was thinking, how can I leave a mark like that on Zhelezinka when I leave? This dinner made me realize that the mark the woman left was more in the hearts (sappy, I know) of the people, and the school was just a result of how much they had come to accept her and love her. By going to this dinner and talking, making them laugh and sharing stories with them, I was doing the same thing.

That’s all I wanted to add, it was a great night for me and I hope I can have more and more like it. Sorry there are no pictures.

Deep Thoughts

2008-10-06T06:04:00.001-07:00

Nothing interesting or exciting has happened lately. This update is more to talk about a couple thoughts I’ve had. First is the ability to adapt and change. The second is thoughts about home.

I realized today that some things that I couldn’t stand or completely baffled me about this country have become completely common place and even enjoyable at times. This epiphany came as I was buying a bottle of mineral water. When I arrived I could not understand why anybody would carbonate plain drinking water! It was difficult to gulp down, tasted funny and was in all ways unpleasant. Now I realize that I prefer it to normal water. It’s like a party in throat every time I take a sip and the tiny bubbles race around inside my mouth.

It was teachers’ day on Saturday and like is usual we had a big lunch at school with the teachers and other staffers of work. At about 9.30 one teacher came to work, already having drunk a significant amount and was obviously drunk. He explained that it was okay because it was a holiday, plus it was the 30 year anniversary of him teaching. He showing up like that was a small shock still, but not so much as it would have been. What was totally ordinary was drinking vodka at 11.30 with all the other teachers in our school cafeteria and making toasts to everybody, then going home slightly tipsy at about 3 o’clock. Drunkenness is not looked down as much, as long as you aren’t wild and out of control, as it would be in America. It’s just a result of having a good time. Maybe college prepared me for that a bit too.

My point is that this country seemed very foreign and bizarre when I came here, and now it’s nothing new. I feel pretty well adapted and at home among these folk, though I’m pretty sure I still baffle them at times, but that’s part of my charm as an American.

This other epiphany was my big one, concerning homesickness. I believe that there is a large distinction between wanting to go home and wishing you were home. Wishing you were home usually comes because you are bored; sitting around in the afternoon or evening, and wish you were with your friends or family. It’s much more fun to sit and hang out with people you can freely chat and joke with, than playing out their awkward lives through a video game (The Sims 2 takes up much of my free time lately). Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing Ian fall in love with Nick and Tim or Randy electrocuting himself trying to fix the dishwasher, but I’d prefer to see it in real life.

The thing is, wishing for home only comes from boredom (or having to poop outside in the middle of the winter with -40 degree temperature surrounding your bare…skin) and is not a result of my actual situation. I still love going to school and teaching the kids (those that aren’t a pain in the ass) English and chatting with teachers about home and whatever else they want to talk about. It’s a desire for more meaningful human contact that you can only get through deeper relationships (which are much easier to develop when the two parties fluently speak a shared language).

Wanting to go home is a symptom of an unhappy situation. You don’t like your school, or the family you are staying with. Maybe the climate is not to your liking or Peace Corps didn’t turn out to be at all what you thought it would be (in a bad way. I think most of us had our opinions changed upon the first two months in country). In the end, your situation weighs down on you until you crumble and have to go home. It’s not an easy choice and it can take months and months to come to the point where it’s just too much.

For me, I often have the desire to be at home among all my entertaining friends (and the fact that half of them have also scattered to different parts of the US doesn’t really factor into it). Rarely have I ever wanted to go home. At this point in our service we are pretty solidly entrenched in our communities (and I have an indoor toilet) and those feelings will be less and less.

Plus, I’m getting a new volunteer. Thought I’d mention. Her name is Megan; she’s from the D.C. area, which is really going to confuse people when they hear she’s from Washington as well. Most people can’t grasp the difference between the two Washington’s in America. Anyway, she’s coming to visit in about a week and change along with my old matey Nora and I’m pretty excited. Hopefully nothing happens to chase her off. I won’t mention the outdoor toilet.

Check back in a day or two and there will be pictures

2008-09-27T04:48:00.000-07:00

Sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long, but I'm back! And by back, I mean back to work! I've gotten over 20 hours of classes a week, which keeps me busy six days a week. During the morning, up until about 2 pm I am at school teaching 5th to 11th graders. I have about 2 hours for lunch then I head back to school for my favorite part of the day, the 3rd and 4th graders!

These kids are terrific! They are starting from the beginning, so I don't have to spend time unlearning things or reviewing past material. A lot of the time is spent playing games and things like that. They love me and are always asking when the next English class will be. They are absolutely adorable and excited about learning! It's a great feeling for a teacher, those of you that know. Life is so much easier when you don't have to force feed them the material. Things like colors, family and animals are super fun.

Among my students my favorites have to be the 4th "B" class. There's little Lea (this girl is eerily similar to a mini Lea, at least in my eyes), Arina and Sveta who have big eyes and goofy smiles. My 3rd graders include Rima and my ex-cousin Karina. Overall, I couldn't be happier to go back to school after lunch, when most people just want to relax.

Other classes are not too bad, I have a pretty fun time with most of my classes. I get tired of my older classes though and rarely look forward to them. 5th grade is good too, and I can always count on them to do their homework. The 6th grade has been begging me to come teach their class as well and I'm about to give in to them, even though I really don't need the extra 2 or 3 hours a week I'd have to be working.

I've decided that if I really want to leave my mark in this community, I need to be working a lot more on the English teachers than on the students. I'm only here another year and I can't improve English all that much, but what I can do is improve on very outdated methodology so that the resident teachers can carry on with amazing lessons. In this way though, I'm being resisted. It is very easy to rely on Russian and translate texts, and trying to get teachers to completely stop that is proving difficult. Some find it funny that I've started to become a "methodologist" as they say, but I'm going to persist. I've made a few advances, but it's going to take the whole year to get to a point that I'm satisfied.

I have also learned about the other side of potato planting. That is, the digging of potatos. I went out to a field one Saturday afternoon when I thought I was going to get to relax with a shovel and a pail. As the men dug up all the potatos we had planted five months ago (men being Slava and myself), our two women went around gathering them up. It was a pretty pathetic turn out, and we only gathered five sacks. These would not last through the winter and I heard lots of complaining about it from all points. This work was not nearly as hard as it was made out to be and we finished in the early afternoon and headed home. In most respects, it was identical to planting them, just in reverse. That's all that can really be said about this topic.

Other news, I'm officially a year older! Yeah, this old man just turned 24. I'm starting to feel it in my bones, the hair line is receding (or already receded) and my eyes are turning on me. I celebrated on the 16th pretty tamely. I had no classes that day amazingly, so I was able to relax. I got some happy birthday messages, the first at 7 am from my family in Almaty, when I was not in the right state of mind to fully appreciate it, but overall it was good. I had adults english club that night and talked to them for a bit, but there was no real celebration.

That weekend I went into the city and hung out with "the guys." We first went to a public banya in Pavlodar where we steamed, drank beers and did "man" things. Leave that to your imagination. We then met up with a local friend who I was told is "the greatest guy in Kazakhstan" which he would have to be to spend an evening with some crazy Americans. We went to a cafe and did the traditional bottle and toasts, did some dancing, then hit the town. All the details aren't necessary, but I would say I did any Kazakhstani proud, and many of my friends back home. I never went on a 21 run with my buddies, cause I'm older than most of them, but this pretty much made up for it.

I got back Monday afternoon after spending all of Sunday...recovering. Wednesday at school Slava comes up to me and tells me he has a surprise. I was thinking maybe a belated birthday present or something... but no, not exactly. Apparently Tanya, Slava's wife, had pointed out the wrong field to us when we were digging potatoes last time. We had dug up somebody else and had to go back and get our potatoes still. So Thursday morning when we had no classes and I again thought I was going to relax, Slava dragged me out to the fields.

This time it was just the two of us and it took a much longer time. Same process, but now i had to gather as well, and this was the hard part. By the end my back was killing me and I still had to go back for English club. Our driver was about an hour late coming to pick us up and Slava and I had some good philisophical discussions. Mostly about video games, movies, girls and the like. We really got deep and emotional. You can imagine.

Friday morning I learn I'm running in a race. From what I understood (and I'm getting better at understanding by the way), it was to be a relay race and I would be picking up the second leg and had to run 500 meters. At 1 pm I ate a light lunch of soup and at 3 pm got to the center where the race was to be held. It was there that I learned that I still had some work to do in understanding the Russian language. Apparently I was running my own race in the 20-29 year old mens catergory. And they had lied about the distance. I'm still not sure of the exact distance, but some say it was 1800 meters (that's more than a mile).

So I get all lined up with the other guys, most of whom are in much better shape than me and likely have been doing some running to get ready for this day. Me of course, I've been wearing my legs out digging potatoes and the like. My legs felt pretty heavy, but I figured I could do alright. So at go I took off and not wanting to look like a fool, tried to keep pace with the leaders. This quickly wore me down. As I got to the turn around point I was at 6th out of 9 or 10 people. I was wheezing and flopping my arms about, but still chugging along.

The whole time one of the kids from my school was riding beside me on his bicycle, offering me encouragement. Maybe it helped, I don't know, but as it was, I was slowly catching up to the guy ahead of me. As I neared his back, he must have heard my labored breathing or felt the spittle landing on his neck because he turned, saw me, and turned up the gas enough to get about 10 feet ahead of me again. This happened 3 times and after the 3rd I actually yelled at him, half jokingly, to slow down. He didn't listen.

As we came into the home stretch I decided I was going to get some sort of victory. So with all my students lining the track and cheering I turned on whatever I had left and came up behind the guy again. He saw me and tried to pick up his pace but he was no match. I lurchingly stumbled past him and beat him by some sort of distance, I don't know cause I was too tired to look back. I took a respectable 5th place overall. I was met by the winners and we all congratulated each other.

Then I wandered about the parking lotish area trying to hold down my lunch and stop my lungs from burning. This was the tiredest I've ever been. I tried to sit on the curb but was promptly told by a complete stranger that my butt would freeze to death or something, I was too tired to understand. Anyway, after about 10 minutes of fighting the urge to vomit, I gave up. Again, use your imagination. Though, I want to say I was not the only one from my group that hurled.

Okay, so now my legs are really, really tired. And today the school is going on a hike. Or have already. I hiked out to the woods with them, and in the interest of not using up the last of your patience with this blog, I'll keep it short. We went to the woods for Tourism Day, built fires, stomped down a beautiful meadow, ate lunch and drank tea, played games and left the place a mess. There were candy wrappers, plastic bottles and tin cans. Areas of burnt up grass and basically everything I had learned not to do in Boy Scouts. I wasn't too happy with the result, and I'm thinking of ways I can undo dozens of years of "who cares" attitude.

Alright, so that's the long (not the short) of what's been going on this last month. The weather is turning cold and before I know it I'll be trudging across ice and snow. In a week I will find out who my new American buddy will be and I've been assured that one is coming. I'm pretty excited to be the old salt out here. The guys from the city are all taking off in the next few weeks and I'll be sad to see them go, they've been a lot of fun and I wish them luck in wherever they end up (though I doubt they read this so it doesn't really matter what I say. They all smell terrible. Worse than Randy). That's all for that. Oh, also, I've reached the half way point (most volunteers leave after 26 months, 27 is the absolute limit). See you all in another 13 months.

A Week for the Record Books

2008-08-28T01:52:00.000-07:00

This blog is dedicated to the awesome camp I just finished a few days ago. This was the best time I’ve had in Kazakhstan so far, and I can’t wait to get back and do more like it next summer! I spent a week in the “mountains” of Bayanaul, about three hours south of Pavlodar at an English Camp. Seven Americans, six local teachers and around forty ninth and eleventh graders all came together for a week of English.
We met at my friend Mary Couri’s school in her village of Bayanaul. All the volunteers from the Pavlodar region, plus one ex-Pavlodarite traveled down together. We met our children and organized into our teams. The first meeting was a bit awkward, since we didn’t know the kids and they didn’t know us. They were very quiet and I was afraid it would be a very unenthusiastic camp.

Our groups were divided up by countries. I was the leader of team Japan. The other countries were Spain, India, Egypt and…Canada. Yes, Canada. Most of the kids on that team didn’t know it, but they had one of the least interesting countries in the world to represent, don’cha know. The Americans with us were Andrew (Spain), Scott (Egypt), Mary (Canada), Jeffrey/JOCAP (India), Adam (Director), and Nick (Cameraman). After a little while we piled on some more buses and headed about 30 minutes south to Lake Zhasubai and the small village that surrounds it.

Each day of camp was dedicated to a different country. We had five 30 minute lessons to teach each day, and my subject was culture. The teams would rotate through the different themes, which included history, biography, art and language. Here’s a quick rundown of my lessons by day, so you can see how exciting they were.

Day one was India day. I taught about a type of Indian theater called Kathakali. Mind you, I don’t know anything about it, and did my research on Wikipedia two days before in Pavlodar. Day 2 was Egypt and this was my most exciting lesson. I created a dead body and had the kids dig in it looking for body parts. Day 3 was Japan and I taught about Haiku’s and Japanese poetry. Day 4 was Spain and I taught bullfighting and we simulated a bullfight. Day 5 was Canada and the only thing I can think of were beavers and Mounties.
Okay, so back to that first night. We did some games to get to know each other, created flags and a small skit to tell a bit about our countries. My kids became slightly more enthusiastic but sadly, we knew very little about Japan. We came up with the capital, samurai, that it’s two islands (not true, but I was told not to correct) and a couple other things. It didn’t seem especially wondrous or anything, at least until that night.

Sunday night (first night at camp) we did something called “The Big Game!” Andrew, Scott and I painted our faces to look monstrous and put on capes. We carried stockings stuffed with flour. When the game started we came running out of a building swinging the socks. The kids had to find different stations around camp and answer questions or do a task. If they were caught between stations by one of us monsters, we hit them with the socks and they were frozen until a “medic” came and freed them by making them do another task. All I remember of the game was running through this camp howling and hitting kids with socks. It signaled the beginning of the fun and was a great start. All my fears were put to rest.

Rather than go day by day at this point, I’m going to give a few highlights. Swimming at the beach was nice, but the water was a bit cold and most days were windy which made it pretty unpleasant to get out of the water. At one point on the beach four of us Americans were standing around and put on an impromptu Three (4) Stooges act that had the kids in hysterics. We got a round of applause at the end.

Sumo wrestling on Japan day was also a lot of fun for me. We stuffed pillows in the kids’ shirts and went to the beach. We drew a ring and they had to shove each other out (kind of like sumo! Duh). Not everybody wanted to, but there were some kids that were into and pretty fierce. When nobody would step up, I volunteered and beat up two girls at once! I also managed to toss another American on his back five times, which was nice because we’d been having a friendly rivalry all week.

I learnt a game called Potato that is played with a volleyball. You stand in a circle and if you let the ball hit the ground after it touches you, you sit in the middle. People then can hit you with the ball or you can try to catch it to get out. It was a lot of fun until our cheap volleyball burst, but by that time the American football was flying around and kids were getting into that too.
My mummy I built was also a highlight from lessons. I like to believe I had the funnest lessons. There was always a game or something to go along with the information, and I didn’t have a boring subject like history. The mummy was a poster board drawing of a man with a long and narrow opening in his stomach. I taped my shirt to the back of it and closed off the holes. I then stuffed it with shredded wrapping paper for blood and guts. There was a paper heart, liver, lungs and stomach inside, and a rolled up bed sheet for the intestines that the kids had to pull out while I timed them. Everybody went crazy and our cameraman got some pretty good pictures.
Every night we had a review game that got really creative.

First night was simple Jeopardy. Egypt night the kids were tied together at the ankle as a team and had to shuffle in a circle to different stations to answer questions. They all seemed to enjoy it, and it was really simple. I used the same sort of idea, and called my game Chasing the Dragon. Each team had to stay in a line under a blanket and answer questions. Each one right they got to take a step and the team that was the furthest in the end won the game. Another volunteer came up with a version of Double Dare, for those of you remember. The final game was a kind of scavenger hunt with kids searching for maple leaves around the camp.
Overall, the volunteers came up with some really creative activities and games for the kids. I know the kids loved it, as did we Americans. We often wanted to participate. Other activities were tie-dye, bracelets, henna, calligraphy and baseball.
Before I go on, I have to mention team points. Teams could earn points for different things in camp, the biggest being the review game at the end of each day. Now, team Japan, for all their efforts, were not the smartest bunch. From day one we were in dead last. Then, we pulled off a surprise second place win in a review game and hope was restored. The next day we proved we were the most athletic team in camp. That day was the big dodgeball tournament.
Dodgeball actually took place over two days. None of the kids knew what the game was but once the balls started flying they caught on pretty quick. It got pretty wild pretty quick and tempers soared. There were lots of people calling others out and claims of cheating, but it all went smoothly. We started with a round robin. Japan beat every taker hands down, until we got to Canada. The Canadian game was epic, but the medic (who can bring people back in) got taken out and Canada was able to clean up in the end. In the final Japan faced Canada again. Japan played a solid game and pulled out a pretty heavy victory.

That win put them in the game against the volunteers. Five volunteers went up against team Japan, myself and our ringer, Nick. The Americans managed to win the first game, due to Japan’s tiredness and their experience. Luckily, this was two out of three (mostly because the Americans wanted to keep playing). In the end, heart won out over experience and Japan took the next two games and a bonus 200 team points.
After the week was done Japan had earned enough points to take 3rd place. We were ecstatic (me most of all) and celebrated our victory (relative) with cheers of Bonzai! So many other things happened during that magical week, I can’t possibly relate them all. Know that I have not had a better time while in Kazakhstan.

Five of us had to leave a few hours early to catch a bus back to Pavlodar. As we left, there were lots of pictures and when we finally got on our bus, the tears started to flow from some kids. Then one girl got on the bus and did a walking hug tour and soon it was a stream of kids coming on to give us all hugs. It was pretty touching and we could see how much we’d touched these kids’ lives. I think all of us were a bit down as we pulled away.
Now, another story about life in Kazakhstan. We arrived at the bus station in Bayanaul an hour ahead of time, expecting that to be plenty of time to get tickets. The problem was, however, that bus stations don’t talk to each other all the time. So the Bayanaul bus station had no idea how many tickets were left and weren’t selling any. We were some of the first to arrive at the station, but as we waited at least twenty more people came. The bus ended up late and by the time it arrived people flew to its doors and there was no way to get on.

Three buses went through the station this way with no chance to buy tickets or get on. After the second bus we asked a taxi driver how much to take four of us (out of 6) to Pavlodar and he said 9000 tenge (around 80 dollars). We just laughed and walked away. After the third bus we asked again and he said 13000 tenge. Now he was laughing. We had been sitting there for over two hours at this point and some people really had to get back to the city.
Some of our guys talked to the taxi driver and he called a friend who said he’d do it for 8000 tenge but it would take him an hour and a half to get to the station. That being the only option, we agreed. Two of us were going to stay in Bayanaul the night and catch a bus the next day. We waited, wondering if this other taxi would ever show up. While waiting we tossed a baseball, met a girl who spoke English quite well and played some guitar. Another guy started waving down cars trying to get a ride into the city.

Finally a different van pulled up and we started the haggle. He didn’t want to go to Pavlodar, but he was going to another city called Icky-Bastus. He guaranteed us a bus from Icky, and if he couldn’t get one, he’d drive us from Icky to Pavlodar, and all this for 1000 tenge apiece. It was a good deal so we got on. The drive to Icky took almost two hours. From there, with help from the driver and some money in the right hands he got us on a bus to Pavlodar for another wad of cash. Thanking him, we got on and after another two hour ride made it to the city. All together it was about 8 hours to make a 3 hour trip. That’s travel in Kazakhstan.
So now I’m back at site, waiting for school to start. I realized that after such an amazing week with such great kids, sitting at home is that much more boring. I’m eager for school to start and have plans for lessons. I’ll be teaching 3rd and 4th graders as well now, which I am looking forward to very much. Hopefully the school year will fly by and before I know it, there’ll be more camps to attend. Ah, also, the Kaz-18’s are all getting ready to leave and it’s pretty crazy listening to them talk about their plans and all of that. It’s exciting for them, and I’m excited to meet this fresh crop of volunteers that arrived about a week ago that Nora is dealing with. I’ll keep you all posted.

There and Back Again...A Volunteers Tale

2008-08-09T02:24:00.000-07:00

I am back. This blog has been a long time coming, but I didn’t feel all that inspired to write it. I felt that not much had happened worth writing about, but I know that there is an ache in all your hearts for another blog update. I couldn’t leave all my fans hanging, frantic to hear more news and witty commentary about life in Kazakhstan. So here you go. Actually, no you don’t. Here goes a short update about my return trip home, and the few things that have been going on since I got back. There is another update below this one about what was going on for the few weeks before I left. Start there if you want continuity.
Lots of flying homeward, a layover in Frankfurt (worst airport in the world) and an agonizing stop in Portland and I finally was back in my mom’s arms! Hurray. They probably would prefer I didn’t mention how they weren’t right there to meet me, but instead I had to wander around looking for them, thinking they hadn’t even shown up yet. (They had, they just got turned around or something. I don’t blame them). Anyway, I won’t bore you all with specific details about my trip; I just thought I’d regale with my favorite PG rated memories.

-Making my niece cry the first time she was left alone in a room with me
-Hiking the top of Iron Peak with my brother and realizing I’m in pretty good shape
-Surprise return of Alex (that’s all I can say to keep it PG)
-Playing 4th Edition hockey (you folks won’t understand this one, so don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t understand my excitement even if you knew what hockey was).
-Making myself sick on good food my first day in America
-Trivia night, even if the “A” team lost to the “B” team
-English everywhere I looked or listened
-Hitting a couple good drives that stayed on the fairway
-Discovering the awesome music of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and Gomez
-The Dark Knight (I had a dream about it last night. That I got to see it again).

So that’s what was great about the trip. See all you guys, answering your silly questions (not all were silly) and realizing how much I had missed you guys. And I do miss you all. But I also realized that I don’t need to be in America right now. As much as I loved being back, and loved doing all the things I used to do, I discovered I didn’t need any of it. By the end, I wanted to be back in Kazakhstan, probably the greatest realization and result of my trip (besides mom hugs). I confirmed what I was already pretty sure about; I will survive the next 15 months in this silly country. Life had not changed so much in America and it lacked the excitement and daily interestingness that I find here in Kazakhstan. I get bored sitting in one place, not doing anything. By the time I left, I was spending mornings and afternoons playing computer games at the kitchen counter because I had nothing else to do. Now I’m back, and even if I’m not teaching, I’m at least speaking Russian and getting blindsided by presentations nobody told me I’d have to make. More on that below. Anyway, it was good to see you all, and it’ll be great again in a year, but for now, I’ll get on without you.

Camps out the Whazoo

2008-08-09T02:16:00.000-07:00

So whether you read this blog first or the above, you probably know that I’ve been to America and back. This entry here is about what happened before, with a few things that happened after. It’s a little hazy at this point, but I’ll give you the important details.
Baseball camp. Officially it was called a Linguistics camp, but there wasn’t all that much linguistical about it. For five days about a dozen kids would show up in the morning at my school. They came for the baseball, but constrained by the name of our camp, we were forced to do some language work. I did my best to teach some English, and used American games to practice the language they learned. Games included: Crazy Eight’s, Duck, Duck Goose, Head’s Up 7 Up (they really couldn’t get this one), and Steal the Bacon.
That was the early morning. It was all just a stall until baseball time. Baseball is an incredibly hard game to explain. Especially when you don’t speak the language fluently. What’s the infield fly rule? What does tagging up mean? What’s a pickle? These were the problems we encountered in explaining this, my counterpart and I. He didn’t understand the game either, so I would have to explain what I could in English to him, and then have him translate.
We decided the best thing to do the first day would be focus on how to throw and catch, then later hitting. The kids decided the best thing to do would be immediately start swinging away. They didn’t get what they wanted. Most Kazakhstani’s throw like girls (except for one girl that threw like a man) and many were scared of the ball, which makes baseball a very hard game to play. We went through flyers up and other games until I felt they could get the ball at least fifteen feet through the air to their partner.
As time went by over the week, they started to get the basics down. Now, my counterpart on the second day didn’t show up, so I was left on my own. It was a struggle to teach the sport and help everybody who needed help. So the next day when he again didn’t show up, I called Nora, the site mate (ex) to assist. She was amazing. She took the role of batting coach while I was the pitcher/manager. She helped out for two days and got the kids figuring out how to hit, for the most part.
By the last day, my Slava had returned and the kids understood enough to play. I felt pretty successful teaching them, and they were bummed to find out they wouldn’t get another chance to play for over a month, but I have hopes that I can get some sort of game together come fall. Before it snows. So I’ll have about two months.
Okay, other camp. Frisbee camp, which was way better. Nora organized this with a small amount of help from me. We brought in four other Peace Corps volunteers: Aaron, Mary, Justin and Nathan. All of them better than me at Frisbee. There were about 30 kids, all of them wondering what the hell a flying plate is (Frisbee’s a pretty new concept in Kazakhstan).
After an opening ceremony we headed to the park and got the kids practicing. Some of them caught on very quickly, learning the backhand then the forehand without too much of a problem. It was a little more complicated to get all the other rules down, but they managed to figure these out as well. That’s important, because technically in Ultimate, there is no referee (though we supervised the games and acted as referees). The kids learned to call their own fouls, and how to Ro-Sham-Bo to end an argument.
One of the highlights was the tie-dye shirts we made. Thanks to a generous donation from my parents who sent us a kit, we had enough supplies to make at least 50 shirts. I don’t remember if I already told this story, but in getting these fifty shirts, Nora and I made no less than 3 trips into the city. We would go to a bazaar and look for a likely vendor and ask for their smallest white shirts. Usually there were only four or five shirts, if any at all. On one occasion I went to a vendor and he took off running around the bazaar looking for shirts for me. After he came back and I bought about 20 from him, I continued my search. I’d stop somewhere and ask, and they’d already know who I was. I quickly learned that the man had completely cleaned out the bazaar and it was fruitless to keep looking at this bazaar.
Anywho, we eventually got 51 shirts (the exact number we thought we needed). Then only about 30 kids showed up and now I’m left over with 15 extra shirts. The kids spent an afternoon dying them and had a great time. Then they had to wait a couple days to unravel them and wash them out. We made a mess of the sinks in Nora’s school rinsing them out, but the result was terrific. On the last day of camp all the kids wore their shirts and we were thrilled.
That’s the long and short of that camp. It was amazing, we got our picture in the newspaper, and the kids are already asking if there will be another one next year. I tell them of course there will be, because I had as much fun as them. It was Nora’s last big mark on the village before she left to be a new volunteer trainer in Almaty.
Now, for the present day. I went to a presentation today of all teachers in the region who held summer camps. Each teacher presented their camp in hopes they would be chosen as the best and would be sent on to the oblast wide competition. Yeah! I was surprised as you all are (I hope this surprises you). Asking Slava about it, he explained that just about everything they do is turned into a competition. His theory is that it’s just a left over from Soviet times. Perhaps it’s used as a motivator, but I was disappointed with that thought. I was hoping teachers would be motivated by their own selfless hearts to do this. I’m learning more and more that things like that don’t happen. So much seems to be a competition between schools.
Anyway, I went because I thought I was presenting our Linguistics camp. I sat through two and a half hours of boring, god awful presentations. They stand at the front and read the information off their slides that are so full of text you barely notice the tiny photographs they put on them. I’m going to give a public presentation course or something so that people will learn the proper way to do it. That’s not the point of this story though. Here’s the point.
Nora’s counterpart got up and put in a CD with a presentation about the Ultimate Frisbee camp. Too my surprise, the judge then demanded that somebody who worked at the camp do the presentation. The people all turned to me. I turned around to make sure Nora hadn’t snuck in behind me. No, she hadn’t. With much encouragement I got up in front of the room and commenced a spur of the moment presentation.
It was not eloquent. It was in Russian. All by myself. If I’d had a few beers or shots of vodka I probably would have spoken much better. As it was, I got through it, quickly. The judge took my picture, I’m not entirely sure why. I was glad I had shaved that morning though.
My linguistic camp presentation involved Slava do all the talking until it got to explaining baseball. This was my explanation. “Two teams, nine players each. One team hits the ball, the other team catches it. You run around bases.” They all seemed satisfied with it, but I doubt we won. When it was all over I treated myself to an ice cream for a job well done and headed home.
Since I’ve been back my days typically involve sleeping until 10 o’clock, waking up and playing the Sims 2 and reading my books until 1. I eat lunch, read some more, study some Russian, read Russian history and play more computer games or watch TV shows and movies on my computer or television. It’s lazy. It’s boring, but it’ll hold me over until school starts. Don’t expect another update until it does. I have another camp I’m traveling to at the end of August, but other than that, not much is going on.
Now scroll up if you want to read the goodness of coming home.

The Value of Family

2008-06-13T04:27:00.000-07:00

The most important thing, I believe, in the Peace Corps experience is to have a good family. The times you struggle the most are when you feel alone and the distance between you and your loved ones seems insurmountable. Loneliness is the biggest problem for volunteers, and is likely what sends the most packing within the first six months. That being said, if you find a family that you can connect with you are likely to survive your time in country.
The family has to provide more than just a room to sleep in and 3 meals a day. They have to provide conversation, entertainment, a sympathetic ear and all the things that make a family a family. They have to be totally inclusive. Let me join in with the choirs, the house projects, the excursions! Now, after seven months at site, I think I’ve finally found that.
My new family, though I’ve only lived with them a few days, are already doing great things for my morale. I wasn’t always unhappy with my first family in Zhelezinka, but I was never really happy. I was renting a room there. I wasn’t family, at least not completely, not at home. Moving in with Tanya and Slava was a big step up for me. I was family there, Uncle Jeff. But I always knew that it was temporary, so I never felt completely immersed.
Now I am living with a family of three. My sister, Sasha, has just finished school and will be moving to the city (that’s Pavlodar) in August. She will be going to a medical college there. We had a discussion how it’s possible for people to buy diplomas for about $1000 (though thankfully doctors aren’t able to buy theirs). My grandma, Baba Lena, is retired and will also be returning to the city where she has an apartment in August or September. That will leave just me and mama Lena, who works at a gas station in the mini mart. I slightly worry that the dynamic will shift a lot with this, but I get along really well with my new host mom that I’m not going to lose sleep over it.
My new family, as I’ve said already, lives in a very nice apartment in a great location in town. I’ve already had 2 banya’s in 5 days (though this has been an exception due to visitors), painted a fence with mom and sis, and watched plenty of movies dubbed into Russian on TV. I spend more time involved with the family instead of sitting in my room with my computer (though that’s what I’m currently doing).
My room is getting all set up with pictures on the wall, though one keeps falling. It’s a picture of Randy though, so it’s probably weighed down by all the dork. It’s left a big dork stain where it normally is though, so I know I’m still looking at Randy. Sorry, that was a personal aside; most of you will probably be confused. Until you meet Randy.
Aaaaanyway…Life is very good. Next week begins the first of two summer camps that will lead me right up to my trip home. Oh yeah, I remembered something I wanted to say to y’all. I get the feeling that if I had moved in with this family from the beginning, first of all it would have been awesome, and second of all, I might not have felt the massive need for this trip home. That may make some of you very sad, especially the ones that are paying of my credit card bill, but hey, I bought my ticket already, so I’m going to use it.
Alright, that’s that for this post. I just wanted to offer that insight for any of you reading this and considering Peace Corps (or preparing to go). Find a terrific family. Don’t settle for something less that amazing, because they will help you so much in your time here. It took me 6 months to learn this, so take advantage of my great wisdom before you become quagmired.

Toilet Sweet Toilet

2008-06-04T02:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, just a quick update for all you folks dying to know what happens next in this exciting saga:

I have found a family, I am moving in on Saturday. All contracts have been signed, my room has been picked out and the indoor toilet has been tested (not really, sorry Randy). The family are three women, three generations. The youngest was a student at my school, but she didn't study English, she chose that silly Germanic language...German. She just graduated and is heading off to some medical university, not sure where though. Her mother is single and works and Grandma is visiting for the summer but then will go back to Pavlodar where she has an apartment. So, after the summer, it will be me and mom. I've been warned that there may very well be gossip, but I shouldn't let it worry me. Plus, Nora has found me a Kazakh wife, so that should shut up all the Nosy Nancies.

It seems like a good quiet house, in a good neighborhood much more central than before. There are shops nearby, my commute to Nora's is cut in half and I'm not all that far from school. This neighborhood is apparently where all the old Communist bosses used to live, and now it's filled with various directors and hospital managers and the like, so basically the same people.

That's all the real big news as of late. The countdown has begun for when I'm coming back, we're under a month now. I'm extremely excited about it, but I also decided it's not something I need as much as I felt I did before. This last month or so I've been in a really good mood and feel much more comfortable with this village. Peace Corps has their charts with all the ups and downs PCV's go through during service, mentally, and at first I laughed at it, but now I realize it's pretty accurate. I've had months that I'm down in the dumps, depressed, missing home (and it's shown in my posts I"m sure), and now I've hit a peak again. Everybody says that after 9 months in the country, things are generally all pretty good. Language is really good, you're making friends, and it's not winter anymore. Don't feel that I don't need you folks anymore, cause I still do, but I'm pretty sure I can survive two years here.

Alright, well that's that for now. My next post will include some pictures of my new family, the house and all that good stuff. Look forward to seeing all of you, it's gonna be quite the wild time I'm pretty sure. Until then, take care.

Time on My Hands Now

2008-05-26T09:06:00.000-07:00

Today was the final bell that marked the end of this school year. Hurray! A very big hurray! I’ve finished my first year of school. I got through the English Clubs, Teachers Meetings, Classes and various other events without losing any fingers or toes!
Looking back on my year, I definitely see room for improvement. I can spend more time making sure my students are engaged in the material and are really learning it, not just regurgitating the lesson. End of the year testing I think reflects as much on the teacher as it does on the students, and most students did not do as well as I’d hoped they would.
I think overall though, it was a good experience and I’m going to consider it warm up. I only spent 6 months at this school instead of the full 9 (the first three months were at my training site). Next year I will have the entire school year, from first bell to last, to work with my students and perfect their English…or at least get them all to say Good Afternoon instead of Good Morning at all times of the day.
Slava, my counterpart, is no longer going to be a zavuch (vice principle) because the Education Department doesn’t think our school needs two. He’s happy with the decision because now he can take more classes. He tells me that he will work with the elementary students (those are the cute 3rd and 4th graders) and younger grades. I’m excited about this because I enjoy those kids and am eager to work with them as well. He’s also going to take more of the younger grades, 6-8th, which I also enjoy.
Let me switch it around and tell you about this final bell ceremony. As you can guess based on previous posts, it was an event marked by music and speeches. The graduating 11th graders paraded out of the school in their uniforms to rhythmic clapping and stood beneath their balloon arch. Various speeches about the end of school and taking the next step were given by teachers and administrators. The 10th graders and 1st graders both made presentations to the 11th graders. It was actually fairly similar to an American graduation, except it was also a ceremony for the younger grades.
There was another ceremony inside the school where the 11th graders sang songs to thank their teachers. This was the time for tears! Oh man, it was like watching sprinklers go off in a line. The first girl started crying, then those next to her joined in, and it continued down the line. Hopefully they were all happy tears.
Sadly, for the 11th graders, their school isn’t over yet. They have another week of consultations with teachers as they prepare for their big exam, the ENT. Every student takes this and is tested in the typical academic subjects plus one of their choosing. Only one kid is doing English, but that’s fairly normal. This test decides their academic future, even more than our SAT’s do. Depending on the subject you choose you will enter your field of study and get a job based on that.
Anyway, that’s on June 2nd, and their final graduation ceremony where they get certificates is on June 20th. I imagine they’re all fairly nervous.
Now I’ve got about three weeks to sit around, trying to think of things to do. On the 15th I have an English camp here in Zhelezinka where I will attempt to teach baseball. On the 23rd our Frisbee camp begins which is pretty exciting. Right after that, I’m coming back to you guys! August will be my slow month, with much sitting around. All throughout summer I will also be running English Clubs as normal, so that’s at least something to keep me busy.
Lastly, I have found a new host family. I will be moving in with them on the 1st. Highlights include: cows (no geese), chickens, sheep, a summer kitchen, running water (no indoor toilet though), a live in grandma and grandpa and another wild toddler (though this one seems quieter). They seem like a friendly and warm family. There will be the before mentioned grandparents and baby, plus the mom and her brother. I imagine this will work out much better than my last family, I’ve got faith.
That’s all I have for you guys. My brother is planning a big bash including soccer and BBQ to which everybody is invited. I’ll get anybody interested my new mailing address once I know what it is. See you all in July.

Potato Stories

2008-05-19T02:44:00.000-07:00

It’s amazing how much perspectives can change in a short time. 18 months doesn’t seem that long when you’re living with fun, entertaining people. 43 days seems like forever when you’re waiting to see people you love and miss. And 50 potato holes don’t seem like much when you have hundreds more to dig…
Last weekend was potato planting time in Zhelezinka! There are fields that spread out over the step, tilled by the government and sold to families and organizations that need somewhere to plant their potatoes. I didn’t know what I had gotten myself into when I piled into the car with Slava, his wife Tanya, best friend Sasha and Sasha’s mother, Vera. We had a trailer with several sacks of potatoes, four shovels and some buckets.
The trip was over dirt roads that remind you of the 25 cent massage beds in cheap motels. After a short search among fields, looking for our specific plot of dirt, we pulled up next to a strip of dirt that looked like any other to me, but Tanya assured me we got stuck with bad dirt! The nerve of these people! Giving US bad dirt.
There were people all over the place, digging small holes and tossing chunks of potato into them. That day at school many students were absent, and excused, because they were planting potatoes. The process is pretty simple, but the more people you have the better. At least two people are required, and three makes it twice as fast.
The first person starts to dig small holes in a straight row. A woman, typically, follows with a bucket of potatoes, tossing them into the holes. Another man follows, digging new holes and tossing the dirt into the first hole. Potatoes are also thrown in his hole. In our case, we had three men so I came last, making the third line and filling the second holes. It was pretty efficient and I was impressed. The first day we worked about 3 hours, until we ran out of potatoes. I wasn’t feeling too tired, and didn’t think it was too bad.
The next day we went out to the fields at 9 am. There were even more people, and this time we were planting Sasha and Vera’s plot. It was wider than the first one, which made the work harder. We continued the process as before, and after a few hours my forearms were really starting to kill. We took a lunch break: tea, hard boiled eggs, pickles, cucumbers, radishes etc and then set back to it. It was a six hour day and by the end I was pretty beat.
We probably planted over 1000 potatoes. I imagine I personally dug over 300 holes. I also managed to get a slight sunburn, though Slava and Sasha, who didn’t use my sunscreen, got it a lot worse. I enjoyed the work though, being outside in the nice weather and being able to mostly zone out during the work. In August I’m going back to dig them up, which I’m told is a lot more work…
I’m in my final two weeks living with Slava and his family. Peace Corps wants me moved out, but family searching is not going so well. Apparently there are some families out there that want to host me, I just need to visit their houses with Slava some time and see my options. I looked at an apartment for rent, where I would be living alone, but it doesn’t look like it will work out.
I pay 20,000 tenge a month to families to stay with them. That includes food, rent, utilities etc. The man wanted 18,000 just for rent, and I would have to buy furniture, utensils etc. Tanya figured it would cost about an entire months pay (40,000 tenge) to get settled in, and then 25,000 to 30,000 every month, something I can’t afford. Other problems would be the loneliness. Living alone I would not have somebody to talk to every day like I do here. My Russian would suffer and I think homesickness would be much worse. Finally, Tanya warned me that some of the dumber people in the village, when finding out there was an American living alone, would come and vandalize my apartment, throwing rocks through the windows and things like that, so it’s better if I don’t live alone.
That said I never really wanted to that much. In Seattle, I might enjoy my own apartment, but I can always go visit someone and hang out, or they can come to me. My friends here are still pretty limited, and we only hang out in the space we see each other regularly. I have my soccer friends that I play soccer with, I have teacher friends I see at school and I have Nora’s friends that I mooch whenever Nora and I hang out with her friends.
That’s all that’s new in life here, as far as I know. I’m counting down the days until I get to see you guys. Now that I have bought a ticket, thoughts of home occupy a lot of my time. We’re also getting all the work done for our various camps we have coming up, which should keep me somewhat busy in June. It’s the last week of school and everybody is getting a bit antsy, this guy included.

The Little Rascals and More

2008-05-09T20:01:00.000-07:00

Mark your calendars everybody. July 2nd to July 19th. I’m coming home! I’m hopping on three planes and spending 24 hours to arrive in Seattle (still on July 2nd). I’ve got some plans already in motion, others still in planning phase. I have a feeling my time will be scarce though, so book me in advance, and I don’t take personal checks.
Okay, that’s covered. Other news. First off, fishing. I went fishing when I first arrived here, in the winter. That was okay, but really cold. I have now discovered that fishing in the spring and summer is no different, except it’s a bit warmer. There’s no reel on the poles here, so you just kind of toss it out there and watch it drift back towards you, hoping the fish think the corn kernels and seeds are more appetizing than they appear. I went with four of my students: Albert, Dima, Sasha and Dasha (the token girl).
We met up at the school at o dark 30, fishing poles slung over our shoulders, and trekked out to the river in the morning twilight. I pictured myself walking along with Spanky and the gang, and wishing I had had a river or lake nearby my house that I could walk to through fields as I grew up.
Sadly, we didn’t catch a thing, though the kids claim there were some nibbles, I somewhat doubt it. After awhile fishing degenerated into wresting matches and throwing contests. I easily won the wrestling contest (I almost weighed as much as all three combined). It was a really good time, and I feel that I bonded with my kids. They also managed to get my phone number out of me, so they have called me almost everyday. “Can Mr. Whitehill come out and play?” Not today kids, he’s got grown up things to do.
Frisbee has also been catching on here lately. Nora and I (mostly Nora) have put together a Frisbee camp for the end of June, and so we brought them out to show off. I’ve got to say, I’m pretty sure my kids will dominate this camp. They’ve got the form, the energy and the can do attitude! Though, as Nora pointed out, they are also tiny. Some of my 7th graders look like 5th graders. But that’s okay cause the Little Rascals taught us that it’s heart that really matters.
Other things: holidays. In traditional Kazakhstani style, the latest holidays have been celebrated with singing, dancing and costumes. There was the 1st of May celebration, which was a cultural show. Schools and other organizations were given a culture to represent that lives in Zhelezinka. They came in costume, sang traditional songs and dance and occasionally food. My school represented the Caucuses (white people). The winners of that portion were the Ukrainians, who had recently bought new costumes and danced every chance they could get, showing them off.
The other events were fitness competitions. The first was jump roping and my (ex) host sister Ramzea dominated that with 115 jumps in one minute. Most people couldn’t finish the minute, so props to her, I didn’t know she had it in her. The next was lifting a weight over your head as many times as you can in a minute. I was tossed in to help represent our school. I pulled off a gentleman’s 26 lifts. The winner did 63, but I’m pretty sure he was juicing. I asked for a drug test, but no dice. I won for the most laughs though, because on my 27th lift, I tried to sneak my left arm in there to help. You should have been there, it was hilarious. On paper, not so much. The final event was tug-o-war, which our school was terrible at, but we won one match by forfeit, which was enough for us to get 2nd place overall in the entire competition!
There have been two other holidays in quick succession here as well. Young soldiers’ day, which, as you can imagine, involves the older students dressing up in uniform and parading around. There was a chemical weapons suit relay race, another race carrying a girl around, marching and shouting contests. Our school managed to get 1st place in this competition. This was followed by singing and people laughing as a small child tried to drag his brother out of the middle of the circle.
Finally, today, 9th of May: Victory Day. World War II is still a massive event over here. With the millions of Soviet soldiers that fought in the war, every village, no matter how small, has dozens of men who fought, and plenty that died in the Great War. They honor their soldiers greatly here, as incredible heroes. The day began at 10 o’clock at my school with a service to honor the village hero, Babin, who has a statue in front of our school. It moved onto the park, where there was another ceremony. I didn’t get to watch this though, since I was on the soccer team.
Earlier this week, soccer season started, and it’s been pretty good. I have become pretty rusty, and I’ve got a list of excuses why I’m not playing as good as I am…and here they are: horrible bumpy fields, 8 months since I’ve played, no jerseys to distinguish players, bugs, lack of vocabulary for soccer. I think they’re all pretty good excuses. I’m getting better every time though, and once I get enough practice, everybody will be happy again.
Anyway, there was a big 11 on 11 match at the park today. I was put on the team with 3rd school, in the small blue uniform. It was a good game, and I played my best yet (uniforms, better field, a little practice earlier) and had a good time. I didn’t appreciate being put at midfield though, and being told to constantly run back and support our 6 players defending two of theirs. It didn’t make sense, but who am I to argue? In Russian. Our team ended up winning 4-2, and I didn’t do anything to amazing, but I didn’t make any big mistakes either, so hurray for that!

The day ended with a bbq back at my house. Slava invited a couple locals over and Nora came as well. We BBQ's Shashlik (meat kabobs), had salad and played frisbee. It felt very American, except for the Russian pop music playing in the background. It was a really good time, and very relaxing. I can tell you more about it when I see you in July though.
That’s going to end this update, except for a few quick notes: I bought pointy slip on shoes because I lost my old ones, so now I look more Kazakhstani. Summer seems to finally have arrived. We had snow on the 3rd, but today it’s 30 degrees Celsius (that’s pretty hot). I’m still looking at for a host family to take me in permanently; I’ve got two lined up to look at next week. School is going well, but it’s all turned pretty lazy as the end of the year gets near. That’s all; see most or at least some of you in about two months. Take care until then.

On the Street

2008-04-20T21:47:00.000-07:00

First thing you all get to hear about: my living situation. Do to a "disagreement" (those are some pretty big quotation marks, and very sarcastic) with my host mom over money issues, I have been moved out of my original host family and am living with my counterpart for now. His house is great, he's got cable, internet, indoor toilet etc. My host mom and I are no longer speaking, which I don't regret much at all. The rest of the host family, at least sister and cousins who I've talked to all seem to still think I"m pretty cool. It was a bad living situation though, and it got worse and worse, so I'm glad to be out of there, and I'm looking for a new family. Slava has told me repeatedly that I can stay with him, his wife and daughter as long as I like, so I'm going to do that until I find a family I really enjoy. I would live with Slava permanently if his daughter, who is 2 (and they don't call them the terribles for nothing), didn't decide it was fun to wake me up at 7.30 or earlier every morning.
His wife thinks I'm the funniest guy, and tells me when I came the first time it was like talkign to a 3 year old. Now I'm somewhere in the preteen, adolescent years. Soon I'll be rebellious, staying out late without calling, listening to strange music in my room, dating and all that good stuff. Anyway, it's a really entertaining time in general, so I'm not complaining.

In othew news, it was Nora's birthday on the 13th and I celebrated with her and her friends in a cafe. We had a nice feast, a good amount of drinking and then dancing. The night started all about Nora, with toasts and presents. But once the dancing started, it was all about Darin! He was king of the dance floor. He would have been perfectly at home had there been multicolored tiles flashign on the floor and the Beegees playing in the background. He had all the hot 70's dance moves down, while most of the rest of us (including women) did the awkward white guy shuffle. You know you're in trouble when you realize you've been stealing dance moves off the worst dancer in the room, and he's been doign the same to you. The whole night was a pretty big success though, I enjoyed it.

Now, there are rumors going around about me coming back sometime in July to visit and all that good stuff. I want to say, once and for all, they are totally true. It was an idea for awhile in my head, and it grew and grew until I just had to come home. I couldn't wait any longer, I miss her so much. You know... the Italian BMT from Subway. I've gotta have it. So I"m coming back, eating my sandwhich and visiting with whoever I can between trips to Subway. I should be around for 2 to 3 weeks, starting in early July. When I get my plane tickets, I'll let you know. Here is a short list to tide y'all over of my plans as of today:

1) The BMT
2) Family time
3) Soccer Tennis
4) Hockey (4 ed)
5) American Football (no, it's not like rugby)
6) Lean...Extra Lean Steak
7) Go to the movies
8) Camping/Hiking
9) Cocktail Carousel adn CoD2
10) Ragazzi and Pizza Bank

The list goes on, I"ve written more, but maybe I'll save it for a later post. For now, take care all of you, see you in a few months.

The Long Awaited Nauryz Update (and I do mean long)

2008-04-02T21:04:00.000-07:00

A week and a half away from my site and suddenly its spring when I get back. Most of the snow is gone, you can go around in a t-shirt and shorts and there’s even the tiniest bit of green in places. My mood, which was pretty black and blue for awhile, has skyrocketed into the atmosphere. I went for a run; I hung around in our yard talking to Galiya (host mom) and just enjoyed the gorgeous weather. There doesn’t seem to be a single sour note in my life right now. I think I owe most of that to the awesome vacation I took, so I’ll talk about that now. I hope you’re all comfortable, this is a long one. Take your bathroom breaks now, cause we're not stopping.
Let me start off by saying that this vacation was fantastic. Vacations in general are fantastic, but this one was exceptional. It may have been because I was in such a funk leading up to it, but also I think that in general there was a lot of funness about it. I’ll give you a quick rundown, and then fill in the middle with some good stories.
I took a train ride down to Shymkent, which is called the Texas of Kazakhstan because it’s so wild and corrupt. Sort of a Wild West thing I understand. 86 volunteers descended on the city for a few days and caused havoc, drank and enjoyed the Kazakhstani hospitality and New Years. I was only there for a day and a half, and then we hopped a bus to Almaty where I had training and seminars for a few days. I spent a couple days with my host family from training then headed back North. That’s the short of it, now for the long.
I rode the train down with Nora, Andrew and Jeffrey OCAP. Andrew is another Kaz-18, Jeffrey OCAP is another volunteer that came with me to Kazakhstan and is working with a small organization helping disabled children. And speaking of children, we were stuck on what seemed to be the small, loud, children’s wagon of the train. There was a ridiculous number of kids running and climbing on the train, and they seemed to especially love kicking my feet which hang over the edge of my little bed. It was getting better until the toy lady came through the train with a bag of loud, obnoxious toys for sale. Of course grandpa had to buy some for his grandchildren, and from then on it was constant electronic bleeping and blooping.
Anyway, the train ride was mostly uneventful besides the little monkeys, but once people learned that Nora can speak Kazakh, and also very good Russian, lots of people wanted to talk. She spent an hour taking to our conductor about the typical conversation pieces: how much money people make in the states, corruption, families etc. I sat and listened, maybe speaking a couple times when a question was directed directly to me. That was redundant.
Besides the conductor, there were just a couple other people that did a little chatting. We had a four hour layover in Astana, in which I didn’t realize the train was actually going to leave for those four hours. I got off in my basketball shorts and my fleece, thinking I could get back on and put my pants on if I got cold. It pulled away, and we decided to head into the city. This is at 11 pm maybe. We go wandering, and I’m attracting more than my share of strange looks. One woman looked at me and exclaimed “Aren’t you cold!” I told her no, but that was a lie. There was still snow on the ground.
We made it into a trendy café, looking very out of place. I ordered some sort of vegetable thing and a fanta, then Andrew and I spent the next 45 minutes playing tabletop soccer, or whatever he called it. When it closed we wandered back to the train station and killed time. We played every mind numbing game we could think of and eventually the train came back and we piled on and zonked out until 10 or 11 the next day.
Shymkent was the site of a massive invasion of Americans. Eighty-six Peace Corps Volunteers descended on this beautiful city in Southern Kazakhstan. For three nights or possibly more they scattered to various bars and cafes and commenced to “get their groove on.” I think this is a much needed vacation for everybody, and a chance to cut loose. And many people did cut loose and probably even drifted out to sea a bit. I had no part in this. My biggest adventure from Shymkent was an ocean of beer, though not as in a vast amount of it. Let me explain.
I and some friends decided we wanted to sit at an outdoor café and partake in the local beer, originally named Shymkentian (translated). We found what appeared to be a suitable place, namely it was outside and it had beer. We scooted a couple tables together and assembled an assortment of chairs around them. The woman came up and we ordered a few beers and some munchy treats. In Kazakhstan, if you drink but don’t eat anything, even if it’s little flavored croutons, it’s extremely strange. The woman brought out two beers and went back for the rest. I, being the gentleman I am, offered to taste test the first batch. A mistake.
I was parched and starving for a beer after hearing about all the fun I had missed out on the last couple nights, so I took a big long drink, eyes closed rapturously. As I drank, rapturous eyes turned into squinty, confused and slightly disgusted eyes. I swallowed, opened my eyes and slowly set the beer down. “Something is wrong,” I simply said. All of those with beers in their hands immediately froze, cold mugs already tilted towards their mouths. “The beer…is salty!”
I took another sip to confirm, that in fact, the beer tasted like salt water. Others sampled, and we all agreed, this was not natural beer. We called the woman back and attempted to explain the situation. We wanted new beers that didn’t taste like they were made with salt water. Other theories involving bodily fluids were proposed, and confirmed in my mind when the woman refused to taste the beer. After much arguing we finally got our free beers which tasted normal. Only a brave few of us would continue with the drinking however, and we turned out to be the unwise few, because the next batch again was salty, though not as much. Perhaps the woman was all tapped out…Anyway, we moved on.
The other big event at Shymkent was the Kazakh New Year, Nauryz. Many volunteers found their way over to the large hippodrome (it’s for horses, not hippos) on the afternoon of the 22nd. It was a regular street festival throughout the place. There was dancing exhibitions, parachutists, singing, street BBQ and other forms of entertainment. We wandered about, taking in what we could. We all agreed the local plof (rice with meat and carrots) was the best we’d had in Kazakhstan. Then we found a seat in the bleachers to watch the games.
This was a nice part because the people down south typically seem to be friendlier than those up north. Maybe it was the beer going around the stands, but people seemed much more open and talkative. I sat next to a man who had come with his family, and we stroke up a conversation about the sports and traditions along with my buddy Matthew. He helped to explain the rules of the games, which were all somewhat simple.
There was first traditional races, which were run by younger children on bareback horses. They were lighter than the men and so could go faster and their horses could keep up longer. The first race I saw one child fell off at the very beginning and nearly got trampled by the horse behind him. Other people also fell, often at high speeds, and the ambulance was kept busy. Intense and dangerous games, but that’s why children don’t play the game…or do.
My personal favorite was the kissing game. I man and a woman take off on separate horses and the man is charged with catching up to the girl and planting a big wet one on her lips at full gallop. The entire time the girl is allowed to whip him, slap him or whatever to avoid the kiss. If the man fails, she gets to ride back whipping him the length of the course. More often than not the woman won, to the delight of all the feminists sitting around us.
There was horse wrestling, in which two shirtless and macho men fought to throw each other from the saddle. Apparently tactics can be quite brutal, like using your horse as a ram to knock over the other mans horse and pin him beneath. Most of the time it was just a lot of shoving and pulling. This wasn’t as fun because we were far off and it was difficult to see.
Finally came the big game: Kokpar. This game came be played between teams or on an individual basis, but the game is the same. There is a pre-prepared headless sheep carcass in the middle of the field. At either end are two raised circular pits. Men on horseback fight to pick up the carcass while on horseback, that race toward the pits and toss it in. In the meantime the other players beat him and thrash him, grab his horse and do whatever they can to stop him. This can often end in broken bones, cuts, blindness and the occasional trampling, but this seemed pretty tame. Nobody had to be carted off that I saw, and I have no idea who won, but it was a good time to watch and cheer for whoever had the carcass.
It was over 80 degrees Fahrenheit that day and I managed to work out a pretty good sunburn (before I found a newspaper hat to put on. Everybody was wearing them). It was actually really amazing. Coming south on the train you could see the snow fading away alongside the tracks and slowly this strange greenness seeped into the ground. We eventually recognized it as the long lost grass that nobody up north has seen for months. It was a delight to step off the train and smell…freshness. The smell of grass and green in general was amazing to our senses and I couldn’t get enough of it.
Besides grass the south had another thing going for it: fresh fruits and vegetables. They were everywhere and they didn’t cost an arm and a leg. Mom, I like cucumber now. It’s great. It’s delicious. I can’t get enough of it now. Now that I’m back north, I’ll have to wait until July and August to get it again, but it’ll be a fantastic two months when I do.
That’s the big events from Shymkent. Two pages covering two days. I spent the next five days in Almaty, but don’t worry, it shouldn’t take five pages. Some of what happened may have to be edited for content but you guys can get the good stuff still. Most volunteers headed to the bus station together and practically rented an entire bus for ourselves, though a few Kazakhstani’s managed to slip on, though I’m sure they regretted it within a few minutes when nothing could be heard over the babble of English.
The bus was an overnight bus and easily 4/5 seats were filled by American volunteers. The first couple hours was endless babble that slowly drifted into snores and soft murmuring. The bus driver, once we all shut up, but on Rambo IV. It was in Russian, and I didn’t even realize it was a new movie for a long time. I also should mention that there is a young man among us volunteers with the incredible name of Rambo (last name Shootz actually) and he didn’t much appreciate seeing the movie. Didn’t do him enough credit or something like that. Anyway, most of the trip was spent snuggled up to your seat mate (mine was Matthew) trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one that spent all of the next day trying to work out kinks and pains in shoulders, neck and back.
Upon arrival in Almaty, Matthew and I made our way back to Kaskelen to spend the day with our training host families. It was my sister’s, Karolina, birthday. It was only 10 am when we got there, so of course she wasn’t up yet. We hung out in my kitchen and talked to my host mom until people started showing up. We spent a good amount of time chatting and telling everything that’s been going on with us the past four months. It was a great time and I practiced my Russian until my tongue was dry.
Matthew made the remark that it’s incredible how these folks can celebrate every single birthday or holiday in the exact same way, with a big family dinner. There are always toasts, and they typically follow a set pattern, though I deviated by getting myself completely confused about what I was trying to say, so I’m sure everybody else followed perfectly. It was a good time, but in the evening we had to head to Kazakhstan Sanitarium for our conference.
I won’t bore you with all the details of this seminar. Basically, it was a time for Volunteers to come together after there first four months at site and do one serious thing: Bitch. And lots of it. Ugh, my counterpart is insane! My host family abuses me! I get stalked by random guys! You could go to any conversation the first day or two and hear basically the same thing coming from every mouth. Let me tell you, this was very, very reassuring. To know I’m not alone in my problems is a huge comfort.
It was also inspiring though. Once all the bitch was out of our system, we could get down to business. What works in your classes? How do you control the little monkeys? How do you reconcile yourself to the grading system? For three days all of these ideas were tossed around and everybody came away with a few new good ideas. Besides that, it inspired me to think that I can always be doing a better job. Intermingled with all of that business was information about summer camps, getting shots and medical advice from Doctor Victor and all that other nitty gritty.
Now let me tell you about evenings in Sanitarium Kazakhstan. Awesome. Simply amazing. There was beer, vodka and wine. There was a computerized version of Risk (Alex, I know you like the dice, but some of the rules in this version are so much better), there was toasting in the bathroom, there was guitar playing, there was Jackie dancing to music only she could hear, and there was slurred conversation straight from the heart (which we all agree is probably the best type). That’s all you folks need to know about that.
My last couple days were spent again with my host family, but getting to them was a bit of an adventure. First of all, my first attempt to go buy a train ticket back to Pavlodar ended up me realizing I had forgot my passport. Peace Corps gave us these great, Kazakhstani government issued, certified ID cards that are good for absolutely nothing except showing people how your name is spelled in Russian. The woman at the train station refused to take it, so I had to go back and get my passport and go it again. At this point, I was stuck with a seat on the wall of the train, but we’ll get to that in a bit.
My ticket wasn’t until Saturday night, and they were kicking us out of the Sanitarium on Friday, so I had to make my way to my host families again to spend the night. I thought, “Hey, I’m an experienced Kazakhstan traveler with a good command of the language, I can do this!” I couldn’t. Buses in Almaty are stupid. They are impossible to figure out. I got to my first destination where I hoped to find another bus to take me to another bus station from there, and thought I had. I guess it was going in the wrong direction and I ended up in a ghetto somewhere up in the hills. I got off where I could see another bus and stood, blending in perfectly with the dark skinned, black haired Kazakhstani’s who did not at all stare at me standing on the side of the road with two bulging bags handing off me. I took this bus to what I thought was another bus station (not the one I wanted) and the guy confirmed my guess. I got off. I couldn’t find the actual bus station. I wandered the streets for awhile until I finally got tired and approached a taxi.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks me.
“Sairan.”
“1000 Tenge”
I laugh at this point. “No way” I say.
“How much do you think?”
“400.” That’s pretty much on the high end.
“My friend, this place is very far. 800 Tenge”
“How about 700?” My desperation is starting to show.
“800?”
“Fine whatever.” We get in his cab and head out. Every twenty feet he stops to ask another person if they want a ride. We start to chat. It’s the typical conversations you have with people here. We talk about his car and about my car. How much do cars cost in America? How much money would he make in America? I tell him the middle income salary for a year. Nobody in this country will do the math themselves, dividing that number by 12 to figure out the monthly income. They always have to ask. I’m too lazy to do it exactly, so I say some general number, which as I think about turns out to be about 10,000 dollars to much, but he’s pretty impressed.
We talk about the girls, and I’m pretty sure I learned some dirty words at this point, but wasn’t really following that close. We talk about the heat, about how expensive Moscow is, how beautiful Almaty is and all of that. Along the way we pick up a pair of guys, not too far from where I got on. They get in and say “We’re going to so and so, and we aren’t paying more than 200 Tenge.” The driver quickly agrees, as I think to myself, this place better be really close, because otherwise I got screwed. By the time I got out of the cab, they had driven almost as far as me, and weren’t at their destination yet. To add salt to the wound, the taxi driver tells me as he pulls my bags out of the trunk that when I catch a cab to Kaskelen, don’t pay more that 200 Tenge. It’s at least as far to Kaskelen as it was to this bus station. That’s what I get for being a rich American I guess.
Okay, so I get to Kaskelen, I spend another day and a half, that wasn’t as exciting but still very relaxing. I saw a few more people I didn’t get a chance to talk to on Monday when we first arrived, I go to somebody else’s birthday dinner and get lots of compliments about my Russian. When Saturday night rolls around, I was expecting another big send off at the station with Karolina, Zhenya and whoever else will fit in the car. Instead, I get a ride with my host brother Vasa and his two buddies.
More colorful conversation. Vasa’s two friends pointed out the street where all the hookers used to stand. Apparently the police cracked down on them though. This has forced all the poor hookers to move inside the cafes, that way nobody can see them. Now their pimps stand on the corners. So you either have to talk to these guys or make the long trek up the sidewalk and into a café to find love by the hour.
The train ride back was another one of my highlights of the trip, as well. The only bad part was I was on the wall of the train. The way these cars are set up, there are four beds (two bunk beds) in a group, where your feet are towards the wall and your feet stick out into the aisle. Then there is a bunk beds on the opposite wall in which you lay lengthwise, framed by two walls. They are exactly six feet long. I am exactly bigger than six feet. I don’t fit too well. That led to much tossing and turning during the night. That was the bad part. The great part was all the people I talked to.
The first group was led by a very talkative (in English!!!!!) young man, probably about my age. His group were in a school training to be detectives, in a city called Karaganda. They were on their way back from a competition in Almaty with the Kazakhstan version of the CIA. The talkative guy got first place apparently, and the one girl in the group got second. I talked to all of them a bunch and they were very friendly. We shared food and played cards, and that first night apparently kept folks up until about midnight, when the conductor told us to go to bed.
The boys in the group kept asking me how beautiful I thought the girl was and that I could bride-nap her if I want. They claim they were jokes, but I know I was a bit uncomfortable and I’m guessing the girl was as well. Turns out she’s from Pavlodar, and I thought she was riding all the way back with me there, but she ended up getting off at Karaganda too.
The second day grew into a giant group of people. I will identify them as I first saw them: the big, talkative Kazakh man (here on out BTK), loud obnoxious teenage punks (LOTP), three very attractive Kazakh girls (VAK’s) and a small family (small family). The first to approach me was BTK. He has a daughter studying in Houston and had lots of questions and advice for me. He asked if I spoke any Kazakh. Let me tell you, these people love you if all you can say is hello and thank you (which is all I can say). He told me I was his son now. Our conversation was completely in Russian (except Hello and Thank You) and he was a pretty funny guy. A little crazy, which added to his charm. He initiated the talking and pulled in all the others.
The next to get sucked in was VAK 1. She came and sat down and talked to me, a little in English. This is basically a huge turn on for any American struggling with the language. We chatted for a few minutes and I asked her what institute or university she studied at in Pavlodar. She let me know she was a 10th grader in high school still. Oh. Awesome. It was somewhere along this time that LOTP and VAK’s 1 and 2 got on. Seeing the additional VAK’s, I was sure they had to be in college.
I’m going to keep you in suspense though and talk about the LOTP’s for now. They were aged 10 to 17 maybe. They got on the train, took off their shirts and turned on their music. They climbed on their bunks and did a bunch of loud talking. They made kissy noises at the VAK’s. I immediately didn’t like them. When we pulled into Astana station, we had a 40 minutes break there. Speaking of break (see how I did that), the LOTP turned out to be a break dancing group. Something I hadn’t expected to see on my trip was a group of kid’s break dancing on the station floor in Astana in the middle of the night.
They were really pretty good and gave us all a good show. They collected money, took it into the nearby shop and bought a bunch of junk food. My favorite part was the woman who was clearly a mom (or drunk, they’re often hard to tell apart at competitions) who was cheering really loud and at one point ran out and gave the youngest a kiss on the cheek. She was very enthusiastic. After that, the LOTP, or at least the “cool” ones, wanted to talk to the American too. I found out they were coming back from a competition as well and had taken 1st place nationwide in a break dancing competition. Pretty impressive.
After Astana, basically a ring formed around me of people wanting to talk to the American. I was sitting on my wall seat. BTK was across from me with a few other older folks. VAK 1 was in her upper bunk, leaning out into the aisle to get a good view, and LOTP were scattered throughout. When VAK’s 2 and 3 cut through, BTK called them out and said something about talking to the American. They pretended like this was the first time they had seen me on the train (pleeeease) and looked surprised. They grabbed some seats and jumped in, and I’m always happy to give my time to VAK’s.
Some more chatting, mostly about what things are like in America, how do I like Kazakhstan, why don’t I have a girlfriend. Somewhere in this conversation, I managed to slip in the subtle question that would reveal their ages. High School. Am I doomed? Where are all the eligible bachelorettes? Turns out they had some advice for me on this subject. VAK’s 2 and 3 tell me I should just ask attractive girls on the street the time and I’m instantly in. Worth a shot.
Another interesting tidbit: apparently the women of Kazakhstan were in some sort of international competition that rated them as the 3rd hottest ethnicity or something like that, in all the world. South Korea took first; I don’t know who took second. I can believe it though, because most Kazakh’s look like supermodels. So for all those of you wondering if I will come back with a girlfriend, I can only say that I’m trying my hardest.
With that, my trip ends. It was wonderful, enlightening at some times, stupourous at others. It was a much needed break, and again I was ready to return to work. My favorite times are now when I travel, especially on the train, when I can meet so many new people, talk to them and share with them about our lives in America (or your lives I should say) and take stories and experiences away from them. I hope that some of you will get the chance to visit me this summer, you’re always welcome. Love you all, enjoy your Springs and take care.

Things are looking up

2008-03-17T05:32:00.000-07:00

It’s amazing the difference one day can make. Those of you that read my last blog may have noticed that it sounded a bit depressed and lonely. It was. I was. The day after posting that, however, I had a complete turnaround. I was teaching on my own that day, the English teacher I usually work with, Tanya, had gone into the city for a few days. The first two days she was gone, I didn’t know I’d be alone. This day, however, I knew. I made lesson plans and got myself prepared. I ran a very good class with my 8th graders that they all enjoyed. One student told me I should always teach the class on my own because it’s better than when Tanya is there.
It was an awesome compliment and made me feel so much better. Just that one little thing to make me feel that much better. I told her that it wasn’t likely to happen that I’d teach this class all myself, but thanks anyway. My other three classes that day went well also, and I had English Club with my older students, which is also pretty interesting.
I also traveled into the city to pick up train tickets for the coming holiday. It is Nauryz, the biggest holiday of the year, and I’m going to Shymkent with a bunch of other volunteers where the biggest celebration in Kazakhstan is held! It’s been a blast every year I’m told, and I’m really looking forward to it. The city was uneventful this time, nothing particularly interesting going on there. Didn’t even get a chance to visit the other volunteers there. I’ll see most of them in a few days though, so no biggie.
There isn’t much else to talk about here. I just wanted to reassure you all that I’m doing good, though still adjusting. Times are hard, especially after a few months of isolation from my friends (from training) and in general being away from the family. I’m closing in on my 7th month in this country. I’ve been here already a quarter of my time, which seems amazing to me. Time is flying by, even when I’m depressed and faster still when I’m in a really good mood. I’ll see you all in no time. Thanks for your comments and for taking an interest. Take care all.

Nightmares, Monty and Stuffy Guys

2008-03-10T20:40:00.000-07:00

Proof of God is receiving a letter from a friend on the day you are feeling the most depressed. I had a nightmare recently in which I was back home at my parents house (that wasn’t the bad part), but I was crying and incredibly depressed because I had quit the Peace Corps early and was embarrassed and humiliated. I woke up from that dream feeling pretty bad. The thought of leaving early has crossed my mind. Life would be easier (at least I tell myself) and a lot more comfortable. I have plenty of reasons for staying though, not the least of which is how disappointed I would be with myself if I left just because I wanted an easier life (complete with Xbox and cable TV).
Anyway, I got through my classes, which were a good distraction from my funk, and came home around 2.30 to find a letter from my friend Courtney. To give a little praise to her, she’s been really good about writing letters; this is the third I’ve received since training ended. The rest of you, take note. It was a very encouraging letter and picked my spirits up.
That evening I was a judge for our end of the quarter pageant for the girls of the school. A couple girls from each class competed in a variety of categories. There was a musical number, which some of the girls wimped out on. One girl I have to give credit to for being brave enough to at least try, even if she couldn’t really sing on key. Another girl began her piano piece and there were some loud boys in the audience and without missing a note, she turned and gave them a dirty stare to shut them up, which one it in my book for her. Anyway, there was a baking competition, but I only got to look, not eat at the deserts they made. Bummer for me. Good stuff there, lots of cakes.
One of the questions asked of the questions was how they would take care of their home. Answers basically followed the pattern of vacuuming, scrubbing floors, washing dishes and the like. I was thinking how sexist this portion might seem to many of our American viewers, yet for Kazakhstani’s, it’s natural. A good woman will keep a good home and it’s a matter of pride how their houses look. Maybe it’s still wrong that that’s how it is, but for now it’s a part of their culture, and I respected it.
There was a pretty dress contest and another where they had to talk about how beautiful they are into a mirror. Props to one girl who went with “Look how sexy I am,” which every post-pubescent boy in the audience loved. I think she won that contest solely on that one line. In the end, all the girls won some type of award, and the overall winner of Miss (couldn’t figure this word out) 2008 went to Christina, my 10th grade English protégé. I was happy to see her win, she worked hard for it.
Saturday was International Women’s Day. We don’t celebrate this international holiday in the states, but it’s a big deal here. People were surprised and confused when I told them we don’t have it in America, but they seemed to accept Mothers Day as an acceptable alternative. The celebrating went for two days actually.
On Friday we celebrated at our school with the men preparing some food and a small lunch time event for all the teachers and staff. Most people got dressed up, I was in a t-shirt. Slava has a habit of not telling me when things are happening, and I wasn’t invited to the planning part of it. I was actually pretty disappointed by that, I thought they’d try to include me in this, or at least let me know what’s going on. Anyway, there was booze, which I found interesting. It doesn’t really surprise me, but it’s a sharp contrast to our schools where you would be in big trouble for drinking in a school. Being in Kazakhstan though, I partook in this tradition, though not too heavily.
All the men gave toasts to the teachers, and I was one of the first. I had expected this and prepared a toast in my head while I was sitting and eating. It was pretty short, but I was applauded, and Slava told me they think it’s funny to hear my Russian. That sounded more like an insult, but I’m pretty sure Slava meant it nicely. I don’t talk a whole lot at school, so some people weren’t even aware that I could speak as well as I do. I knocked em dead with my toast though.
Other than that, there were some games, a little dancing that I avoided as much as I could, and some singing and dombra playing. One of our teachers is Mongolian, and when most people had left and the men and a few women were still sitting around drinking, I think the Mongolian man got a little offended by some comments about his nationality. I didn’t follow exactly, but one teacher was saying something about Mongolians versus Kazakhs, and this man didn’t seem to appreciate it. Nothing really developed, and the insulter tried to make up for his words later, so I think everything turned out okay.
The next day was the big family celebration, and all the relatives came over to our house for dinner. We had Full dishes of Monty (dumpling things), salads, fruit, spaghetti stuck through hot dogs (not a traditional Kazakh dish) and some fish stuff. Lots of drinking as per usual. We were also celebrating my host mom’s birthday which was on Friday. Again, I gave me toast that was completely understood and much appreciated by my people here. There were questions from grandpa about Americans and what we drink and generally what’s going on there. Some more politics came up and some people favored Hilary Clinton while others favored Obama, even though he’s a ni****.
I’m offended by that word, but over here I shrug it off and let it go. Actually, I do it the same when other people I know say it back home, mostly because I know they don’t mean it offensively, but I personally won’t say the word. Over here, it’s the same thing. Usually, it’s not offensive, that’s just the word they know for them. I thought it interesting though, when they made the distinction of Condoliza Rice not being a n*****, because she’s Latin American.
Racism is still extremely prevalent though, don’t get me wrong. I’ve heard plenty of opinions on the usefulness of all sorts of different races of people. It’s all said as a statement of fact, and it’s not an opinion that’s easily changed just through words.
There was also the great debate after dinner about where exactly the Andes Mountains are. One man, our neighbor, insisted that the Andes ran through Washington state. I tried to explain that he is in fact, wrong, but he wouldn’t listen to it. My uncle and I worked hard to convince them that we have other mountains in the Americas, and maybe he’s thinking of the Rockies, which run through states like Colorado, and Washington has the Cascades, which aren’t as well known. No evidence on maps or in atlases would change his opinion either. So for all you folks back home, you live next door to the Andes now. Start speaking Spanish.
Opinions are often a hard to thing in general to change in people. I have had several arguments with my host mom about various topics that usually end with me throwing up my arms in exasperation and telling her I refuse to talk about it anymore. The most recent (today) was about traveling in foreign countries. I asserted that I can travel in a country without knowing the language and without traveling in a giant group of tourists, which she maintained I couldn’t. I had example from Switzerland, Italy and France, but it didn’t matter, I was wrong. We’ve also argued about the benefits of vitamin tablets, with her claiming that there are no benefits and that, in fact, they are bad for your health. You all have your opinions too I suppose, but I think most would agree that she is just plain wrong.
I’m getting to the point where I could use another vacation, and thankfully the end of the term is coming and I’ve got some time to travel and meet with my friends. Frustrations tend to compile, and before too long little things start to irritate more and more. I think about the ease at which I communicated back in English speaking territory. I’m much better at speaking in Russian now, and I can say things without having to reason them out completely in my head, but I prefer English. Even talking with my counterpart, there’s some information gaps. For example, I said things were winding down at a party and he misheard and thought I said wining down and took it to have something to do with getting drunk (true for many parties I suppose). Also, there are the disrespectful students that I can’t get mad at because I don’t have the language skills to tell them to sit down and be quiet with enough force to make it stick.
When the frustrations compile, you think about home a lot more and at times wish you were there. I think of how much fun I had with my friends and all that, and how much easier it would be to be back home with all you guys. I know, also, that it’s the hard times that I’ll look back at and feel the most pride for having got through.
Not to end this on a down note, on Sunday was the village festival for Women’s Day. I went with the family and got to see some fun stuff. There were games like tug-o-war, singing and dancing. Those of you that have read Stephen King’s “The Dark Tower” series will appreciate the burning of the stuffy guy that took place. Why? I don’t know. There had been a concert earlier in which the fabled saxophone that I’ve heard so much about made an appearance. A woman played and I was sitting in the back thinking, “I could totally rock this house,” safe in the thought that I never really would have to. Anyway, Sunday comes around and the director of the concert house finds me in the crowd of this festival.
“Did you see you saxophone on Friday?”
“Yeah, I saw it…”
“We can get you to play it.”
“Yeah…sure…sometime.” (They’re calling my bluff).
Anyway, I think I’m actually going to have to do it now. Actually, this little conversational setup here reminded me of another. Let me set it up for you:
We were sitting around our kitchen table, me, my sister Ramzea, her best friend Julya, and Julya’s husband Murat, drinking some beers. The girls went off to dance in the living room or something and Murat and I stayed behind, not dancing. Murat likes to prove how strong and masculine he is, so of course we had to arm wrestle (this isn’t the first time), and he teases me. I can’t really do much with him, he’s pretty strong. Let’s try left arms, maybe you’re strong. No, I’m not. He’s very strong. He then explains how he got so strong.
“I have my truck right.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it, it’s big.” (Don’t tell me you lift that, I won’t believe it).
“I pick up these really big things when they break.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Mmmmm, the big things, they turn.”
“You mean the wheels?”
“I don’t think you understand. They are big, and they spin on the truck.”
“Yeah, wheels. I understand.”
“You don’t understand. Let me show you.” Murat searches around the kitchen for a good way to show me, and then settles on spinning his finger in a circle. “Do you understand?” “Yes Murat, I understand.” The whole problem was I don’t actually know the word for wheel, so I couldn’t say it. It took about 2 minutes for him to accept that I understood. Then we get into how much they weigh. Apparently they weigh much as me. Murat hasn’t yet accepted that I understand Russian, and occasionally talking to him devolves him pantomiming without any speaking, which is really ridiculous to me and I sort of laugh. Actually, that’s another of the frustrating things, though I laugh it off usually. People are learning that I can manage with this language pretty well. Okay, that’s all, this got a lot longer that I planned. Sorry. Take care all.

February is the Windy month

2008-02-27T20:59:00.000-08:00

We’ve been having a wind storm for awhile now. The first couple days were really crazy, and you had to fight your way upwind sometimes. It’s mellowed out lately, though apparently February in general is really windy. It’s pretty fun actually, except when the wind blows up gritty snow that pelts you in the face. The ground has been scoured pretty well, so all the loose snow is getting piled up wherever it finds a break from the wind. It makes for some really deep drifts in places, though the rest of the ground is icy and slick.
We celebrated my little host cousin’s birthday last night. She turned 8 and there was a big feast (typical Kazakhstan affair). We had bisparmak, which is the traditional dish here: big flat noodles with horse meat, and occasionally a goats head, though I’ve only seen that once (and it saw me too…creepy). The horse meat is really pretty good, though there was also some sheep meat, which is the most fetid meat you can imagine. I took a piece by accident, and then the man sitting next to me threw a big piece on my plate telling me to try it. I politely pushed it to the side and hoped he’d forget about it, but I heard him laughing and telling somebody that I was eating around the meat. True, but what can you do. Is it less polite to avoid the meat, or to gag and hurl on the table? I’m not a fan.
Lots of toasts with shots of vodka as well. I gave my toast, which basically praised the awesome family, and they all told me that they understood me…a plus. I was also told by my host aunt, Inga, that my Russian has improved. It was a fun meal in general, with some relatives and friends I had never met. Inga’s parents were in from the city, and her father enjoyed talking to me. He was funny, because he’d often turn to me and say “more questions” or something. He was unsure how much I understood, and did a good job talking slowly for me. It’s actually funny what some people think you don’t understand, like simple verbs that everybody should know.
Anyway, he asked me what languages I know, telling me it’s important that I study Kazakh while I’m here. Everybody tells me that. It’ll happen eventually. They were impressed that I’ve now studied 5 different languages (only one has stuck so far), including English. They pointed out that there were 8 different ethnicities there, though surprisingly they didn’t ask mine. Normally everybody wants to know where your ancestors came from, and it’s a major point of pride for them. The grandparents were Azerbaijani, another grandfather/uncle was Uigar (in China), and there were Russians, Kazakhs, Tatars and an American.
I got to talk about my family as well, who’s in it and all that. I was asked about my feelings for the president. “Do you like Bush?” they asked. “No.” “Why?” “Uh…many reasons.” They proceeded to list plenty of reasons for me. According to grandpa, Clinton was good, Bush Sr. was also good, and Reagan was great! I listened and enjoyed it; he seemed up on American foreign policy and whatnot. He talked about Iraq and the first Bush just getting it done and getting out. Interesting stuff, it could have been a debate from the states really.
I wasn’t asked but I managed to follow a brief conversation about patriotism. According to grandpa (he had a lot of opinions) we Americans are the most patriotic people in the world. His example was that we say “My President” whereas everybody else just says “the President.” I thought it was interesting, but not sure I agree, at least with his example. I will say my President, but I think so does everybody else in their countries. Anyway, the main point of this was that patriotism is still a big topic for everybody, and how they compare to the United States and other countries.
I spent the weekend in Pavlodar, which was a good break for me. I went in to take care of some banking stuff and spent the morning in the train station reading my book, waiting for my friend to be free so he could help me out. Nora was in town for a ski competition, and a couple other volunteers came into town for other reasons. I went to a café near the station for lunch and ran into my taxi driver there. He ate with me and we talked about his daughter, who is in my 10th grade class. I’m in charge of telling him if she doesn’t work hard or something like that. It was a good time, he’s a fun guy. I still don’t know his name though. Minivan taxi guy. The best taxi guy.
I met up with Nora at a café near Adam’s apartment to wait for him. The café was pretty nice, and I had my first beer in about two months, much needed. Adam showed up and we headed to his apartment where I dropped off my stuff, then trucked down to the bank, where we met Jeffrey OCAP, another Kaz-19. From there, we headed to the train station to buy train tickets for a coming trip.
Earlier I had stopped by the ticket window to check on the train schedule. My mission was to find out if the train left on the 19th of March, and at what time. I figured out how to ask, when to the window and fired my question at her. I got a yes, at 1 o’clock, and I promptly turned and walked away before something happened that I didn’t understand. Complete understanding of strangers is a big cause for celebration for me, and I didn’t want to ruin it by her talking more and me not following.
Anyway, turns out I didn’t understand (or she lied to me, which doesn’t hurt my understandingness, so we’re going with a lie) and the train leaves on the 18th or 20th. We figured to buy our tickets then, but apparently the schedule was getting changed or something (the ticket woman actually had no clue) so she couldn’t sell us tickets, and now Nora and I will be going back into the city in a couple weeks. Long trip, but definitely a fun time if you can get a beer or two out of it.
We ran into Nick, another out of towner visiting for the day, and began to bar hop a little bit. He took us to a metal shack that had a sign outside, handwritten, that only said “Beer.” Inviting. We went in; there was a small room with a bar and a few chairs around the outside. It was Veterans Day (Saturday), and people were celebrating in style. Plenty of mostly empty bottles of vodka sitting on tables. We took the corner and it wasn’t long before we were getting some questions from one table and friendly banter. They wanted us to drink with them, we didn’t want to. Eventually they left and were replaced by the man with the pickled watermelon.
The pickled watermelon. A new concept for me. Pickled in brine, the man cut it up and served it to the patrons. We got our pieces and gave it a shot. Jeff OCAP described it as eating sweaty socks. Not too far off, but overall, edible. We all ate a piece, and left the extra two sitting there. Finished our beers and headed back out to find some food. We managed to get some pizza, which wasn’t half bad either. Mine had beans on it. I gave Nora the mushrooms.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. Our ski team got first place overall, Nora thinks she got 4th, and a couple of our individual skiers placed 1st and 2nd. We’ve got a pretty good team. I hitched a ride back with them and spent two hours sitting and staring out the window because most people were too tired to talk, and my head was flailing all over the place on the bumpy road, making it hard to sleep.
A PCV I know from training recently asked if I feel like I’m just along for the ride. He’s getting frustrated feeling like we’re not really doing anything here. I can definitely get that impression at times. It’s hard working in a school where English levels are so low, that any production is small and far between often. It’s necessary to see the small victories in what we do though. Getting my students to say Good Afternoon instead of Good Morning always makes me feel better. Seeing students doing well in class, being greeted by people on the street and all that makes me feel really good. It’s hard to see the results of what we do, especially so soon, but I think there’s enough small things that it can add up to a lot. Even if it’s just being able to answer questions about America for people interested.
I was in the shop buying a Pepsi when a man came in. He asked the woman if I was the/an American, and I turned to him with a smile. Apparently I understand! Anyway, I introduced myself, I think he introduced himself and we shook hands. He seemed happy to meet me, and that’s what I like. Volleyball players that tell me about their Aunt who live in Minneapolis and want to visit her are great. Interacting with the people is where I think I accomplish the most.
On the other hand, I had a really terrible class last Friday. Tanya had to teach another class at the same time, so we chose between the 7th graders and the 8th graders. I chose 7th. They were loud, disrespectful and not doing any work. It’s not good when students are just asking me to translate song lyrics (especially when it’s The Black Eyed Peas – My Humps). I got fed up and gave up on the lesson. I stood there, telling them to be quiet, not getting much response. I gave them grades for the lesson that they were not happy with at all. All of this taught me one thing: choose 8th graders.
We had the class again yesterday, and they were almost as bad for Tanya as they were for me, which actually made me feel a bit better. Their disrespect didn’t have as much to do with me being the American teacher, as it was just being a teacher. They don’t want to learn English, though sadly, there are a couple kids in there that really try. They had to take a test and they kept asking me to confirm their answers. I wasn’t giving in, but I’d try to help them understand why. Anyway, you’ve got some good days and some bad days. My 6th graders still love me and treat me like a real teacher.
I think that’s about all that I have to report on. Our puppy is still a little terror, and he’s getting bigger. He goes outside for a few hours every day (doesn’t stop him from pooping all over the floor in our hall) and frolics in the snow. We play together, and now that he’s big I can play rougher with him. He jumps at me and I knock him aside, or he chases my hand around trying to bite it. We’ve become buddies. I’m now playing the game where I throw snowballs at him or toss him in snow drifts, which he seems to enjoy. Anyway, life is good here, I’m still enjoying myself. Take care all, write back.

Happy V-in Kazakhstan Day

2008-02-14T03:29:00.000-08:00

I must be blending in well here. Wednesday night I was mistaken for a five foot Kazakh man as I was leaving volleyball. I man followed me out the door and along the street for a few seconds before he spoke and I turned around. He seemed surprised to see me, excused himself and walked back in the building to find his friend! I had a good laugh.
Speaking of volleyball, just to throw this in, I rocked it Wednesday night. I had a number of good blocks and even a couple spikes that actually went downward. And best of all, none of my hits went wildly out of bounds like at least a few do every time. I did manage to hurt my back though last week stretching to far for a ball, and I’m still working that off. I tried taking some days off, but I’ve gotten more and more bored every night I stay home, so I went, and was glad I did.
I just finished my fourth book in three weeks. I read a book by an English bloke, Jasper Fforde, in a series called Nursery Crimes. They are murder mysteries based on nursery crime characters but set in a real world where the characters live alongside real people. Fforde has a great sense of humor, and you can see some of the goofiest and most outrageous lines being delivered with a perfectly straight face. I recommend the two I’ve already read, The Big Over Easy, and The Fourth Bear. Both are exceptional.
I think I’ve been given a magic pair of skis. I went an entire 2.5 km loop through the forest without falling on Saturday. It blew my mind. There were some near misses and some wobbling, but I made the whole way! I finally got a long term loan pair of skis to keep at home with me. Nora trailed me on this first loop so she wouldn’t leave me in her dust (or snow). During the trip, she told me a little story about a married man asking her out on a date (she didn’t find out until the next day that he was married). After my 2.5 loop and a rest, I went for a shorter loop. It wasn’t long before somebody came up behind me and when I looked back, my skis slid apart and I hit the ground. As I was falling, Konstantine (one of my students) skied past and hollered “Fsyo Narmalna! (Everything’s fine/good!). It wasn’t. I had one other fall when I hit the hardest substance on the planet with a ski…a mound of horse poop. That was all though, and Konstantine later fell in front of me, which I took great, but private, pleasure in.
My kids in English Club love doing the Hokey Pokey, though I think it’s mostly to watch me dance around waving my arms. We’ve been doing some body part vocabulary, and they keep wanting to do it. I admit, I love it too. Who doesn’t love a good Hokey Poke? I think English Club is my favorite time with my kids, cause I’m doing whatever I want and being goofy and all of that. I’ve got only good kids in there that are all interested in learning.
I tried starting an “advanced” English Club. It only on its second week now, but the goal was to focus more on grammar and discussion. I wanted to do a grammar lesson one week, than a discussion or something the next, using whatever grammar we had just covered. It’s not really going to work, at least not for awhile I think. It’s for older kids, my 10th graders pretty much, and English is just too low to be able to do any discussing. I think it’ll take a couple months of practice and build up before we can get some discussions going, but I’ve got some good topics when we finally do. I’ll let you know about them as they come along, and you can contribute some thoughts.
The dogs have been extra aggressive lately. I think I’m on the verge of a kick or be bitten moment. Some have gotten dangerously close and my leg has been tensed and ready, but the dogs sense it and back off at the last second. Others require some threatening foot stomping or waving ski poles to get them to back off. One little bastard (or is bitch more appropriate?...sorry mom) came running a couple hundred feet along a street just to get in a few barks. He kept running at me until I waved my ski pole at him, then he’d run along next to the street. It was getting really irritating because it slows me down so much to keep having to stop, but then the dog made it all worth it. He was leaping through the snow when he suddenly disappeared in a big snow bank. I second later he jumped out, looked embarrassed, and I thought he’d have to bite me just to save face in case any other dogs were watching, but he ran off instead and I had a good chuckle.
Flu season seems to be in full force, and people have been dropping out and coming back a few weeks later at school. The latest victim has been Slava, my counterpart. He’s been gone all this week so far, not sure how long it’ll last. It doesn’t seem to be especially bad, no epidemics, but I’ve gotten an extra bit of advice on how to keep from getting the flu. Apparently, if I take a spoonful of something really spicey, I’ll be protected for a week. I couldn’t find the logic in this, but other things make sense, like drinking tea with lemon, eating fruits and all that. I haven’t suggested that getting a flu shot can also help quite a bit.
I gave my speech on patriotism, and it was well liked by everybody, as far as I can tell. Nora’s assistant principle told her she really liked it. I kept it light, tried to be a little humorous and not get into too much political debate about patriotism in all its forms. I mentioned how we all recite the pledge of allegiance at school, about ASB and Teen Councils, and about sports being some of the most patriotic events in countries. It was only a few minutes long and I got a round of applause at the end.
I was glad I did it, and it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I thought it might be, since I was speaking in English and Slava was translating, I couldn’t really make a mistake. The sad part for me was there weren’t many questions. Maybe it wasn’t quite so thought provoking, but usually I’m battered with questions, no matter what topic I’m talking about.
That’s all the updates for this time around. Things are generally still looking pretty good. I’m tired of the snow and ready for some green, but other than that I really enjoy it here. I’m almost at the six month mark, which blows my mind. This has been the fastest six months of my life, and though a day can seem to drag on, when I look back I can’t believe I’m at the end of a week or month. For me, that’s the surest sign that things are going well. I look forward to everything at home, but I’m still happy being here.
Actually, to expand on that; for awhile, in my first few months here, and still occasionally, I think about all that I’m missing out on back home. Things that I really enjoyed that I can’t have here. An idle conversation on any topic I choose, sitting around doing nothing with my friends, staying up late and drinking beers, Sunday dinners with my family and all of that.
Then I also think, what’s the point of all that? It may feel at times that all of that is leaving me behind, and all my friends will have outgrown that by the time I get back, but then I think about my brothers. There’s still plenty of time to party and be a big kid for awhile. I would probably have some boring, job working in some shop somewhere, agonizing about having to get up and go to work every day, where as here, I still don’t like waking up in the morning, but once I’ve gotten going, I never really have a low point in my day.
And with that said, I’m going to leave you all with your day to day living and return to my wild and unpredictable life here in Siberia. Sorry.

Peanut Butter Jelly Time

2008-02-05T01:15:00.000-08:00

John Drotos, the Peace Corps Kazakhstan director, came up to my oblast for a visit, and spent an afternoon with me and Nora in Zhelezinka. The highlight of the trip, or at least the most lasting memory, was the Peanut Butter he brought. Most people in Kazakhstan have never heard of this product, and you can only find it in mega supermarkets in Almaty (and hopefully Pavlodar, I'm going to check). Anyway, he brought a jar for me and one for Nora, and I didn't realize how much I missed it. Combined with Auntie Eileens Pomegranate Jelly, I have been making dozens of tasty sandwhiches. I'm going to have to find some more.

The main point of this article, however, is to talk about patriotism. I've been asked to give a short speech about patriotism in America, and how it's developed in the youth. It seems the young country of Kazakhstan is looking to foster love of the motherland in their children, and are looking towards America to see what we do. I don't really want to talk to you all about that. You know about the Pledge of Allegience, the National Anthem at baseball games and all of that. I want to discuss patriotism in a former country of the Soviet Union.

I brought this up with my counterpart last night. I was trying to think of how American patriotism compares with Kazakhstani. I asked if he thought that the fact that we fought a revolutionary war to gain our independence, compared to Kazakhstan and other Central Asian countries that had to be practically forced to become independent after the fall of the Soviet Union. Many people here still seem to feel loyalty to either the Soviet Union, Russia, or any number of other countries. The older generations especially. Some of them were brought here under the system of Gulags. They don't feel as strongly as Kazakhstan as they might about other countries.
In Kazakhstan you are constantly asked about your nationality. Where are you from. Most Americans answer that question with "I'm American." Kazakhstani's however, answer with, "Chinese, German, Russian" etc. Does this affect their patriotism, since they seem to identify much more with their nationality than many Americans do. It's an interesting topic, though one I"m not comfortable trying to discuss standing at a podium quite yet. I'm not quite sure if it's even something I can discuss without breaking the Peace Corps rule about staying out of politics. I figure if I ask questions and keep it to a small group, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. I'd like to hear all your insights into this idea. Patriotism in a post soviet country vs America.

Okay, a change of topic now. Lessons. To answer some questions that I've gotten.
The Interactive Boards are largely unused, but it seems to be changing. I am going to ahve a lesson on them on Thursday, and many other teachers are eager for them and wondering when they will get one in their classrooms. It's interesting and exciting to see this, but I am afraid that they aren't getting used to their full potential. I'll know more when I've seen a few lessons, but it seems that they will mostly be used to put pictures up and write on like a normal blackboard. I was under the impression they can do a lot more, so I will have to look into it and see what I can figure out with it.
My classes are often limited in how much English speakign they do. A lot of work is done with translating, which I'm trying to break away from. I want the students speaking, and creating their own sentences, rather than reading a text aloud and translating it into Russian. This is the normal system for teaching, and the teacher is often the focus of the classroom. Peace Corps has taught us to put as much focus on teh student as possible, but it can be hard to change the teachers ways, and intimidating to basically tell them their system is ineffective (even if it is painfully obvious). Luckily, I have English clubs all to myself, and I encourage the students to speak more, rather than just reading and writing. Most classes the students will listen to the teacher explain the grammar, listen to some examples, then maybe write some sentences or do some sort of activity, rarely with much speaking at all. Hopefully within the next month or so their will be a blog post that talks about an amazing breakthrough and some great classes where the students are putting together sentences and actually speaking their ideas in English. We'll see how that goes.
Students in Kazakhstan begin studying English in 3rd grade, and continue through 11th grade, their final year. I am teaching 6th, 7th, 8th, 10th, and 11th. Some of my younger students are actually my best speakers, in the 7th and 8th classes. I also run two separate English clubs, one for beginners and younger kids who will enjoy goofy games and songs, and a club for older kids that will (this is my first week for it) be discussions and more grammar work.

Okay, that's all for this blog, just had the patriotism thing on my mind so thought I'd write something up about it. Let me know what you all think, maybe we can get some dialogue going.

I know, you just finished reading the last post

2008-01-29T04:11:00.000-08:00

Things have been going really well lately. I’ve been in a good mood and been having lots of fun all around. I think this mostly comes from being busy for most of the day. For the past week or so I’ve had very little downtime to just sit and relax. School is back in full swing (mostly), so I’m there until 1 or 2 o’clock every day. I come home, relax by reading a book, listening to music or reading Newsweek. Then it’s time for lunch. After lunch I’ve often had additional lessons or something else school related. I get home around 4 or 5 again, then relax a little more. I’ve started volleyball again, which I found I really missed, so that keeps me busy until about 9 o’clock. Interspersed throughout the day I’m planning lessons and preparing materials for the next day.
I realize that I don’t do well when I don’t have anything to do. Too much just sitting and thinking, and I get antsy. I start to think, "Is there really a point to me being here?" I’m not working, I’m not really getting out and doing much. It’s a depressing time, and so I’m really happy that I’m back and contributing.
After my visit from Natalya, I’ve been working harder and preparing better lessons. Before I go to lesson plan I try to review the material and come up with some good ideas of my own, so we don’t waste time just sitting there trying to think of something. I’ve gotten back to having an actual objective, and remembering everything Peace Corps tried to teach me in my twelve weeks of training. I think lessons are getting better, and I’m definitely more involved when I’m part of the planning process.
All of this will come in handy when I have kids and can say "You need to learn the value of hard work! Why, when I was in Kazakhstan…(at this point they stop listening). Anyway, long story short, I’m back to work and it’s made me a lot happier.
Now, a short story long. I tried cross country skiing for the first time the other day. This was the first time I had ever had skis on my feet in my life, and I’m proud to say I didn’t fall over as soon as I was strapped in! I waited about five minutes, then fell over. Also, in order to click my feet in, Nora had to stand on the skis so they wouldn’t keep sliding away from me. I managed to get all set up, had no idea what I was doing, and began to move. Nora, whose skis I was borrowing, was my coach.
She tells me the easiest way to do it is to point my feet straight ahead and push myself forward with my poles. This went fine, until I realized that my arms were dieing, and I had to try real skiing. She has some fancy type of cross country ski where you have to basically ice skate to get anywhere. I think they’re speed skis or something bizarre like that. Anyway, I gave the ice skate technique a shot, with a large amount of help from my arms.
Nora was strolling behind me, keeping up without a problem as I wobbled back and forth and tried to avoid the piles of frozen horse manure (poop). Things seemed to be going well, when my skis decided it would be more fun if they crossed over each other. My eyes bugged out as I flailed about, then slowly toppled sideways onto my knees, then a face plant deep in the snow. Nora started cracking up, I laughed and tried to figure out how to get up.
My feet don’t move like I want them to when they’re strapped into ski’s, and I was having a lot of trouble, so Nora had to reach down and grab my feet and twist them around until they were lined up again. I just lay there, patiently staring at the snow surrounding my face. She told me I was ready, and I started to shove myself up. That’s when I saw IT! The piece of horse dung, right next to my head. I had narrowly missed braining myself on a piece of poop with the density of a rock.
I managed to struggle back to my feet and wobble my way around a bit more. I traded the ski’s over to Nora, who was much better than me (she’s from Minnesota). She came around the track, handed them back off to me and sent me off into the woods, all alone…She wandered off to look at the horses. I started along the track, enjoying myself. Over all, I managed to get the entire 2.5 km lap in over the course of our time there, and only fell about 5 times, with many…many…more near misses. I’m a fan of skiing, and I’m going to try to borrow a pair from my school, so Nora and I don’t have to trade off constantly.
Volleyball was back on to, and rather than start up with the really good guys at the sport school, I went with Nora to First School, where the scrubs (me) play. We played with some teachers there who are all as bad as or worse than me. Also, the net was barely above my head, so it made spikes and blocks a lot easier for me. I’m not sure who exactly won, but I had fun.
The next day I went back to the sport school after being away for a month. The guys seemed happy to see me, and thought it was funny that my excuse for not coming was that it was so cold. Anyway, I got in a few games with them, and was reminded how bad I still am. The best part about me going again, though, was I learned of a Sunday afternoon soccer game in the gym every week. I told them I’m better at soccer, and I’m definitely going to go and play. I’ll let you know how that all went. I’m not sure if it’s like court soccer, or if the volleyball net will still be up and we’ll play like soccer tennis. Either way, I’m excited for it.
I finished Silk Road to Ruin, and I really recommend it to anybody at all interested in the area or American foreign policy. The book is really pretty funny, especially during the beginning. The last third or so is a bit more focused on the future of the area, and moves away from the more light-hearted beginning, but by that point you are so engaged in the area and politics that it doesn’t matter at all. I do have to add a disclaimer though. The author, Rall, claims that the majority of people in Kazakhstan do not support President Nazerbaeyev, which is absolutely untrue. Nazerbaeyev is a pretty popular president, though this may be due as much to propaganda as any of his programs might.
That brings me to one final point I want to vent out. I have mentioned before these Interactive Boards, which are basically fancy blackboards connected to computers and projectors so you can write directly on them with a light pen and also show movies, pictures or whatever. They cost thousands of dollars, and rarely get much use in the schools. Anyway, my school already had one, and now we just got a second. This wouldn’t be a problem, if all our computers had internet, or up-to-date software, or worked at all. Or if we had blackboards in the classrooms you could actually write on. This is one of Nazerbaeyevs projects, is to put these boards in the schools where the money could be spent so much better in tons of other ways. With the money the Interactive Boards cost, you could buy a whole new set of computers with educational software. Just something to think about. Also, enough textbooks so every student can have one would be great too.

Playing Catch up...here's the news

2008-01-24T01:51:00.000-08:00

PlI had a good time chatting at the table tonight with Ramzea and Galiya (the host family). We were just chatting away, and then it somehow turned into an impromptu English lesson. Ramzea was listing the phrases and words she knew in English, mostly gained from Hollywood films. I’ll be back, Hasta La Vista (I explained this wasn’t English), Oh my God and Oh Shit is just some of what she knew. Then I started giving them the names for things in English. We were on lights vs lamps, and suddenly we seemed to change topics. Galiya asked what “bra” was. It’s the same in English isn’t it? I stuttered, not sure if I was hearing this right. “Bra,” she said. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. So she grabbed a spoon, put it on the wall and said something about a lamp. “Nightlight (thank God)” I told her.
Then we moved to the head, and facial features. Ramzea started describing Galiya’s head in Russian while I gave the translation. It came out as “Silky hair, red face, white head, brilliant eyes, coral lips, white teeth and potato nose.” I liked it. Galiya is actually the one who came up with the potato nose.
Also on looks, I’ve finally grown tired of people talking about how much weight I’ve lost. I haven’t weighed myself in a few weeks, but I was down 40 lbs to 210 just after New Years. Anyway, one of my sisters friends (I suppose one of mine too at this point) was over and asked to see my pictures. She saw some from Aarons wedding and exclaimed how healthy I used to look. I need to learn the words for heart attack, high blood pressure and unhealthy cholestorel to explain that I’m actually healthier now. In addition, I’ve had everybody that hasn’t seen me in a few weeks exclaim how thin I’ve gotten, and that I will disappear in a few months completely. It makes me feel pretty good, but it’s getting a little repetitive.
Another story. How often has it been so hot in your house the wall paper has literally peeled from the walls? Well last Sunday my sister, Ramzea, got a little over eager with the coal stove and got it really fired up. The kitchen is the first room to get heated, and along the line where the pipe runs with the hot steam, the wall paper was peeling back and hanging down the wall! The next day we went and bought some clay paste stuff and got it put back up, and it looks great, but it was a pretty funny day. It was so hot in the house that night that I couldn’t sleep with any sheets. I guess that’s what I can expect in the summer too. Fun stuff.
Alright, the news since coming back from vacation. It’s been pretty cold here lately (it is winter after all) and the furnaces have to work over time. The main heating plant in town apparently broke down a few weeks ago, and it feeds a number of buildings in town, including apartments and Nora’s school. So they’ve been shut down until a couple days ago, when they opened for half lessons. At the same time, my school apparently bought some inexpensive coal, which translates to ineffective. It doesn’t burn hot enough or something, and our school isn’t heated very well either.
Since coming back there has been little real school, and it’s usually only in spurts. We were all closed for over a week because of the cold and bad furnaces. We had 30 minutes classes (normally 45) the last two days, but now the schools are closed again. Students and teachers were going to class in their big bulky coats, huddling up and shivering. It hasn’t been all bad though, because students suffering from hypothermia are much less rowdy and appear to be paying attention.
I had a site visit from my regional manager this week. She came to watch two of my classes in the cold. They were pretty bad. Which is normal. Her visit forced me to have a good look at how I’m doing here after two months, and it wasn’t good. My kids aren’t learning too well, and our methods are ineffectual. Tatiyana (English teacher) and I got a kindly lecture about improving our lessons. I have to admit, it’s mostly my fault for not doing a better job and being assertive. Peace Corps did a good job drilling me with the techniques for good lessons, and upon my arrival, I was afraid to challenge the teachers. I didn’t want to seem like I was telling them how to do their job (which is exactly what I was supposed to do). Anyway, now I realize that if I’m going to do any good work here, I need to step it up and assert myself. I’m an adult for Pete’s sake! What’re they gonna do, fire me? From now on, P1, P2, and P3 all the way!
Natalya (my regional manager) was assured that the kids do really like me, and that I’m needed in the classrooms. I still enjoy teaching, and Natalya claims that I was very good during training and she put me in this site for a reason, so I think I can do better, and will. Not to worry folks at home (or rejoice), I’m not coming home any time soon.
Actually, on that note, I’ve been thinking about what my summer plans will be. There are some places around here that I would like to visit. China is up at the top of the list, as is Nepal. I just read Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer (I spelled his name right without checking, I know because I checked after I spelled it), and now I want to travel the trails in the Himalayas and look at Mt. Everest from the lowest elevation I possibly can. There are also plenty of other places I’d like to see, like most of SE Asia and any number of islands in that area. I’ll have to see other PCV’s plans.
I’ve also been thinking I might like to come back home for a week or two. I can get an injection of all the friends, family and food I left behind (though leaving that food behind is probably why I’ve become so “unhealthy”). I miss camping trips with the guys, beer pong, Sunday dinner, my niece that I’ve barely seen, my mom (I didn’t put you first for added suspense) and a thousand other things. I’ll have to make up my mind about where I’m going by May I suppose, so I’ll keep you all informed.
Also, and I meant to put this at the top (and probably still could without any of you knowing I typed it down here), I want to thank everybody for the many Christmas cards and other mail I’ve gotten over the past few weeks. They’re still coming in, and it’s really nice to know you folks are all thinking about me and to find out what you are up to. Everybody who has sent a letter or card is getting some loving mail in return. Consider that it takes a month for it to get to me and a month to get back to you, it may take two months before you know how much I really appreciate it, so this is pretty good turn around time. (Remember it takes me a month normally to write a thank you note).
On top of that, if anybody wants to send me an insta-message, you can find a website for the company “beeline.” They are a cell phone service provider here, and you can send a text message, for free I believe, to me at any time, from the internet. I can’t answer of course, but if there’s something urgent you need to say, that’ll reach me. Please though, I am usually asleep from 10 am to 7 pm Seattle time (that’s Midnight to 9 am over here), so maybe not send one at that time.
This is already longer than I planned to write, so I’m gonna cut it off here. Not much else is really going on. I’m reading a lot of books, I recommend Silk Road to Ruin by Ted Rall for anybody that wants an insight to this region and its insane politics. It’s not just educational, it’s entertaining! That’s all from this side of the world (new catch phrase?), take care America. Stay classy Seattle.

Holy Cow, is this a long update

2008-01-15T19:45:00.000-08:00

I think I may have been the only one to see the irony of listening to “Hava Nagila” in my all Muslim household. It came on their disc of mp3’s that must have been a New Years present, because I had never heard it before, and if I had, I would have let all of you know about it. I laughed to myself, then immediately sat down here to write this so I wouldn’t forget it. The next song was Hammertime, by the way.
Religion is one of the things in this country that irks me. (For me, an irk is something that’s not that bad, but I secretly roll my eyes at it all the time it occurs. That may not be the standard definition, but it’s what we’re going with here). The Soviet Union did everything it could to stamp out religion, so the people really can’t be blamed. They lived in a system where you were persecuted for your religious beliefs, so it’s just normal that nowadays most people have very little real devotion. My family is Tatar, which also makes them a Muslim family. My sister washes her face with her hands after a meal, but beyond that, religion doesn’t really enter the household. Personally, I feel that if you are going to claim a religion, you should embrace a lot more of the aspects of it. You aren’t really a Christian if you just celebrate Christmas for the presents. You have to hold the beliefs of that religion in your heart, and I’d be curious to know how much people here really know their religions that they claim to be a part of.
Okay, on a lighter note, it’s a New Year and I’ve got some stories to tell:

I went back to Almaty and Kaskelen for New Years with my host family and a couple friends from training, Matthew and Drew. It was really great to see my family again, who seemed really excited to see me. I showed up two days before the other guys and got to spend some time just hanging out and relaxing. Drew was the next to show up, on Sunday afternoon. We planned to meet up in the city and hang out there for a bit, but it turned into a bit of a fiasco. For those of you who have never been to Almaty (that’s pretty much all of you), it’s a massive, sprawling city. It has a population of 2.7 million people that spread out, not up. The bus system is chaotic and it can take up to an hour to get anywhere in the city. That sets the stage.
I was going to take a mashrutka (sort of a mini van but a little bigger) to go and meet Drew. I thought we were meeting at a place called City Plus, which is a bizarre mall near the edge of the city. Drew thought we were meeting at a place called the Silk Way, which is like a big old strip mall. I forgot how to get to the mashrutka stand in Kaskelen and spent close to an hour looking for it before one passed me and I asked if it was going to Sairan, my stop. The guy told me to climb on board so I did. It took me to Altan Orda, a bazaar not even in Almaty. I said “Sairan?” The man said “No, Altan Orda…of course” and kicked me off the bus. I was beyond irked at this guy. Anyway, I stood around for 10 minutes, asking various mashrutkas if they were going to Altan Orda. One guy finally told me to get on and I thought “oh, man…where am I going now” as I climbed aboard. Luckily, he took me to my stop and I made my way to the mall.
I messaged Drew that I was there, only to discover he had been waiting for me at Silk Way. I convinced him to come to me since this was the way back to Kaskelen anyway. He agreed, though he didn’t want to try to find me on the city buses. (This was the same reason I didn’t want to go to him). I spent an hour or so wandering around this mall, looking at various gadgets. At one point I wandered into a supermarket. The supermarkets here are insane (like all other public places) and I couldn’t find my way out. All the lines were packed with people or blocked off by big metal bars and I have a deathly fear of being yelled at by large Kazakhstani man that I can’t understand who eventually throws me in prison for cutting. Anyway, I decided to just buy something and stand in one of the insane lines.
I chose a bottle of fanta and a Twix bar and got in what I thought would be a quick line. I was behind a woman with a shopping cart loaded with various New Years food. I had resolved myself to waiting behind her when a man with a single bottle of champagne, using his language skills he had developed for 40 years asked if he could jump in front of her since he had only one item. She politely agreed and I thought of how, in one year, that man could be me. Once the women got to the front and her items were scanned, it seemed to be going quickly. That was, until the checker decided it was a good idea to scan this cake five times! Why…I don’t know. There were five tags, so the woman scanned them all.
The money was exchanged but then the checker realized she had just charged the woman an extra few thousand tenge (maybe 20 dollars or more). She had to work for five minutes to get the charged erased and the money given back. After a couple minutes, I did the half turn to the people behind me and gave the eye roll, half smile that’s necessary in such situations. I was happy to see that this gesture seems to be international, as I got the head bob shoulder shrugs from the folks behind me. I was working out some cross-cultural integration there!
It was after this that Drew and I talked again and he had given up on the buses and was going to head home and I was tired of waiting, so I headed home too. I got back two hours before he did, too. The next day Matthew showed up and we had a big old family reunion. It was a really good time, just hanging out and sharing various stories.
New Years started about 9 pm with a big feast and various toasts around the table. It continued with various games that people had either thought up or seemed to be old traditions. The big one was called Fanti, and it was sort of like charades. Everybody either got a piece of paper that told them one thing they had to do. Sometimes people had to guess what it was, other times it was just something funny. An example was, wish everybody a Happy New Year five different ways (angry, happy, sad etc). I managed to get juggle three apples. I busted that out without a problem. There were some other games that had people making fools of themselves, but I’m going to save those to use on you all when I get home.
Right around midnight the radio was turned on and people listened to President Nazerbaeyev giving his traditional New Years speech. At the stroke of midnight everybody chants Happy New Year (in Russian) then races outside for fireworks. Kaskelen was a war zone that night! All over the sky things were exploding and whistling. I did my part to add to the chaos. I had bought two packs of Roman Candles and was firing them off. The most exciting part was they only went about five feet in the air most of the time before exploding, so there were sparks and fire raining down everywhere! After that it was back inside and exchanging presents.
It was very informal; you just walk around and hand out your things, unwrapped and all that. My family told me they had a gift for me waiting for me up in my room. No, it wasn’t a girl. It was a new sweater (think Cosby Show) that was incredibly warm. I’ve been putting it to good use up here in the North, but it was too warm for down south. Very comfortable and nice, I was very touched. I gave out the gifts I had bought as well, and got various candies and a reindeer candy cane mug from Lena (host Aunt, Matthew’s mom).
Then more food came. After midnight is the Pelmini time. I only had room for a couple of those (like most people it seemed). We ate, and then resumed the different games. This lasted until about 3.30 in the morning, where exhausted, I crashed in bed. The next day the three of us from my language group and Daniel, another volunteer in town, went to visit Indira, our language tutor. She was very happy to see us and we had a good time talking with her and showing off our awesome new Russian skills. Most of the talking was in Russian, which I was impressed with. We are all fairly competent, especially when put in a room with each other and nobody points out the tons of mistakes we are making.
Daniel got love advice from Indira; we drank a good number of toasts again and ate more good food, then made our way home. The rest of the vacation involved just hanging around and relaxing. My train back, I managed to get on the right wagon with help from my host family. We said our tearful (not me of course) goodbyes, assuring Karolina I would be back in March, hopefully in time for her birthday (day after Randy’s), and I climbed aboard. I had managed to pick up a pretty bad cough and a case of the sniffles while down there, and my family included some powder drink to help with it on the train. My host dad told the woman sitting next to me to make sure I drink it on the train.
I ended up talking to this woman for a while when the train first got started. She was wondering why I was taking the train to Pavlodar instead of flying. I explained that I can’t afford a plane, that I’m here as a volunteer. We chatted some more, explaining that I was an English teacher here with an organization, living for two years. She told me about her daughter studying English in Moscow and about her family that all lives in Pavlodar. She herself was a retired engineer of some sort, I couldn’t understand the entire details, but she said she was very good at math.
I was feeling pretty good about how my chat had gone as she got up to head to the bathroom, and rather than jeopardize what so far had been a great conversation, I put my head phones in and listened to Dane Cook for a bit. She came back and we spoke a bit more, but then she went to bed and I contentedly listened to music and worked on my book.
Over the course of the train ride, I managed to read all of Catch-22. It’s a pretty interesting book, though it gets depressing throughout it. When I got to Pavlodar, I met up with my buddy Adam and crashed at his place. I saw a Steinbeck collection on his shelf, so I’ve borrowed that now and am working through some more of the classics. I decided that this is a good time to get some serious reading in, and maybe break myself away from my computer a bit more (ironic that as I say this I’m sitting at a computer). Anyway, if you have some recommendations on what I should be reading, as far as really awesome books go, let me know and I’ll see if I can get my hands on them.
My big project in Russian now, actually, is to read a Stephen King book. I asked Karolina (host sister, remember) if she had a good, not too difficult, book in Russian I could borrow and try to read. She gave me The Green Mile. Not the simplest book, but interesting so far. At this point I have finished the first chapter (about 4 pages) in about a week. I read 30-60 minutes a day, dictionary open and notebook at the ready for interesting words I find. The first bit was very slow going, but I’m getting better at looking up words and I’m moving a bit quickly. The rare instance that I can understand something without a dictionary is cause for a small dance and celebration in my room. Also, thanks to the parents who have explained the more confusing sections in English to me.
School has started up again, and I’m trying to turn a new leaf. With most of my classes I was teaching with a young teacher, but we rarely worked together. She had been sick and I was teaching alone for awhile, and when she came back, we didn’t plan lessons together much. That led to me not doing much in classes besides a few minutes in the beginning. I’ve now set up a time each week (hopefully) that we can plan lessons together and get me involved a bit more. It should be pretty good, because I’ve got ideas for lessons that I’d like to try, but I can’t do much without her help.
I was pretty depressed before my vacation, but coming back now, I’m happy to be here. I really prefer village life to city life. It’s quieter here, and much cleaner. In Kaskelen, you get black boogers and everything stinks. Out here it’s fresh air and frozen boogers. Though I enjoyed a shower and indoor toilet, those things are less important to me than I realized. They are things I can adapt to and, though maybe not enjoy, tolerate. I had the thought that maybe the reason I have been thinking how much greater Kaskelen is, has to do with my friends there. I had people I could talk and joke with on a regular basis in English. Language class was some of the most fun I’ve had, and that’s gone now. As time goes by here though, I’m enjoying what I have.
I definitely needed that vacation, and I will probably need more in the future, but for now I’m settled. I’m happy, I feel productive (which is key to my happiness) and I have no complaints (we’re down to seven geese). I’ve got a whole year ahead of me in Kazakhstan, and that’s both daunting and exciting. I think about the changes that may happen in a year; changes in me and changes around me. Hopefully I can be a part of some very good changes in Zhelezinka. And for all of you folks back home, hopefully you can do the same. Here’s wishing everybody a happy and productive New Year.

The Night Before (a Kazakhstan) Christmas

2007-12-23T20:38:00.000-08:00

Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the land
Not a creature was stirring
Not even in Kazakhstan

The volunteers were nestled
In their long underwear
In hopes that the summer
Soon would be there

We sit at the table
Drinking more tea
While visions of Turkey Sandwiches
Dance in my head

Outside the wind blows
With never a lull
But we keep warm inside
Another bucket of coal

As I lay down in my bed,
I wonder with fear
If my family is Muslim
Will Santa visit here?

I wake up the next morning
And head off to school
Cuz us teachers still have work
How can life be so cruel?

But I get the good news
From a man I pass by
There is a package for me
To the post office I fly

Running from dogs
And slipping on ice
I can’t help but smile
That the day is so nice

No brightly lit tree
Or cookies in cans
But Christmas is still awesome
Here in Kazakhstan

Far from our families
And our mothers all fret
But Peace Corps was the best way
To put off my debt

Times like this can be sad
Far away and alone
But our families are near
Just over the phone

Though we miss our families
We love to be here
We will be home in no time
No worse for the wear

So don’t worry too much, mom
Everything’s alright.
Merry Christmas to all,
And to all a good night!

Don't Antagonize the Geese Jeff

2007-12-20T03:37:00.000-08:00

I hate the geese. They honk and honk like mad any time I go to the bathroom. Some of them hissed at me when I walked between a group of them. I want to kick them or something. I'm actually almost to the point where I'd be comfortable slaughtering one and eating it. In another animal anecdote, the dogs in town are really quite pathetic. They will bark like mad at you as you go by, and maybe take some steps toward you. I've dealt with it by walking towards them or stomping my foot at them. It usually gets them to back off a bit, but I'm afraid someday that will come back to bite me in the ass (!).

I was walking around town this evening, enjoying the clearish sky and warmish weather. It was about 3:30 or so and the sun was starting to get low in the sky. It was very calm and peaceful and I was feeling very content. I like it here, I’m very glad I’m not in a city (though that would probably mean a flush toilet). I walked toward the river, since I hadn’t seen it since it had frozen over. I saw some kids who said “good morning” to me (at 4 pm). They were sledding down a hill and out onto the river. It looked like fun and I wish I had joined them, because once they hit the river they would slide for a long time across the ice. Anyway, it was a really quaint site that I really enjoyed.
I also walked through the park some and took pictures of my favorite building in town, the Orthodox Church. It has two cool domed tops on the buildings that end in a point. They are checkered green and a dark red and it’s really a beautiful building. I hope some day when my Russian is better to venture inside and take a look around. It may not be as exciting inside as I hope, but I’d like to find out for myself. Walking through the park also revealed to me how much snow we really have. It’s over three inches deep now, the only difference is that in most places people walked it stays stamped down pretty thin. I’m still very much enjoying the snow, and I hope that lasts throughout the next few months.
In those same lines, Nora and I have started a contest to see who falls down the least this winter. I’m at 3 falls now and she’s only had 1. I’m going to have to be extra careful if I want a chance to stay in this. She’s already got experience on me, but I’m hoping my large feet will give me the edge in stability. I’ll keep you all updated.
English clubs are still a lot of fun, they have gotten bigger every time. The kids really enjoy the games we play, and so do I. They are active and eager, though usually pretty talkative. It’s not as frustrating as talking in the classroom though, because often they have an activity or I’m working with somebody and not trying to talk to everybody. Also, I’m teaching exactly what I want to teach, how I want to teach it, which is really satisfying. I was rewarded with some “good afternoons” by my students, which was so great to hear in the midst of the dozens of “good mornings” I get all throughout the day. My next English club I plan to teach about articles. Since the Russian language doesn’t use articles, students often forget about them in English. If I can get them using them, even if it’s the wrong one, that’ll make their English much better.
I had the chance to go to a student patriotism conference at First School the other day. I sat in a room with students from around the area and two of our teachers. Artur, the history teacher, and Tanya, the school psychologist. Artur was leading the discussion and he seemed to be doing a really good job, because the kids were active and had a lot to say. I had a lot of trouble following most of it, but I was filled in later. There were talks about citizenship and how a student body can improve the school.
They kids had a chance to ask me questions too, about American citizenship. I gave them the rundown about the Pledge of Allegiance, the National Anthem at sports events, merit badges in scouts and all that. They asked about Student ASB in schools and I didn’t have the heart to tell them that it’s really a popularity contest and the ASB has little to no influence on a school. I told them they have different positions and they work with the school staff to improve them.
Frankly, I feel I left the kids unsatisfied. I went there under th impression it was a roundtable discussion about patriotism in the socialist state (that’s what I interpreted from Artur when he first told me about it, in Russian) and I was going to give a couple minute speech about American patriotism. I had prepared about a page of material on Patriotism in the midst of the Iraq War and criticism of the government etc., which is now sitting in our coal oven waiting to be burnt. I did enjoy myself though, and am interested in what, if any, changes come about from this.
Speaking of coal, I tripped over a mountain of coal on my way to the bathroom last night. It was pretty dark out and we had just had the coal delivered that day. It was in a line about 2 feet high right infront of the gate in the fence. I didn’t see it, tripped, rolled and cursed my way to the ground. I was wearing my last clean t-shirt and my only pair of jeans. The jeans made it out alright, they only have a couple dark spots, but my t-shirt took the brunt of the abuse and now one shoulder is colored almost entirely black. I wasn’t too happy about this.

I ran into some students outside of school the other day who were laughing and having a good time (possibly booze was involved). It was the evening and I was on my way to the store to buy a pepsi and snickers bar that I could eat alone in my room. It made me think about how much we rely on relationships to get us through, and how absolutely necessary they are to survival for most people. I love my family, but it's our friendships and daily contacts with people that really make a huge difference in our lives. Being able to joke casually with people around you, remember past events and just relax is really important. Right now, I feel pretty isolated from all of that. I don't have the ability to do that with any of the people I know right now. Nora is in town, and really helps when I need to talk or vent or whatever about something, but it's relationships that grow over a few months or years with people you see every day that are the real life savers. So all you guys back home reading this, just know that I miss you a lot and appreciate how cool you all are. Even Ian.

Now I want you all to go back and make sure you noticed my awesome use of a pun. That's dedicated to three people who I'm pretty sure dont' actually read this, but somebody should let Tyler, Alli Sr. and Alli Jr. know to check it out.

It happened again

2007-12-13T21:24:00.001-08:00

I fell down

They like me, they really do!

2007-12-08T01:46:00.001-08:00

I planned to start this blog with a big announcement: I fell for the first time on the ice today. It was pretty awkward, and I spilled my skittles all over, which was the biggest tragedy. Anyway, this isn’t such a big announcement since, five minutes later, I fell again. The second time was in front of people, though I didn’t hear any loud guffaws (which I probably would have done) so maybe they didn’t notice. In short: it’s slippery around here.
Volleyball has been getting better and better (except for last Friday). My spikes are looking more like spikes, and I’ve blocked a couple of the other teams spikes. At the same time, I’m still making some stupid mistakes and trying to figure out where I need to be all the time. The problem is my team is always winning, so I don’t ever get to sit out and watch other people and how they play.
I did both my English clubs, and by the time this is actually posted, I’ll probably have done another two. They’re good, the adult one is fun because I start at the very beginning and the people are pretty interested in the material. The students English Club is great too, though I only had six kids there. I think there will be more in the future. I’m working on correcting what I see as the biggest problem with English in this country: saying Good Morning in the afternoon. It’s a VERY common mistake, and even the teachers say it at times. Even I say it, if a student catches me by surprise with a good morning and I’m just not sure what time it is, I reply reflexively with a good morning. I’m working on it, and I think my six English Club kids have it figured out, I hope. We also talked about different ways people say hello in English speaking countries. Just so everybody knows, in Washington we all say Hey, California says Yo and New York says “Hey, how ya doin’.” It’s important to know, in case my kids ever run into you on the streets.
I just came from dinner with my family and they have learned that I have lost 30 pounds (look how I just drop that fact in there), so now my mom thinks it’s her job to make me gain at least 10 kilos (which is about what I’ve lost). She doesn’t seem to think that thin is good, though I assure her it’s exactly what I want to be. I’ll have to put up quite a fight I think to prevent her from force feeding me.
I’m going into Pavlodar on Thursday to buy my train ticket back to Almaty for New Years. I’m pretty excited to see my old family again, and Drew and Matthew are coming down as well so we’re gonna have a pretty good time I think. I need to work out when I can leave, because with the length of the train ride I would have to leave on the evening of the 29th to get there, and the 29th is my last day of work. I think I can work something out though, because I really don’t want to miss New Years, or spend it on a train. I also haven’t told people here in Zhelezinka, which I should probably do, since they seem pretty excited that I’ll be here for all the traditions. I didn’t want to say until I knew for sure, but as long as I can get a ticket, I’m going.
I think I’m settling into town pretty well though. My students are all saying hello to me in the halls, I’ve connected with my family for the most part and I’ve actually got night time activities. I need to know the language better (if I had a nickel…) if I’m going to make some real friends here I think, but there’s at least a crew of guys, some of which would be the ones that scared me if I saw them on the streets, that seem to like me and I enjoy them, even if I don’t understand them. I’ve gotta say thanks to Nora for this though, because without her I would probably spend all my free time here at my computer. It’s incredibly helpful having somebody who is knows the town (and English) and is willing to spend the time to help you get settled in and meet some people.
So how about the weather! It’s snows, then over the course of a week or so the snow sort of recedes or gets packed down really tight, then it snow again. It’s only been about an inch or two each time, and it’s not really getting much deeper, but it’s there. It’ll be quite an adventure when there’s waist and chest high snow on the ground, and it’s actually cold. The weather hasn’t been too bad, and I’m enjoying a weekend walk.
Other news, the playdoh I brought with me was a huge hit with my 7 year old cousin, Karina, and the rest of the family as well. We’ve spent a couple hours making all sorts of things, so I’m glad I brought that. I have yet to break out the checkers or the jacks, but they’ll come with time. Maybe when people have finally grown bored with me.
Also, I had an article in the local paper printed about me. I gave an interview and had my picture taken fake teaching. There were some strange questions in the interview, about when my brothers were born, are they married and do they live with my parents still. Aaron, were you born in ’78 or ’79. I said ’78 but later though maybe it was ’79. Anyway, you’re basically an old man. The article was half a page, so I’ll try to scan it or take a picture and send it to you guys to admire and attempt to understand.
I taught two classes all on my own today. The teacher had to go into Pavlodar for some reason, so I was left to fend for myself. I was excited about it, only a little worried. The first class was 7th graders. They were great, though slightly talkative. We did reflexive pronouns and it helped that I knew the Russian for them and could use that to help explain. We did some work, got it figured out then played a game with it that they enjoyed. They didn’t perfect it, but they understand how it works and which pronoun goes with which, so it wasn’t a total failure. Later their homeroom teacher found me and she told me that they loved my lesson and were really excited about it, which is exactly what I want from English lessons. If the kids are excited they will hopefully learn better.
The next class wasn’t quite such a success. Three of the kids were not paying much attention and didn’t seem to care about the lesson. They thought that since there was no “teacher” they could do what they want. I did my best to keep them in line, and it helps when they have nametags and I can call them out. Overall, I’m not entirely sure the grammar (passive voice) got through to them. It’s hard when you can’t explain something as complicated as grammar in Russian. They would translate it and I couldn’t tell them if they were right or not. I think they were. Anyway, at the end of class when I was giving marks, the three noisy kids got 3’s (grades are from 2-5, you never actually give a 1 and rarely a 2, so this was pretty bad) but two of them left the class before I could mark their scores in their books. I know their names though, so they aren’t getting off the hook.
On the connecting with family front, I’m doing pretty well. Tonight (the 4th) I did some actual chatting, managed to crack a joke or two (pretty basic slapstick stuff, but better than nothing). The more language I gain the more personality I’m allowed to have. Before, I was just the guy that nodded, smiled dumbly and spoke like a 2 year old. Now I’m the guy who speaks like a 3 year old, smiles dumbly a little less and genuinely laughs and throws in his ¼ cent to the conversation (I’m hoping to be up to 2 cents by the end of March). I still feel proud of myself when I feel like I managed something extraordinary in the Russian language, like explain that I always have marker on my hands because I make lots of posters for English class. Whoooo!
I was walking back from my counterparts house tonight (now it’s Thursday, the 6th) and it struck me how beautiful it was. It was lightly snowing and there was no starlight or moonlight, but it was still somewhat light out. The snow was covering everything and reflecting the meager lights coming from windows and an occasional streetlamp. It almost glowed with this light. The snow was frozen to tree branches and the shrubs lining the streets, making them look like ice crystals growing out of the ground. It silent except for my footsteps in the snow, and I was loving it.
I got all my affairs sorted out for my money and bank card since I lost my wallet a month ago. Thankfully that’s all done now and I can stop worrying about it and having to run into Pavlodar every other weekend to get something done. I have money, I have a train ticket, I shouldn’t need anything else from the city for three months.
I’ve been getting told a bit more by the guys around town that I need to get a girlfriend over here. It seems important to them, and they assure me I can have pretty much any woman just by telling them I’m a rich American with a car and tons of money. It’s an interesting thought, but I’m not really in any rush, and so far the only women I’ve really met are old enough to be my mother or kids in my class. Not too many options there. I’ve been told though that I’m just not looking in the right places. I’ll work on that.
That's about it for now. Everybody continue taking care and let me know what's happenign with your lives, as boring as it may be for you, I may find it interesting.

Quick Addendum answering Alex's questions: during the day it's been around -10 C here, at night it gets down to -20. It's really not all that bad, I've got warm clothes and since the heating died in our school they have been making it extra hot lately. My house is pretty warm too. The other day I learned how to scoop up coal and add it to the fire to keep the house warm. There are pipes that run heat throughout the house, all coming from this one wood/coal stove. Also, I learned where water comes from. What I thought were dog houses turned out to be wells, covered so they don't freeze. I got to lower a bucket on a long chain 22 meters to the water and haul it back up and fill our milk can with water. Pretty cool stuff. Alright, that's really all.

Things that Haven't Been In my Nose

2007-11-29T03:11:00.000-08:00

It would seem important to talk about the new family I have moved in with, but in my excitement to talk about frozen boogers, I forgot to mention it, and a few other things that have happened since I’ve gotten here. Now that I’ve gotten boogers off the brain, I’m free to talk.
I am living with a Tatar family. A mother, daughter and son. The mother, Galiya, is divorced and stays at home most of the day, cooking etc. The daughter, Ramzea, is a young teacher at my school. She teaches chemistry, and this is apparently her second year. She is four days older than me (Sept. 12th). The brother, whose name I have yet to learn, is studying at the Pedigogical College in Pavlodar, to be a geography teacher. He is home rarely I understand, but we just celebrated his birthday, so he has been home all weekend.
The birthday celebration was the typical Kazakhstani event. There was plenty of food, family and vodka. I ate my share of food and drank my toasts of vodka, which is getting easier every time (maybe that’s not a good thing). Anyway, my host moms brother and sister were there with their families, three young daughters. They were entertaining, saying they would take charge of teaching me Kazakh, which they study in school, and their parents speak some too. They are around the ages of 8-10, and a 13 year old daughter who is in one of my 8th grade classes apparently. It turns out that my other option for a family had been my current host-moms brother and sister-in-law, along with the two of the girls. I guess I’ll still be seeing plenty of them.
I always enjoy when families get together because the conversation is usually interesting, even when I don’t understand much. I try to absorb. The women are all very talkative while the men are quiet, especially my host brother. After all the toasts went around he stood to say his thanks, which amounted to a few words of his own, then his aunt feeding him the things he should say. It was pretty entertaining and I think this family will also be a lot of fun.
I also have an “adopted” host sister, Julie, who is Ramzea’s (remember my sister) best friend. She is over fairly often and is a lot of fun. We’ve played cards some and she likes to chat, so she’s been helping me to speak a bit more and practice my Russian. Apparently I don’t speak enough for them, which I think is just how I am usually. They think I should do a lot more speaking in order to practice what I’ve learned (which makes a bit of sense I suppose). I’m working on it, but I need to do some better independent study to expand my vocabulary. I can listen in to conversations, but without any context I have a hard time learning what they are talking about, then using some of it myself later.
My home is pretty small. There is a narrow kitchen, a central hallway/room, my bedroom across from the kitchen, a living room with a couch, two chairs and a massive cabinet, an entryway where the shoes, coats etc go, a heating room where water is heated, the sink (no running water) and the oven used to heat the coal that warms the house is. Finally, there is some sort of long closet which I think is also used for laundry. It’s behind a curtain and I’m not entirely what’s there, I haven’t looked too closely. We have a yard that in the spring and summer looks like it’ll be quite the garden, then behind another fence is the woodpile, the geese and the outhouse. There are some outer buildings, one of which has stacks of firewood, another has a large amount of coal and I’m not sure what’s in the other two. I live a very short walk from the school, which I can see from my front gate. I’m kitty corner across town from Nora (Hi Nora’s parents), and that walk only takes about 15 minutes. Not a big place really.
(Writing this a few days later after the rest of the stuff). I did my walking tour of the town because Peace Corps wants a map of the village in case they have to come find me. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of how to get to the main places in town now. It was pretty interesting. I walked around for the better part of two hours. I apparently missed the hospital, but I can get out there again if I need to. I found all three schools, the main shopping stuff, a coal factory thing, etc etc. It’s pretty interesting, the town isn’t all that huge. I live in the corner of it though, so I’m pretty far from everything.
I’ve been pretty busy the last couple days, which has been great. For a few days I was spending a lot of time playing games on my computer and I felt like I was hiding in my room. The last few days though I’ve gone and visited family, played volleyball, taught late classes, and today I had adult English Club and then visited my counterparts family. Slava’s wife, Tanya, is a lot of fun. She’s a mom now and all, but she’s definitely still young at heart, and she loves to play cards. We played for awhile, and I finished 5-7-2. Not too bad, but I was up 4-2 at one point. She wants to make sure I come again for more cards, and I assured her I will.
Adult English Club was fun, there were only three people. Two teachers from my school and a man who Slava was giving private lessons too that I had met earlier. He’s the dentist in town and has a very nice house. If you remember in a past installment I mentioned a two story house in town. It’s his, and the bottom floor is his clinic. Anyway, they all knew a little bit. We went through greetings and introductions, started some alphabet, then asked and answered questions after that. They want to read some comics, since they are pretty simple English. Parents, it’d be cool if you could send one or two of my Calvin and Hobbes or Garfield comics. They’re in a box somewhere. (I’m a fan of Scientific Process Goes Boink! And Two-headed Deranged Mutant Snowman). I’m excited for more adult English clubs, they’re pretty easy to teach and I have more freedom. There’re no tests, so I don’t have to follow a curriculum.
More volleyball, by the way. Last night there was a record turnout I think. Over 20 players, and maybe half as many watchers. When I showed up I was afraid it was a tournament or something. Anyway, I got on a team with only one guy I knew from before. Most were friendly, except for the one intense guy that was freaking out if there were some mistakes late in the game. We won three in a row though, until we finally lost. One of our games was really epic, with a late comeback by my team then a fierce battle, ending something like 28-26 us. (25 to win). I’m enjoying it, and definitely getting better. The guys are friendly and it’s a lot of fun when the games get intense like that.
Other events so far: ice fishing! This guy has gone ice fishing. It’s not the most exciting event. I went with Sasha, the military instructor at my school, and two of his friends, Sergei and other guy. We walked out onto the frozen river (frozen in November mind you) drilled four or five holes, put some sort of fish food in them, plopped down stools and sat there. Sasha showed me how to put the worms on the hook, how to watch for the cork to bob, and how to yank out the line. It’s not too complicated. About 20 seconds into the fishing I saw a bob, yanked the line and had a fish about 6-8 inches long. I thought, “at this rate I will clean out the entire river of fish in no time!”
I apparently didn’t have the process entirely figured out however. With Sasha’s help I had five or six fish pretty quickly. Then it slowed down, since I was putting the worms on wrong, wasn’t setting the hook when I yanked the line up right, and I was getting frustrated. It didn’t help that every time I had to pull the line up to add a worm or grab a fish, my gloves had to come off. It was cold. Soon I was dreading the bobbing of the line when a fish was hooked. My fingers and toes were getting very cold and I bitterly wanted to head back inside.
3 hours went by like this, and though I was enjoying the idea of what I was doing, the reality was cold and I was about ready to be done. Sasha came over, handed me a bag, and I knew it was done. I scooped up the pitiful dozen fish I had caught, looked at Sasha bag that had to have over 30 fish in it, and headed for the car. I did enjoy it though, I just needed an extra pair of socks for my toes, and to be faster at getting the worm on the hook. I told them I would go again. I was also told by Slava, my counterpart, that the reason I was so cold was because they weren’t drinking. An interesting idea, but I wasn’t looking to get buzzed at 9 am in the morning.
I’m getting comfortable in my home now, not sure if I mentioned that already. My room is getting all set up. I have my cup full of pens now, pictures lining my bookcase of all you guys, everything in its place. It’s feeling more homely now, which is something my room in Kaskelen didn’t have. I felt since I was there only temporarily I shouldn’t put up tons of stuff. It’s a helpful thing to feel really comfortable here. I can retreat when I’m getting frustrated or homesick or just plain grumpy, and since this is where I’ll be making lesson material and studying and playing on my computer, I’ll have you guys around me the whole time. There’s some pretty good pictures. Superbowl 40 (it’s not all bad memories from there), camping with the guys, Alex’s birthday, Huckleberry Picking, Safeco, Kayaking and plenty of the Family. I think I’ll start a collection of Addison pictures as she gets older. When I was at my CP (counterparts) house tonight, I kept thinking of what a little terror Addison will probably be in about 6 months when she’s running around tearing up Randy and Ellie’s condo. Good Luck you two, I’m sure you’re going to love it.
Another, shorter, story involving the cold. School has been cancelled two days in a row now, likely it will be a third by the time I post this, because the heating in our school hasn’t been working and it’s too cold to teach lessons. This is still in November!!! It’s going to get colder, much colder. When it was 0 degrees Celsius out, I was told it was a warm day. It’s gonna take some getting used to I think. Anyway, that’s it for this post. Oh, no its not.
Nora tells me that if you want to send me mail and you don’t want to bother writing in Russian or anything like that, it’s possible to just write:

Jeff Whitehill
Zhelezinka Village
Pavlodar Oblast
Kazakhstan, 140400

It got to Nora, so it will probably get to me too. Otherwise, email me and I will give you the full address.

Frozen Boogers

2007-11-18T19:46:00.000-08:00

So I thought maybe I should class this up, since I’ve discovered that more than just my family and friends are reading this blog now. People that maybe potentially I will ask for a job later, and they will say “Hey, aren’t you the frozen booger guy?” and I will have to answer that yes, in fact I am. But then I thought, what the hell, that just wouldn’t really be me. Okay, onto the booger story.
Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes) said it best. “There’s nothing worse than frozen boogers.” Or something like that. Anyway, I think I will develop a new temperature scale, measured in Calvins. It will be based on the temperature boogers freeze at, which I would guess is around -10 Celsius or so. Anyway, my boogers have been freezing when I go outside, and it’s really not all that pleasant. Something to think about.

Just yesterday I had one of those epiphinous moments. I was walking away from Nora’s (you remember Nora, the Kaz 18 here) English Club which I had attended. I looked to my left at a beautiful sunset (5.30 pm) and thought “Holy cow, I’m in Kazakhstan. I’m teaching English.” As many people have told me, this is an incredibly unique experience. Even when volunteering you don’t often get as integrated or as grassroots as we do here in Peace Corps. So I guess what I’m saying is, Lucky Me! I thought I’d add that for anybody who was thinking I was struggling (I am, but it’s worth it).
On the train from Almaty to Zhelezinka, my village (I’m now an official volunteer by the way, and have moved permanently up into Siberia), we met some young students who attend a quad lingual school (Turkish, English, Russian, Kazakh) who were in Almaty competing in the Academic Olympiads (a big thing over here, I’ll try to learn more real info). They were competing in physics, but at least two of them spoke pretty good English so we (me and the four other volunteers going to my oblast) talked with them for an hour or so. They seemed interested in us and America. We talked music, some history, geography etc. It’s always good when you meet somebody interested in what you are doing and that wants to learn more. They seemed like bright kids and I imagine in a school like theirs they can do quite well.
A sadder story, somewhere between the train and the bus station I lost my wallet. It may have been stolen, but I think it probably fell out of a pocket somewhere. Who knows, anyway, it’s gone.
On the bus to Zhelezinka I also met a few good people. The first was a woman who was an English teacher in Pavlodar. She saw my confused look about what to do with my two giant bags after the man at the back of the bus closed the doors and said something in Russian to me. She got the rest of the people to make way so I could shove my bags up into the bus. They filled up the aisle in the back, but I guess it wasn’t really a problem. I clambered over things to get to the back and squeezed in next to an older man. Sadly, I still can’t get a handle on names, so I can’t tell you what these two people’s names were, but they’re good people.
The older man began making a couple jokes that I didn’t understand but people who heard seemed to like them. Then we started talking in Russian. He told me I was the first American he had ever met. He had met a man from England, but no Americans. He also kept asking if I was married. He seemed to think it was strange. Maybe he thought I was older than 23, I never told him how old I was. He proposed I marry the English teacher sitting next to me but she insisted she was married and seemed quite embarrassed by the questions. Other interesting things he told me was that the only beautiful people in America are in Hollywood, but in Kazakhstan they were everywhere. (Considering I was on a bus whose occupants were mostly middle aged and older women, I couldn’t whole heartedly agree).
At our one stop on the 3 hour trip to Zhelezinka the man led me off the bus, smoked a cigarette, offering me one. Then he asked if I wanted a beer (it was 10.30 in the morning). I said I didn’t have enough money (which was true, but not the actual reason I didn’t want a breakfast beer, don’t worry mom). He took me inside and bought a sprite, offering me a drink. Then we went back outside for a minute, then his nephew and niece took us back inside. They bought me a cup of chai and a samsa (sort of like a triangular hot pocket, no cheese). They were friendly and we talked a little then everybody piled back on the bus.
I got to Zhelezinka a little after noon, where Army man from the school (remember: Hey, Shtata Washington!) met me and gave me a lift to my host family’s house. I greeted my new family, brought in my bags and sat down for a lunch. My host mom is quite the gabber, and I understand about 20% of what she says. That afternoon Ramzea (my host sister) left for a week long seminar somewhere. I didn’t understand and thought she said she’d be gone until 5, but I guess maybe it was five days or something. Who knows? Anyway, now it’s just mom and me. She talked for about an hour after dinner the first night, with me contributing a comment when I understood what she was talking about. She’ll probably realize soon what exactly I don’t understand because I don’t have anything to say about it except “mmmhmmm. Interesna, ahhh, xopowo (read harasho = good). Anyway, it’s fun because there are not a whole lot of awkward silences at this point where we’re still adapting to each other.
My good byes to my first host family were a little rough. Vala (my mom) gave me a quick hug and then turned around, I think she was crying. The guys were guys, handshakes and one armed hugs. Karolina (my sister) held out a hug for about a minute, which made me feel very good and loved. I’m glad I had the same impression on them that they had on me. Karolina has told me a couple times to not forget them, and I have assured her equally that’s not remotely possible. I’ve said it all before, but this family meant so much to me when I came to a strange country, didn’t speak the language and was freaking out on a fairly regular basis. They were a good filler for my American family, and don’t worry guys, I miss you too and love and all of that good stuff. I’d love to have you here with me, but I like to know I can do it without you. So far so good.
School started the day after I got into town. I attended four classes, which were pretty good. There’s trouble kids, like everywhere. For about 10 minutes in the first class I was alone with the kids and two of them decided that meant they could talk all they wanted. I tried to warn them that Slava would hear about it, but either they didn’t understand or didn’t care (I’m guessing it was the understanding) and so at the end of the class they got 3’s (out of 5). And if that doesn’t sound bad, on a scale of 1-5, the lowest students ever get are 2’s. Grading is different here; teachers do not want to fail the students. It looks bad for the teachers if they have failing students. I don’t know if I’ve explained this, but basically there is no such thing as cheating. Tests and any other work are all group projects as answers are passed around the class in not quite suppressed whispers. Anyway, it can make it frustrating for those of us that grew up in strict cheat-and-fail classes.
I played volleyball Wednesday night with Nora and 10 other men from the village. Volleyball here is a national sport, which I didn’t really register on my way to play. I’m used to sand, a bunch of people that include the likes of Julie Bunger, Luigi and other “odd” characters. Now, I’m not so good myself, but I figured I could hold my own and not embarrass myself. Boy, was I wrong. The guys were all friendly, but they’re intense too. It was a friendly game, but watching them warm up (I’ve never warmed up for volleyball), I thought any mistake would put me immediately on the blacklist. So what did I do right off the bat…tripped into the net and got tangled up, completely destroying it as I fell to the floor…
Not really, but wouldn’t that be sad. No, I wasn’t looking when they served the first ball and it landed basically at my feet. In addition, it was served by Nora. It wasn’t a big deal I guess, they didn’t seem to mind to much, but I embarrassed myself. I persevered though and manage to get a point or two for my team out of 5 games. Now, I’m taller than just about everybody in this country, but my spikes were next to nothing. I don’t know how these guys do it, but they can slam the ball over the net with more force than a cannon. I would “try” to hit the spike when it came at me, but not really. I was more thankful that it hadn’t knocked my head off. Anyway, my team won 3-2, so I guess it was a success, and I was invited to come back on Friday, which I am doing. Go me.
That night…wait back up. My host sister left for a seminar in the city the day I showed up, so it’s just been me and my mom. Anyway, last night her best friend came over, another girl that works at the school. My mom and I hung out with her. I showed pictures again, everybody agrees that Addi is super cute, my parents are beautiful, and Randy and I could be twins (much to my dismay). Oh, and they think Lea is our sister, and me and my friends are crazy when they see the picture in the Superbowl regalia, complete with facepaint. Anyway, apparently I’m the youngest brother, since Julie (Yulie) has adopted me as well. Ramzea, my sister is four days older than me and Julie is about six months. After pictures we played some cards and drank some chai until they could tell I was falling asleep at the table (11.30 at night, class at 9 the next morning). It’s a fun family, especially when you include the extended and adopted family members.
This is getting written up on my laptop so it will be a few days installment before I get it online, but I will have pretty consistent internet access. Basically anytime I’m at school and want to make the effort to get online. Send those emails, letters are going to be much appreciated too, there’s something very heart warming about having a physical letter in my hands, and in Siberia, anything that warms me is good. Include pictures if you want, because those are maybe even more awesome. You can send letters to the Almaty address and they will be forwarded here to Zhelezinka. Then when I write back, I will include my new address. This is the address the PC really doesn’t want the terrorists to know, so I can’t put it online. You can also email me for it I suppose. Anyway, write to me because I like to know what people are up to.

Homesickness and other News

2007-11-10T00:50:00.000-08:00

I miss all of you guys, quite a bit recently. I have been done teaching for over a week now, and I took my Russian test last weekend, so I have had a lot of free time to just hang around. So I have had lots of time to think, and look at all my old pictures. I've come to the conclusion that I miss everybody at home quite a bit, and it's no good when you have time to just dwell on these thoughts. I've been feeling pretty homesick as of late, but I think part of the problem is also that I'm leaving all my friends here in Kaskelen, and also my host-family who I've become incredibly attached too. It's amplifying the problem, and the thought of going off to my far away village without the vast support group I've developed here is pretty terrifying. They may only be a phone call or email away, but it's obviously not the same. Hopefully I can make some local friends quickly, and Nora will be able to put up with me while I'm there. I'm excited to get going on actual teaching in my school, but I've already said goodbye to a few friends and my teacher, which has not been easy. I made a couple toasts when we wer sitting around some meals last night, and I surprised myself by getting a tiny bit choked up. No tears, but that's how much these people have meant to me in my almost three months here already. So to any of them that may read this, or their parents, Jackie, Drew, Matthew, Kim, I couldn't have survived here without you. My host family was also a big part of my survival, I had doubts about Peace Corps in Kazakhstan, but they were a great influence and showed me how great the people are here. Indira, my teacher, had incredible patience in dealing with my early frustrations (and they were huge) and her perseverence has made me into a semi descent Russian speaker. The rest of the volunteers, including Daniel, Chelsea, Chrisconsin, Darkside Chris, Casey and Jessica more than otehhers, you were always great for a laugh and I enjoyed the bus rides to Hub Days and all the rest of the time we spent together, and look forward to seeing you all again in a few months.

My Russian test: Peace Corps has some sort of scale, I think it's an official sort of thing used by governments and whatnot. It is from 1-10, rating Novice, Intermediate, Advanced and Superior, and then low medium and high in each of those categories. Peace Corps wanted us to get Novice high (OCAP was supposed to get Intermediate Low - they are the business developers). Well Matthew, Drew and I all got Intermediate Low, which we are very proud of. That basically means I am able to carry on a basic conversation in limited, slow and erroneous Russian with somebody patient enough to listen to me. This is pretty good. I can survive. At this point as well, our Russian I think will improve faster, and in the next few months I hope to be able to do a lot more. Anyway, kudos to me.

What else...oh yeah, I am now an official volunteer. I have been only a trainee, but on Friday we had the official swearing in ceremony where I had to promise to uphold the constitution and defend America from enemies etc etc. I hadn't realized we were going to have to say all that stuff, it was interesting, but now I guess I have some big responsibilites. The ambassador to Kazakhstan swore us in, which was cool, but my camera died so I couldn't get my picture with him, or with anybody else, or of anything there. So just imagine a small auditorium, kinda nice, filled with our families and people we have worked with. Rows of chairs with the volunteers up on stage, speeches by people in Russian and English, songs and slideshows (ours was the best song, Kazakhstan Living, if you remember) and then a big Repeat After Me. Afterwords was food and hugs and everything, most volunteers said goodbye to each other there. It was interesting, but nobody thought it was any sort of big change. Anyway, I can probably get pictures from other people, it'll just take some time.

That's about it, I'm going to get on a train in about 7 hours and head up to the frozen North. It's been really cold in Kazakhstan so I'm expecting lots of snow in my village. Ihad a dream that I couldn't get a bus or taxi to take me out there because the roads were all closed, but hopefully that doesn't happen. Anyway, take care all, I miss you and am thinking about you a lot. Take care and write often.

-Jeffik

My Russian test

The need for more language

2007-11-02T03:07:00.000-07:00

Alright, so I've got some free time, I'm hitting up the internet. Somet deep thoughts for y'all.

I haven't been able to choose my friends. Us five volunteers got thrown together in this village, learning Russian, trying to survive the various ins and outs of Peace Corps life, and we are forced to be friends. Thankfully, this has turned out very well. I've become great friends with the two guys, and though I hang out with the girls a little less, they're always fun in class and I enjoy our friendship. I don't know if its the fact that we're going through this all together, but we have all become very good friends. I bring this up because we came to the realization that in aobut a week, we will only see each other a few more times over the course of two years. None of us are "near" each other in this country. I think the closest person is Jackie, who is probably a 20 hour train ride away. Not exactly a day trip. It's not going to be so easy when I vanish up to the cold north and my only companty for a few months, until I've made some good local friends, will be snowmen and small children. Granted Nora is up there, but I've spent these last two months creating some great inside jokes with my training group, and I'm going to have to start that all over again. I think I'm lucky though, because Nora seems like she'll be fun, and not some weirdo I'll have to avoid.

Whate else is going on. My language test is tomorrow, though I'm not too worried about it. Coming to Kazakhstan, we were warned about all these things that could get us kicked out, and we have to pass this and that test and all sorts of things, but we've come to realize they don't want to send us home, and we're almost guarenteed to be able to continue. We would have to do something really stupid or irresponsible to get sent home. Therefore my training group, and I hope to spread it to the rest of the Kaz-19's, has adopted the slogan "What're you gonna do, send us home?" Hopefully this comment won't get me sent home. John Drodos, the Country Director reads this, Hi John, but I think he can have a good sense of humor. Either that or I'll hear about it next hub day.

I met a man today, a construction worker, and if I understood him correctly, he was telling us a story about how he fought for the Soviets in Afghanistan, and he showed up a large scar on his chest. He said something about how we are similar now because my people are also fighting in Afghanistan. it was interesting and I look forward to the time when I can really understand what peopel are trying to tell me, and respond with real comments or questions besides just, "oh, yes, interesting!" I missed this converstaion, but I guess my host uncle was telling two of my friends aobut how he served on a Soviet submarine during the Cold War. It will be very interesting to hear all the stories from this side of the Iron Curtain.

I now own a really sweet fur hat, complete with ear flaps.

I talked with my host family last night about American politics a little bit, but honestly I don't follow the subject closely, so I didn't have a whole lot to say. My family was telling me they think Hilary Clinton would make a great president and I should vote for her, but Barack Obama (they only knew him as the black guy), would not be good. I couldn't get any solid reasons, at least that I understand, but it's interesting that in a society where women have set roles in the house and kitchen, they would think a woman would make a great president. Again, the need for more language skills. My teacher praises me for how I"m doing now, but the problem is my language doesn't extend beyond basic needs and chit chat type conversation. I'm eager for it to get farther along, and the process is slowly driving me insane I think.

I think that's about all I have to talk about, I can't think of any really good anecdotes to tell about my time. I'll try and work some mroe out, get them down on paper somewehre so I'm not trying to do this all from memory. Until then, take care everybody and write often, I love hearing from you guys.

-Jeff

All my fingers and toes

2007-10-28T06:05:00.000-07:00

Alright, I am back in Almaty, where I don't have to wear a fur coat outside, and I've got the full skinny of what happened on my site visit.

Train ride: Long, first time fun, second time boring. Lots of cards, some reading, and some sleeping. On the way back, 3 Americans and a couple confused Kazakhstani's. That's about all you need to know about that.

Zhelezinka: It snowed, but not deep enough to completely cover the ground. Apparently this was one of the worst times to visit. No grass because it's too cold, but not tons of snow to beautify all the dirt and empty fields. Ah well, I will see it in a bit. I stayed with my Counterpart (the guy I will teach with) and his wife adn 15 month old daughter. It hink this was all mentioned before. Anyway, it was a good time, but I didn't get out much to see the town and meet people which I wanted. I did meet some of the other teachers in the school, and will be living with on eof them. Later. Now, Zhelezinka hass only a couple paved roads, one that goes to Pavlodar and the rest are in the center. My home and school are on the edge of town, the southern edge I think. The school is big, with labeled classrooms, a good computer center, an air rifle range in teh basement, and a pretty good sports program. There is also some sort of sports club in town I can go to play volleyball or anything like that. I may take up hockey, we'll see. There are a couple good shops and some cafes, though they don't see much action. There is another PC volunteer in town who teaches at the Kazakh school, Nora Williams. She was cool, she can speak fluent Russian and pretty good Kazakh, so I've got some catching up to do.

I have a Russian language tutor who is like a grandma too me, feeding me large meals, drinking wine with her husband and speaking very slowly so I can understand. They're sweet people and lessons should be fun, since she doesn't speak any English and there will likely be a lot of confusion.

My host family is going to be a Tatar Muslim family. There is a mother (either widowed or divorced, I'm not sure) who is cheerful an dhas a good laugh an dis very patient with my Russian. My host sister is a 23 year old chemisty teacher at my school. There is a younger brother who is studying in Pavlodar I think, and that's it. My toilet is outide, no running water and heating is through a wood and coal stove. It's closer to what I expected from the PC, and should be pretty interesting. Though, being Muslim, it's not likely they'll feed me a lot of bacon.

I managed to stay warm enough in my fur/leather coat and a big furry hat on my head. My school has a group of male teachers that all hang out in the metal shop and talk between classes, so I'm thinking I can get in on this mens club. The military teacher in school greeted me in a store by yelling "Hey, shtata Washington!" so I think he and I are tight. I am having all the unmarried women pointed out to me by my CP ( I may have said this already) and one student already offered to have me over and she would make me tea and cook for me. Interesting.

Other things to tell...nothing really. I'm looking forward to really getting into my community, Nora seems to be really well connected, but I'm not looking forward to leaving my current host family. I have gotten close with them and definitely missed them during my site visit. They have made me feel very at home. Anybody that comes to visit me, I will take you to meet them and you'll understand my attachment. That's all though, Alex I hope Hockey is good for you (I'm thinking of trying to start my own team up here, we'll see how that goes, I may have identified a potential player but haven't asked him if he knows the game yet). Write some letters or emails, I love hearing from you all, and I promise there will be pictures in two weeks or less. Fso(that's all), Baka.

Is it cold in here, or is it just me?

2007-10-23T03:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, here is a quick update about my recent activities:

I took a 33ish horu train ride north with my counterpart and three other volunteers to see my permanent site where I will be teachign for 2 years. My counterpart is a big man, said by many to look like Dolf Lundgren from Rocky IV. He's friendly and has a good sense of humor though, not too scary when you get to know him. I am staying with him and his wife and 15 month old daughter, so I get to see how little Addison will be in a year. Randy and Ellie, you'll have your hands full, but you already knew that.

I did some team teaching today, helping my coutnerpart with his two classes. There are less than 10 kids in both classes adn I didn't do much besides give examples and correct some mistakes. It was fun though and the kids that paid attention were fairly decent in English and seemed very eager to learn. I think I'm running out of time, I"m going to meet a potential host family next.

Briefly, my town is 5000 people, spread out on the steppe. It's cold already, below freezing when the wind blows (which is always, it's the steppe) and by February I may be a popsicle wrapped up in a fur coat. My walk to school is only about 5 minutes now, but I don't know where I'll be living in three weeks. The school is big, has fast internet, sports and nice classrooms. I'm excited to really get going with my kids and get settled in here. That's all for now, hope to hear from you all soon. Write me emails and letters whenever you get the chance. Which reminds me, I will be gettign a new address for letters and packages when I move up here, but if you want it you will have to message me, because I'm not supposed to post it on the internet. Or, if you write letters to my old address, they will be forwarded to me and I will reply in them with my new address. Talk to you all later, adios. I mean Baka.

Got Chased by a Big Guy

2007-10-16T01:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, here’s another sweet blog. It’s been about a month I guess since I’ve gotten on the internet and sent any real, meaningful messages, so I’m going to pack them all into this one mega message. It’s gonna take some work figuring out what all happened in the last few weeks, but I’ll piece it together.
Kazebration
Every group in Kazakhstan has to organize a community project. The goal is to involve the people of your community and do something meaningful and maybe even helpful for them. Our group of 11 volunteers in Kaskelen decided to put on a cultural celebration at our school. With much help from the directors and other staff of the school we had a big festival one Sunday morning. There was only a turnout of maybe 100 or so spectators, but we had dancing, singing, some sweet juggling (that was me), and an amazing skit about the Peace Corps. Everybody seemed very entertained and we were told by our supervisors that it was one of the better they’ve seen.
The highlight of the festival, at least for me, was our rendition of Kazakhstan living. The song was written and performed by us volunteers. Set to the tune of Honky Tonk Woman by the Rolling Stones with a guitar accompaniment by Casey Meyering (also a UW graduate, 07 by the way) and some harmonica solo by Drew Stinson. I’ll put out the words here, you can try and sing along if you’d like. We will be performing it probably twice more, so hopefully I can get some video and set it up for you guys. I will be the guy standing as far away from the microphone as possible.
Kazakhstan Livin’
Walkin down the street, road beneath my feet in Kaskelen
Lookin for shashlik (really tasty kabob) and tryin hard to speak pa-ruskie (in Russian)
Ya ochetil b shkoloo Kierembekov E Belinski (I teach in Kierembekov and Belinksy school)
If you see me in the halls, just say "Hello!"
Cause it’s Kaaaaaaazakhstan Livin!
Gimme, gimme, gimme the Kazakhstan life
Sitting at the table smia simya (my family)
Kooshit kooshit I can’t eat no more
Eatin lots of meat I’m getting tons of gristle
And this bisbarmak is starin up at me
Chorus
Solo
Chorus
Goin to the banya cmia papa
Sweat is drippin out of every pore
Takin quite a beating from this oak branch
Zharka Zharka (hot) get me out of here!
Chorus
The End
It’s much better set to music and with actual singing, not reading. Trust me. You’ll see.
Anyway, after the song and dance business, the director of our school invited us to a feast of traditional Kazakh foods. Guess what that included. Sheeps head. My first experience with it, I was given some meat from around the lip. Honestly, it didn’t taste so bad, but the head was sitting on the table and looking right at me, and I was having a little trouble, but I got it all down without a problem. Not something I want to repeat, but I think I can manage. The rest of the food was pretty good, but we also tried Camels Milk (drinkable but not too good) and Mares Milk (I had two sips and it was so sour I thought my head was going to turn inside out). It was all pretty interesting though, we made rounds of toasts and drank some vodka and cognac.
At this point the director left, and we were getting ready to leave as well, when a group of teachers from the school came in with a bottle of vodka. They told us there is a tradition that if you get up from the table and you aren’t wobbling, then you need to stay and drink some more. So they filled a bowl with the fifth of vodka and told us we had to pass it around the table and say one wish for ourselves and one wish for everybody else. This woman also decided that I would be the last one in line, and the last person is supposed to drain whatever is left in the bowl. Well anyway, it went around the table, it got to me and there was still a sizeable amount left, so I drank my fair share, but decided to include these teachers. When I handed the bowl off though, the produced another bottle and filled it up again and went at it, but threw Casey and I in there again. I had to take two more huge mouthfuls, as did two other of my volunteers. All in all, not my favorite game, but you guys should give it a shot at home. It really brings you together.
Okay, and the last note from the Kazebration. At the end of the singing and dancing, we held a soccer game between us 12 volunteers and 12 students from the two schools. Two 15 minutes halves. It was pretty pathetic, we were losing 3-0 in about five minutes, but I’m pretty sure the referee who is also the JROTC type guy at the school told them not to beat us, because we miraculously scored 3 goals and tied it. It helped that about 20 small children joined our team and all the older kids were mobbed by a swarm of them every time they got the ball. Myself, I scored two goals and was given the game ball. The game ended in a 5-5 tie. I only fell once when I tried to start running after the ball and my feet stayed put and my body went forward. It was a lot of fun, and I’m excited for more chances to play.
Okay, new subject
Pavlodar
Pavlodar is very far north. It is actually part of Siberia. I won’t be in Pavlodar. I will be 2.5 hours north of Pavlodar, about 60 miles from the Russian border in a small village of 5000 called Zhelezinka. There are three schools, two Russian and a Kazakh. Two of the schools have already had a volunteer teacher (there is actually one currently there). I will be the first volunteer in my school, which I’m excited about. The word from this other volunteer is that I will be teaching the 5th, 10th and 11th grades, but that is subject to change. My counterpart is the assistant director at the school, and he was recently promoted.
Other things of note about the village: it is on a large river, it is surrounded by steppe mostly, with some forest, it gets to -40 degrees in the winter, there is a fitness center where I can do wrestling, judo, weightlifting, soccer, volleyball, tennis etc. My school has an air rifle range in the basement. There is internet in town. That’s about it. I’m going to visit it in a week and a half, so I’ll have more news after that.
Last Night
Funny story. Last night I was walking some friends home from my house (other volunteers) after playing cards. I went one way to drop off one girl and another guy went another way to drop off the other girl so we could save some time. Anyway, after I dropped off this girl, I was walking to meet the guy when I heard some yelling and whistling behind me. I looked over my shoulder and there was a huge Kazakhstani guy running after me, about 20 feet back. I took off running, bolted around the corner and looked back after another 50 feet but he was gone. A little freaked out I called my buddy and told him to hurry the f--- up and we headed home.

Other news, I was sick with a fever up to 102 for a couple days, some sort of bacteria infection., I'm better now. I have little time as I'm supposed to be meeting people at our bazaar to buy some things pretty soon. I will not be staying in a giant hotel I was just told, so no special intenet contact like I was hoping. I have my mailing address up on facebook for thеры ща нyouthat can check that,and want to send me letters or packages. In about a month it will be changing since I will be living up North for 2 years, and if you want that address you can email me about it, but Peace Corps will continue to forward letters that are sent to the old address. That's all for now, adios.

Quick Post

2007-10-12T01:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, I only have a few more minutes before I have to jet. My family has been wihtout internet and I've been too lazy to come to the one internet cafe in town. I finally broke down, so here's the quick skinny.

I finished teaching today. I found out I'm going to a village of 5000 people north of Pavlodar, called Zhelizinky (I don't have the paper, so the spelling may be off). If you want to send me letters, email me at jrwhitehill@gmail.com and I will send my address, though it is going to change in about a month when I move to this tiny permanent site. It's way in teh north and gets to -40 degrees, so it should be awesome.

What else...I don't know right now, I'll work on it later. But next week I will be staying in Hotel Kazakhstan for a conference. Three days with free wireless internet. After that a 40 hour train ride out to visit my permanent site and teach for a few days, then back to Almaty for two more weeks. That's all for now, take care all.

-Jeff

There's hope yet...for bacon.

2007-09-17T01:14:00.000-07:00

Okay, considering most of thes blogs will be written over the course of at least a week, I figured maybe some subtitles are in order so that there is at least a semblance of coherency. Also, if I go to teh North, they eat lots of bacon, so let's keep our fingers crossed.

Language

Russian makes very little sense. Apparently English has somethign like 26 verb tenses (so I'm told), but Russian only has three. They have casses. Sentences can be in any order the speaker/writer wants, you just change the ending of the word based on it's role in the sentence. So I could say "Jeff loves to eat bacon" or "Bacon loves to eat Jeff" (also probably true). Numbered things have different endings for some reason, if they are 1, 2-4, or 5+. Why, nobody seems to know. Therefore my secondary project (other than teaching English) is going to be fixing Russian so it makes sense. First we'll get rid of teh silly cyrillic alphabet and use the good old Latin one, then words will be in a set order. I'd understand so much better if they could do that. For now though, my conversations are limited to fruits and vegetables, my hobbies (what they are, not anything about them), where I am from, and what I am doing here.

Teaching

is awesome. I love the kids, and many of them seem to love learning English. Typically, the younger teh more energetic and eager, but all students participate in class when they can. Every time I walk through the halls I hear a chorus of "hello's" and "good morning teacher" (no matter the time of day). I've taught an entire 45 minute lesson now myself on the Past Continuous (I had to figure out what it was myself first) and I think the kids understood. My class is 10th grade. We are doing English club where the kids can practice their English some more, and jsut hang out with the Americans. They told us they are very eager to learn about American culture, so we're going to work on that for the next one.

The Weather

is getting better. It's starting to cool down a bit, and I don't drip sweat everywhere I walk now. It will be exciting to actually wear a sweater to school some day. I'm very much hoping to get sent up North in two months, where snow is on the ground 4 months out of the year (I think). It has rained twice, once in the middle of the night and once in the evening, but it was still hot and I think the rain evaporated as soon as it touched the ground.

Family

is great. My sister Karolina helps me with homework and seems to love correcting my horribly pronounced Russian. My host father took me and another volunteer to a football game (more later) and my mother is always making sure I'm comfortable and have had enough to eat. My birthday was incredibly exciting because tons of family came over and there was a big bbq with awesome food, and lots of beer all through out. The man sitting next to me (some sort of cousin) kept trying to get me very drunk, and when he had to leave, somebody else took over his job. Cards is a weekly occurence, usually before and after banya, and soemtimes other nights. They definitely make life much easier and fun here, and I don't think I would have survived without them.

The Football Game

Sergei (host father) took Matthew (another PCT) to a football match in Almaty on the 12th. It was the Kazakhstan national team vs Belgium. The crowd was very much into the game and blue and yellow was everywhere. Apparently Belgium is a pretty good team, and at half time they were up 2-0. Kazakhstan was disheartened adn the fans still cheered mightily, and even more so when their team scored a goal, making it 2-1. With only 10 minutes left, Belgium fouled Kazakhstan in the box adn they got a PK. The shot was perfect and it was tied 2-2. The crowd was insane, and I have some video that I will try to get up. Well anyway, apparently a tie was qutie a victory for the Kazakhstanis adn everybody was excited when the game ended soon after.

Wrapping up, it's great to hear from you all and I love your messages. I'm still having fun, no regrets. I will learn where my permanent site is in a few weeks, so that's exciting, but until then I have tons of classes to teach and English clubs to run. Take care all and keep writing

-Jeff

The long awaited update

2007-09-11T09:10:00.000-07:00

Bacon. I lose sleep over it. Where’s the Bacon? Will I remember what it tastes like two years from now? Is Aaron eating bacon right now? Can you make bacon from an animal other than a pig? These are my questions. I want some bacon, but this is (technically) a Muslim country and there aren’t too many pork products. Hell, do they even have a word for Bacon? Anyway, I really want some bacon right now, and it’s making me question coming to a non-pork country. Moving on.
This is my first real entry in this blog, and a surprising amount has happened in the two weeks that I’ve been gone. For those that don’t know all the details yet, I am in Almaty, living with a host family. I’ve been with the family for a week now. I have a mother, Vala, and a father, Sergei, a 22 year old brother Vasa, and a 15 year old sister, Karolina who is currently vacuuming outside my door. She calls herself a Cinderella. Anyway, my adventure began before that however, in a place called Tabagan, which is a ski resort in the mountains above Almaty.
It was here that we had safety and policy lectures, medical lectures, and our first cross cultural and language classes. My Russian is still very bad, but we have 4-6 hours of Russian class five days a week, so I am learning quickly (hopefully). In Tabagan we also got an inordinate amount of shots, including Rabies (three volunteers had already been bitten by dogs less than two days with our host families). Anyway, I’ve had my arm stuck 9 times already by our beloved medical officer, Victor.
After two and a half days at Tabagan, we were ushered off to our families with extremely limited Russian. The first group of volunteers was dropped off in Almalybak and I saw one volunteer, Rambo (yes that’s his real name), get herded to a car by a half dozen small children. It was pretty entertaining. My group was taken to the village of Kackilian (Kackeлen) where I met my mother. Another volunteer, Mathew, is living about a block away with my host aunt. It turns out my mother is a teacher and speaks pretty good English, and so does my brother, Vasa. My father and sister both speak German. It’s an interesting time, and when my mother isn’t around it takes a lot of time with the dictionary and hand gestures to figure out what we are talking about. Conversation is usually limited to: Are you hungry? What? Hungry? What? Eat? Oh, yeah, Da. Anyway, it’s quite the experience and I’m enjoying myself.
The food has all been good so far. I haven’t had any sheep face (it doesn’t seem all that common, at least around here), and I had horse meat for the first time on Saturday. It was the first day of school and there was a large assembly in the soccer field (stadium) and a presentation that lasted an hour. We met the director then took a tour of the school and met a few classes, some of which couldn’t believe or didn’t understand we would be their teachers. We then had lunch and the director joined us and served us the horse meat, a delicacy apparently.
The director is a very imposing man that commands a lot of respect from his teachers and students. He has a large office, and when he enters a room everybody is quiet. We talked with him some, through a translator, and he was telling jokes and laughing and having a good time, so I liked him.
My training group is me and four other volunteers – Matthew, Drew, Jackie (Jessica) and Kim. It’s a good group and we have fun during our language classes. Our teacher is nice and tries hard to make sure we understand what is going on, but the language is very difficult. I’ve figured out the alphabet fairly well, now it’s just a matter of putting sentence together. Russian nouns and adjectives and what not are put into cases depending on the sentence. They can be in any order and it is the case that tells you their role in the sentence, so it’s hard to understand how to make sentences. Seeing as this is my first week really, I don’t think I should worry yet.
Kackilian isn’t a village in a sense that you’d think a third world country would be. Most streets are paved, houses have power and there are tons of cars. My family lives in the middle class range, including dial up internet, two TVs and a microwave. I eat well and enjoy the food, including the chai that comes 3-4 times a day. The people are typically friendly when you meet them and the kids are excited to meet an American. For many we are the first Americans in the flesh. American culture is everywhere. My host sister loves Fall Out Boy, Lincoln Park and Johnny Depp.
It’s pretty hot here, probably a little hotter than Seattle was when I left, but as long as I’m in the shade I’m doing alright. I have to wear long pants to work which doesn’t help, but I’m feeling pretty professional so I don’t mind it.
I’ve only drank one night I’ve been here, and not that much. Some out of town family came and I had a few shots of vodka with them. It was pretty rough the first full shot, but I got through it, then had mini half shots after that. To be honest, vodka is vodka to me and I don’t think this was any special kind.
I also have a flush toilet and a shower, just so you all know. The first night with my host family though (Saturday, August 25th) I banya’d. The banya is basically a sauna, so I stripped down to my birthday suit along with another volunteer and our host uncle or cousin, I wasn’t sure. You sit in the heat for some time, and then somebody whacks you with some soft branches. The entire time it’s so hot it hurts to breath and you keep splashing cold water on your face. After about four or five minutes we stepped out into the other room, put on our underwear and went outside to dump buckets of cold water over ourselves. Then we went back in and washed our hair etc. It was quite the cultural experience and since we had no idea what we were doing Alex, the Kazakhstani cousin/uncle sort of guided us with points and Russian words like Sadiz (sit).
Okay, since this blog is being written on my laptop over time while I look for internet where I can load this up, I’m now continuing. I got to go into Almaty, and I bought a cell phone there. Don’t expect any phone calls from me though, it costs a few dollars a minute, and I don’t really have that kind of money right now. But I can talk to other volunteers, and whatnot, so that’s a bonus. My group of volunteers spent a long time walking around class cases sort of like at a jewelry store with hundreds of cell phones, looking for the cheapest one, but our language teacher kept disapproving, and we could never quite figure out why. Finally we went to an official looking counter and got a Nokia phone. It seems like pretty much every volunteer ends up getting the same phone. It was around $45 dollars, which was a large junk of our monthly allowance.
Anyway, that’s not the exciting part of Almaty. We went to the top of a mountain by cable car (not that big of a mountain). The mountain was called Kok-Toobye (that’s how you pronounce it at least). Up there, we got our pictures taken with some random Beatles statues, which was probably one of the highlights of this adventure so far. They had Beatles music playing over a speaker near the statues, and we kept hoping to hear “Back in the USSR,” but no luck. Anyway, after that we just enjoyed the view of Almaty at night. It was interesting, because Almaty’s tallest buidings are only about 15 stories tall. It is an earthquake prone area and so they don’t want anything too tall. After that, it was the ride home and sleep at 11 pm, pretty late for me sadly.
I begin teaching tomorrow (Monday) which will probably be after this blog actually gets posted. I’m going to teach about fruits and the difference between likes and favorites. Should be filled with excitement and keep the students on the edge of their seats. Anyway, I’m looking forward to it.
So far I don’t have any really funny anecdotes to share or anything, life is pretty normal. We went to the bazaar and gave all the women a good laugh trying to pronounce the names of foods and whatnot. That’s pretty much it.

Other notes of consequence:
-Kazakhstani chocolate is the best I’ve had so far
-It’s quite fun sitting around drinking tea and asking shto eta (what’s this?)
-Kazakhi’s are some of the most hospitable people
-Most Kazakh teenagers look like models
-Pamagat (help me) and pamidor (tomato) are two different things
-Reading is never so enjoyable as when it breaks up long awkward silences between people who can’t speak each others languages

Anyway, that’s all for now. I miss folks back home and all the excitement you guys are having. Keep in touch with me, it means a lot when I get emails, and even more so if I get a letter. Leave me your email address and I will send you the address for my letters since I’m not supposed to post it online if you want to send me a letter (or a packageJ) Take care etc.

-Jeff

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2007-08-21T13:29:00.000-07:00

Okay folks, I'm getting close to board a plane and begin my 2893243 hour flight to Frankfurt and from there to Almaty, Kazakhstan. I've been briefed and rebriefed on safety and policy issues so that I don't die or get sent home once I've gotten there. I met about 73 other volunteers in DC, and I remember maybe half their names at this point. They all seem pretty cool, but I'm keeping an eye on them in case they slip.

Anyway, I won't be able to talk for about a week once I get to the Kaz, so don't expect anything exciting coming from me for a little while. Wednesday night/Thursday morning I will be moving into a hotel in the mountains above Almaty, then on Sunday after lunch I move in with my family. Language lessons will be in small groups of about five, and they will take up the majority of my six day a week classes. Other than that, it's hands on training in classrooms for a total of three months before they send me off to some small, lonely post in the middle of nowhere. Most likely I'll be far away from internet and will only have time to get online once a week at the most.

Anyway, I'll be missing you kids, not now, but in a while. Take care, keep me up to date with what's happening in the world, and if you want to send me a hand written letter, you can get my address from my parents or email me and I'll send it to you. That's it.

-Jeff

Stage Diving?

2007-08-19T16:46:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm not diving or anything. I'm sitting in a hotel bar right now, where I had just spent the last four hours listening to safety information and other technical stuff. Before that I spent three hours mixing with other volunteers. I've met many people, most of them seem pretty cool. This isn't a long post because there isn't much to say. In a couple days I will be in Kazakhstan and that's when the really interesting stuff happens. For now, I listen to people talk, sometimes I get to do interactive stuff, and now I'm going out to dinner. Anyway, miss most of you (only the cool ones, you can debate who that is), and send me emails etc as time goes by so I know you haven't forgot about me.

Expecting the Unexpected

2007-06-21T02:42:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I've spent a vast majority of my time lately reading other PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) blogs, and trying to get a handle on what I've gotten myself into. I thought I'd compile a list to encompass the main themes:

1)Eating parts of an animal I never would have guessed were edible.
I have read stories about eating sheeps FACES!!! Cow tongue with a glaze of cow ear (not sure I understand this, but that's what I've been told), homemade Horse sausages (made as they originally were, look it up) etc.

2) Vodka, and lots of it, often home made. I'm actually looking forward to preparing myself for this aspect.

3) Squating: specifically, over a hole in an outhouse

4) Dog bites: it seems that even if I can manage to find one or two friendly dogs wherever I'm at, I can expect to be bit at least once.

5) Geese, and probably aggressive. I don't know if it's considered offensive to kick another man's goose, but I know I consider another mans goose bite to be offensive, and I'm prepared to go for 3 points if one of those suckers gets into kicking distance of me.

6) Poop, everywhere. Randy would probably love it, but stories of vast fields of dung throughout the streets doesn't appeal to me

7) Falling, frequently and painfully on the sheets of ice that seem to coat everything in Kazakhstan in the winter

8) Strange and exciting sports: soccer may be a major national pasttime, which I am very much loking forared to, but I have also read about goat carcass polo type matches, horseback wresting and more exotic activities

9) Friendly and talkative people: It seems the host families, their friends, neighbors, and anybody else I might meet seem to be excited to talk and practice English or pamper me, etc.

10) Holidays: The Kazakh people seem to love a celebration, and apparently have plenty of holidays. Dancing, singing, drinking (see #2), food and friends are the most common themes for these events.

That's all I have for now. I'm incredibly excited for this, and the more I read the more I want to get started right away. I'm jealous of people that already get to experience all of this, and there is nothing that I'm not looking forward to. Except maybe Sheep's face, I hear it's not so good.

Just the Beginning

2007-06-18T16:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it seems a good idea that since I'm heading off to Kazakhstan (yes, where Borat is from), I should catalogue my adventures for all of you. Rather than constantly sending out emails, you folks can check my website and see what I've been up to lately. I can post pictures and all sorts of other good stuff.

It's still two months until I leave for staging and training, but I'm already incredibly excited. Any time I read new stuff about my coming adventure, I get more and more eager. I want to squeeze in as much fun with all you folks around here before I go. That's all for now, I'll keep posting my thoughts on what I'm getting myself into.