30 July 2008

Kyrgyz Kids


These pictures are the favorites I have taken in Kyrgyzstan, they are the various children that I played with recently. Shockingly diverse, they represent Turkish, Kyrgyz, Russian, Tatar, Uzbek, and Caucus families.





19:30 29 July 2008

Yesterday, I brought out the Frisbee and played for hours. The game attracted various people, everyone from little kids to young adolescent boys took part. The boys were funny as they first were at first too cool for it and merely watched from the side, but then ended up laughing and taking part once Laura or I prodded them enough to. It was also a great way to teach English outside of the classroom. One kid in particular was very eager to learn and by the end of the game was able to say “I see a singular noun” and “I see plural noun” with a good variety of things from cookies to cars to girls and boys. It was very rewarding to see such a non committal exercise have such good results. I can only hope that he remains as excited about learning language at home and keeps up with it.

English Club Remix


21:00 29 July 2008

Today was a very exciting day. As part of the community assignments for Peace Corps, each TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) trainees are required to start English clubs in their community. This gives us an opportunity to practice lesson planning, working together, and trying out various learned teaching techniques. Initially I was skeptical about both the usefulness of such an event (I was of the opinion that it would be more valuable to spend our time learning Russian and Kyrgyz than trying to hold English clubs) but after our first event, my outlook has completely changed.

We held our first meeting in the village’s school. The nice thing about being a volunteer in a Post-Soviet country is that, while it is old, of poor-quality, and literally crumbling, infrastructure does exist. My village’s school is a Soviet cookie cutter building but does contain desks, chairs, and chalkboards, and even maps (complete with the good ole’ C.C.C.P.). After discussing what we wanted to teach our children for the first day, we decided to start with introductory phrases “Hello. My name is _____.”, “What is your name?”, “Nice to meet you.” and play some games with them. Then we moved on to the bulk of the lesson, common animals. Being that it was a voluntary English Club rather than class, we made the lessons game-oriented, and that seemed to suit the children just fine.

I was pleasantly surprised by how many children showed up and how willing and active they were to learn. The first child, a young Russian boy, came with his mother and showed up alone. Trying to introduce ourselves to him, he was petrified with fear and could not respond. I was worried this might be the norm among the students. However, as more students showed up (a total of about 15 came- our LCF said this was more than usual for the first day) everyone began to open up. By the end of lesson, the young boy that had first showed up was bursting with enthusiasm to participate and went before the class several times for English animal charades. I was pleased to find that, by its conclusion, it seems that a good portion of the information had at least somewhat sunk in. I definitely think future reviews of the information will be necessary to cement it, but it was definitely a positive first day. The students asked if they could have class again tomorrow, and while we certainly can’t make them a daily activity, we are discussing having them multiple times a week and for longer if the demand continues to exist.

After dinner, I went out to the field on the outskirts of the village to try and take pictures of the mountains (the views from within the village are pretty but intermittent). It was sunset and very pretty. Unfortunately, the pictures didn’t come out great, but I am sure I will have plenty of opportunities to get more pictures of mountains. Oh, I also had my permanent site interview on yesterday, and I will be finding out my permanent location in three weeks. Very exciting stuff.
(Top) Eening shot of a factory
(Bottom) View from my road

Images of Bishkek

(left top) The National Cultural Museum (right top) The Kyrgyz legislator, known as the "White House" (bottom right) Guards standing at the national monument


Smelly Cats?

10:00 27 July 2008

I had a conversation with my (US) family yesterday (it’s so weird having a cell phone call from the other side of the world!). Dad relayed to me Mr. Woodward’s comment on one of my previous entries. I had written that I was developing a routine and many of the things that initially had shocked and fascinated me about this country have become humdrum and ordinary. Therefore, I reasoned, they were not worth my time reporting about them or your time reading about them. However, Mr. Woodward replied with a very cogent point. As ordinary as these things become to me during my service now, in five or ten or twenty years looking back, I will probably value having a semi-complete log of my service, and that details that to me now seem boring may be fascinating to me later. So I will not completely abandon my day to day reporting, but will still try and keep my prose as fresh and interesting as possible. On that note, I had an entertaining experience yesterday, the main road to Bishkek, about the size of a large two lane road, was in a big traffic jam, the first I have seen in Kyrgyz Republic. Why? Because of a huge herd of cattle going home for the evening. It was hilarious. Having reported that, I wanted to try out my idea by writing about smell.

Olfactory Observations (part 1 of a five part sensory series)

Every place and every time has a unique scent. While I have not the super sensitivity of my mother’s proboscis, smells are some of the most powerful sensory experiences and I have often taken the note of them in my travels. I heard it reported that the sense of smell is the only sense that goes directly to the brain without being processed as a lower function… or some other medical and psychological explanation for its power. (I never realized how much I would miss instantaneous wikipedia/google by the way, it makes me sound so much smarter usually.)

Regardless, during my brief expedition into Istanbul, this was one of the first things I noticed. It was an unspecific smell, though one I must assume had to do with the combination of the delicious food, traffic, and environment. Istanbul just smelled different from home. It certainly wasn’t a bad smell, and the closer we ventured towards the restaurant district, the more appealing it became, but it was a completely different olfactory experience than any other city I have been in despite the fact that I was there less than six hours.

Kyrgyzstan has offered a similarly unique set of scents for my nose to experience. The altitude here is higher than at home, and I noticed this on the breeze at the hotel. You could also smell the oldness of the hotel. This was, after-all, a Soviet era hotel and the cement construction was not in the best of repair. This hotel is also first where I noticed the unmistakable hint of marijuana smoke on the air. While PCVs are forbidden to use it, and I would presume it is at least nominally illegal according to Kyrgyz law, weed does grow here like… well, a weed. And whether through its recreational use or simply its proximity to piles of burning trash, its unique scent is certainly a large part of the everyday smells in Kyrgyzstan.

In comparison with my host family house and village, Hotel Issyk-Kul was poverty stricken when it comes to its palate of smells. Each part of my house has new and exciting scents, and the village as a whole is fascinatingly varied. My nose here is never bored.

The first thing I noticed entering my village and house was the pervading smells of the country and rural life. Things are alive here. Cows, ducks, dogs, cats, chickens, rabbits, horses, and donkeys all have their individual additions to the overall bouquet, but I have found that it is the scents that come from plants that are the most pervading. Hay, corn, flour, chicken feed, grasses, trees, dirt, flowers, vegetables- these are the things which stand out most when I think about the smells of my house. Digging potatoes from the garden and smelling the fresh overturned earth, bailing hay and having its musk hang in the air for hours, bagging musty smelling chicken feed into dusty bags- all of these activities are strongly associated with their odors in my mind. Of course, the livestock have their active scents too. Poultry, I have learned, can be some of the most fowl (ugh) smelling creatures on earth. Cows don’t smell nearly as bad as I had anticipated, their dung is not nearly as offensive to smell as it is to look at. Pigs, on the other hand, despite being told that they are actually relatively clean animals, live up to their stereotype and reek.

Obviously, the smells at this house aren’t purely formed by its non-human residents. The smells of cooking vary day to day. Rarely a day goes by in which I do not eat onions and potatoes, so their scents generally remain in the kitchen. Similarly, the smell of fresh-baked bread is a welcome addition whenever I enter the part of the house where they keep the small electric oven. Sharing the space with the garage, the mixed odor of fresh cooked food in the kitchen and stale exhaust fumes has formed a completely new olfactory experience for me. Interestingly enough, despite the intensity and variety of smells, most of the habited rooms in the house have little to know scent, something that is welcome in my bedroom.

I reserved an entire paragraph for the outhouse, but I am sure by now you are tired of reading about my incessant scatological references so I will keep it brief. The smell of an outhouse is not what I had expected. An overpowering stench of ammonia, rather than what you might expect, is the overwhelming experience. Sometimes it is mild and almost seems as if someone had just come through and cleaned with Lysol, but sometimes it is so strong that it burns your nostrils. That is all I have to say about that.

The village I live in also has varied smells. These depend on both time and location. The customary way to dispose of trash, burning, has formed one of the scents I find most difficult to tolerate. The days are hot, and always dusty, and my own natural smells come forth most strongly during these hot periods which, combined with the dust, form a most interest scent. Rain is special. Much like at home, you can smell it on the air, but I feel it even stronger here, the water clears the dust from the air and leaves the village smelling entirely different and fresh in its wake. I love the rain.

This is by no means an all inclusive list of the incredibly varied olfactory experiences I have, but I do think it might give a little bit more depth to my previous and future hum-drum entries. Soon to come will be the other four parts of this self-imposed series.

Party Times!

08:00 25 July 2008

Wow! It is really raining out there right now! That is the first time it has rained hard since I have been in country. Last night it was drizzling on and off, but it is an actual downpour right now. That is fantastic. Almost all of Kyrgyzstan’s power comes from a hydroelectric damn on a lake, but historically low levels of precipitation this year have meant that we have had electricity for only a few hours a day. Consequently, out water has also been unreliable and only came back on yesterday after several days with none at all. People are worried about the electricity situation this winter, and have been stocking up on cow-dung patties to burn for heat in case the electricity is out for extended periods of time.

Last time I talked about developing a routine. Well, as soon as I did that, I got to experience something completely new and interesting. Malika, our language and cultural facilitator, had her birthday yesterday. Despite the fact that she is from the South of the country and a fairly observant Muslim, people brought alcohol to the party and all the males were expected to drink (just a little was okay though) and even toast. I was able to manage a poorly formed toast praising Malika as a teacher and telling her that her students loved her a lot. Following the feast, which was delicious and included the obligatory plov, delicious eggplant, dill, and tomato wraps, beet salad, and other local dishes, there was dancing. I am not a good dancer. Fortunately, in this culture, male’s are expected to do little more than sway side to side, extra bonuses come if it is actually to the rhythm. This expectation meant that my simple embellishments were greeted enthusiastically, it was a lot of fun. We eventually moved outside because it was too warm inside, and I must admit, never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought that I would have a dance party next to a pen of cows and a plot of corn in the middle of Kyrgyzstan. How wild.
(Top Left) My host Papa dances with Mama Leela, Malika's host Mother (bottom left) HCNs and Andrew, a PCV enjoy the feast (bottom right) Malika accepts many flowers

23 July 2008

Routinish

21:45 22 July 2008

Part of our PST includes biweekly sessions on cross-cultural connections. These sessions cover both Kyrgyzstan specific cultural items and overall adjustments that we will encounter in service. I realized today a few things from one. I’m finally starting to fall into a routine: wake up, wash face, eat, brush teeth, attend school, eat lunch, go to XYZ PC session, come home, rest, review language or do homework, rest, eat dinner, drink chai, and go to bed. However, our session today was about PST culture and how right now we are adjusting to a cultural climate that is substantially different from what our actual service will entail. This is true, while we live in very authentic Kyrgyz villages, we are interacting with other Americans on a daily basis, with host families that are aware of our culture and its differences, and in a kind of cultural bubble. It’s a stepping stone into the real world of Kyrgyzstan. This is, for some, a very necessary process, and for others, a frustrating experience when they want nothing more than to be thrown into the mix and left to fend for themselves. I have yet to tire of the idea of PST, but I am sure that, much life college orientation, by the end of it I will be tired and just want to go to (my) class.

As this temporary routine develops, I will also have less to write about other than the minor day to day variations and minutia that spell doom for online readership. To avoid this deadly prose, I’ve decided to focus on certain aspects of life in Kyrgyzstan. I feel like I have been giving you all an accurate but vastly incomplete portrait of what living here is like. I was talking with fellow trainees today and they felt the same way. We can paint pictures and upload photos, but these daily descriptive entries do little more than brush the surface. I won’t start tonight (it’s almost ten and I’m tired) but I think the first entries I wish to write about are a five part sights, smells, tastes, touch, and sounds of my experience in Kyrgyzstan. I’ve mentioned all of these senses in passing in different entries, but I feel a (somewhat) comprehensive analysis of any one of these senses could make for a more complete picture of my day, and give a better sense of what it is like to live here as a PCT. Anyhow, it’s about my bedtime and nighttime is descending. Sweet dreams and pleasant tomorrows.

Evening Times

21:45 21 July 2008

Evening is my favorite time of day in my village. Around five or six each day a lot of the cows that graze in a nearby field come home. It’s really interesting because they know exactly where to go, and turn right in to their respective homes; it is quite a sight to see a few dozen cows walking down the street and peeling off one or two at a time when they should. Evenings, and lower temperatures, also bring the residents out onto the street. Children all over the world laugh and play in the same language. Men and women gather outside on the street, eating and drinking and laughing. The village which, during the day, seems dry, dusty, and abandoned really springs to life.

While I witness this transformation everyday, it was particularly evident today as I was walking to a fellow trainees’ house to get my hair cut. I my house right after dinner, and it is about a 20 minute walk to the other side of the village, ample time for me to observe all sorts of interesting sites. After weaving my way through the mass of cows (I walk towards bulls, not run from them) I ran into a group of pubescent males. Occasionally these interactions can be awkward as this demographic often sizes up the American. Fortunately, this group was friendly and stopped to shake my hand and chat. After asking if I would drink vodka with them (which I of course declined), they said that my Russian was good which made me happy. I then proceeded to mosey on towards my destination, passed a group of children playing (accompanied by the host of accented “hellos” of course) and noticed how children here make do with what they can. Their choice of toy today was a liter soda bottle filled with water, tied to the end of a string and dragged around to great amusement. There was also a really cute Kyrgyz boy that was eating a tangerine and ran up to the edge of the street, I greeted him in Russian and he shyly replied. My language skills have come to the point where I was able to ask exactly which house I was going to, I knew where it was but wasn’t certain of the exact address, and arrived at my destination.

Shawn, the fellow trainee that cut my hair, did a really good job, and it was nice to have a conversation with her and her host sister who is excellent at English. I’m still really impressed by how good my hair looks! It will also be a lot cooler which will be nice. The walk home was similarly interesting, a group of adults sitting outside invited me over for chai and vodka, but being sensible again, I declined. A young boy on a bicycle passed me a few times, each time with a host of “hellos”. Funny kids.

In other news, I think my family has finally realized that I really just don’t like meat that much. I explained that for twelve years I was a vegetarian in the States, and they were incredulous to how big I was despite this. I replied with a joke that had I eaten meat in the States, I would have been about 3 meters tall, and I didn’t want to be that big. They still encourage me to eat all the time, but when they put out some kind of pig fat rolled up and I declined, they didn’t pursue the issue any further. Alright, I was tired when I woke up this morning so I should get to bed early tonight. Добре ноч.

Trials and Tribulations

22:55 20 July 2008

It’s odd how sometimes the most rewarding days can start with the most frustrating beginnings. I woke up today on a good note, I finally figured out a way to combat the allergies I had been experiencing in my room. I think there is something in the pillow and mattress that is causing me to have a really sore through and itchy upper palate (weird sensation). I’ve been doping up on Benadryl and got an allergy medicine but I had been waking up in the middle of the night because of it. So yesterday I slept on top of the covers, used Marisa’s blanket as a pillow and found that I didn’t wake up. Victory!

This small win was then overshadowed by a frustrating breakfast with some of the most intense Kooshaing (Eat! Eat!) I had experienced, almost to the point of an angry command. After breakfast, I wanted to do laundry, and I had done it before so I know how, and didn’t understand when my Mama told me to wait. After inquiring several times (to our mutual frustrations) I figured out it had to do something to do with waiting for hot water and the bathtub, but still didn’t understand why I couldn’t just wash my clothes in cold water. I never really resolved this.

Later, I received a text letting me know that a lot of PCTs were getting together in Kant to hang out at a café. Being Sunday (my day off, but also the day I find myself craving class for the interaction) I was eager to go and called the appropriate people for permission. After securing it, I let my host family know my intentions and was told to wait until after lunch, which would be served shortly. It was hot and I agreed, but waited impatiently for over an hour to help prepare a complicated meal, delaying my departure and making me late to my rendezvous.

When written down, these concerns look really quite petty. They are, in the big picture they are very minor details. However, for a PCV under a lot of stress, it is often these little added stresses (in addition to the enormous stresses of being in a completely alien country, language, and culture) that set us off. We were told to expect it, so I recognize when I get pissy and try and not to let it affect my overall outlook. Because of this, I was able to really enjoy myself once I got into Kant, and then returning home (after the much needed respite) I was calmer though tired. Talking to my parents and then even Ashley was also a really nice event. I had a really cool experience after talking with them as I brought the cow out with Max to the field to graze. I didn’t realize how gorgeous the field was, and so close to the house (I’ll put up pictures later). The mountains loom in the distance (it’s a much better view from the field than the village) and a crumbling Soviet factory lies in the distance. Very cool sites. In addition to the view and minding the cow, I had a surprisingly effective conversation with Max. I was happy with that, and we even traded cell-phone numbers.

After dinner (during which I brought up the fact that eating at my age and size is less encouraged, to a big laugh from my family), I brought out “One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish”. The daughter, Alyiona, can read English somewhat and speaks a little bit, but never wants to practice. I was happy that I was able to help her read, and then even translate parts of the book for her family. It was a good exercise, and one I felt was fruitful and indicative of the good influence TEFL volunteers can have even outside the classroom. It was a good ending to a day that started out frustratingly.

19 July 2008

Some photos

(left) The kitchen, eating area, and garage of my host family's house (down) my bedroom
(left) our kitten- so cute. (down) adorable child at host family matching ceremony and everyone was clapping.











Hub-report

20:30 18 July 2008

Hub Day was good, though the first group session, appropriately enough about Diarrhea, was held inside a building that was approximately 120 degrees. Ugh. Luckily, they learned their lesson and the next session was held outside. We also received our second round of shots (ouch, they still hurt today, especially the rabies and typhoid) and were informed that we will be taking malarial pills if we are in the South of the country. It was really nice to see all the other trainees from other villages, hear funny stories, hear horror stories, and realize how much we missed each other after knowing one another for six days and then being apart for a week. Intense situations breed quick and lasting friendships.

It’s very interesting being in a village were the chance that anybody can understand your English is a number close to zero. When chatting with other trainees and then speaking our broken Russian to the village residents I understand what it is like to be the outsider in America speaking an unintelligible language. I can only imagine what it would sound like in the reverse. Struggling by in a new and difficult language is interesting, and we must sound like complete imbeciles. “I no eat. I am not wanting to have a sick. Thank you for me eating, it tasty. Thank you, I no want. Thank you, I want no food more.” (This is something to how I can imagine us sounding- ridiculous, no?)

Today we had another cross-cultural training program and learned more about the educational system in Kyrgyzstan and how it differs from America. It is amazing the corruption that exists, and the way that they view cheating differently from America. Because of the way it is set up and the collectivist nature of Kyrgyz culture, it is normal to share answers, help each other, and cheat constantly. Similarly, it is common for students to beg and plead and even bribe teachers to have unfavorable grades changed. We discussed coping strategies for these kind of pressures and discussed why the climate exists in Kyrgyzstan. We aren’t here to change culture, but fostering academic integrity could be a major assistance to the countries educational system (though something fellow PCVs have evidently had extreme difficulties with).

Ya Bolio

21:50 15 July 2008

Today I became a lot more ill for a short period of time. After lunch, I returned to classes and began to feel less than well but not too poorly, but by the time dinner had rolled around, the heat and whatever I had ingested got to me and I felt awful. This led to emergency action on the part of Mama Luba, and I was instructed to lie down on the couch outside (it is slightly cooler than the oppressive 85 degree heat in my room – the windows do not open here). I took some of the medicines Peace Corps provided and after a two hour nap, I feel much better. Not so much that I can eat anything though, not that I haven’t been offered it. On the plus side, this condition has allowed me to refuse food, I had two cups of tea and a piece of bread for dinner and nobody questioned me.

Hopefully I will continue to feel better as tomorrow is our first Hub day, a day spent in the slightly large city of Kant (my village has two general stores- here called magazines, a café that is out of business, a community center, a school, and memorial to the “Patriotic War”- Soviet era lingo for the Second World War). So tomorrow I get to call my parents, send emails, get a cell phone, and enjoy some of the benefits of connectivity to the outside world that I have been missing the past week.

Another village of Trainees came to our village today for cross-cultural training and we found out that our group had its first ET- Peace Corps for Early Termination or Going Home. I was surprised it came so early, but I suspect there will be a number of people in the first few weeks that just realize that Peace Corps, squat toilets, intensive language training, and the flies everywhere are not for them. I have heard that Kyrgyzstan also has a higher drop out rate due to its harsh winters, though I imagine if I can endure it until then, cold weather has never been a problem for me.

Not quite wedding crashers...

07:50 14 July 2008

So yesterday I accidentally crashed a wake. We have Sundays off, and I was craving some American interaction (even as my language skills develop, I just can’t have the kind of conversations with Kyrgyz that I can with Americans). I went over to Laura’s house and asked if she wanted to go visit Alex, the other volunteer in our village (the other two were visiting their spouses in Krasne Ryechka – Red River village). After having the obligatory tea at their place (aka a full meal), we departed towards Alex’s house and took the 15 minute walk through the village. As Americans, I am used to being stared at by now, but what is odd is the way they greet. A lot of the times I will get a “Hello!” (the one word of English they know other than Los Angeles and 50 Cent) after I’ve passed them 30 meters behind. I usually find the best diffusion strategy to be, if they stare, greet them in Russian before they have an opportunity to yell at your back. That usually breaks the tension and prevents them from being hostile.

But onto the wake, we arrived at Alex’s house in the evening some time only to find a huge table with about twenty guests around it. My first (American) instinct was, oh dear, I’ve intruded on something I shouldn’t have and should leave. Oh course, to them, it was more guests and we were promptly seated and fed well. The wake was for a distant relative that lived in Russia so the mood was not somber at all and they laughed and joked with us. It ended up being fine, we had a nice conversation with Alex, and our LCF Malika was there. It was also the first meal I had taken in a Muslim household, so I got to experience the Omin. The Omin is a gesture done at the end of the meal that involves everyone at once placing their hands before there face and then sweeping them down and together to the Christian/Catholic looking prayer posture. It’s a very interesting cultural phenomenon and I really like it a lot. I didn’t set out to be like Will Ferrel and crash a Funeral, but it turned out to be a pretty good time.

Jon... useful?

10:45 13 July 2008

Last night and today I felt helpful. Papa and Max went out to the field (poliye) to cut hay for the cows and came back with a huge load in an old Soviet military truck. The task was simple but a bit strenuous, unload the countless bays of hay fro the truck and stack them by the house. It was kind of fun to work, and I was glad that I was finally allowed to help out around the house. I believe I am slowly transforming from guest to family (though the incessant cries of “Eat! Eat! You don’t eat enough!” haven’t yet abated). This morning after breakfast, they moved the bales of hay to the roofed enclosure to be stored and I also helped with this. Now I am sweaty and gross and don’t know when I will get to shower next. Also, I think I may be allergic to hay, I have a mild rash on my arms and legs, but it’s not serious enough to warrant any medical attention.

I forgot to write about it earlier, but I had a really cool experience earlier. Max is a music student that plays accordion. By the way, I am desperately trying to get my hands on a guitar, I don’t know the next time I will be able to get into Bishkek will be though. As a fellow musician, I was really glad to hear him play live music and asked if he read music (the universal language). After he said he did, I fetched my Beatles book, I had him play Hey Jude (he definitely wasn’t familiar with the song, and I don’t think he had heard of them before – shocking). Nevertheless, his rendition was passable and I played the song for him on my iPod. Yay for cross cultural exchange.

This entry is really poopy (tee hee hee!)

17:15 12 July 2008

Tomorrow is my first day off. The way my training and the school system here works is half lessons on Saturdays and off Sundays. So our four hours was only two and a half. As difficult as I thought it would be to practice and learn a language in a classroom for so long and often, I really like it. Malika, our teacher, is fantastic and I almost wish we spent more time in class. Unlike some language classes I have taken, these fly by, are fun, and are incredibly effective.

SCATOLOGICAL WARNING: This section contains numerous references to poop, diarrhea, bowel movements, and include profanity. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

As I said before, I have been told by current Volunteers that I will shit my pants. While this has not happened (thankfully), I do have what I will kindly refer to as environmentally readjusting bowel movements… This isn’t really a problem since our outhouse is nice, but the fact that I’m going 3-5 times a day is annoying and makes me feel gross. I’ve actually nearly grown accustomed to the ammonia and crap stench of an outhouse. I appreciate the mornings before it has grown hot and caused the contents to really get cooking (yuck.) and I’ve almost come to the point where I don’t mind using Soviet-era books for toilet paper (My host family doesn’t do this, but some do - the toilet paper here is basically party streamers except thicker, it’s incredibly rough. No such thing as Charmin Ultra here…). Luckily I haven’t had to use the outhouse at night. Most families let their dogs loose at night (dogs here are for protection, not pets, and the way they are tied up during the day is sad to me) and it makes it difficult to use the outhouse. Luckily I’ve started an oral re-hydration regimen that should make me regular again soon.
A lot of Volunteers have told me that whenever they talk to people at home, they say that they don’t talk about anything other than their BMs. I understand why, most Americans are used to relatively nice bathrooms (even the best outhouses here resemble the worst gas-stations in cleanliness and smell) and water and food to which they are accustomed. Once you have lived (and I stress lived over visited, even having lived here only a week, these are somewhat permanent conditions) in a country where you are a complete alien, you get excited about universal things. One of these things is taking a dump. Everyone in the world does it (except for women)

END OF SCATOLOGY SECTION

Things that have happened recently:

-Three of my classmates and I were walking around Dmitriyevka to get a feel of the layout of the community and a very drunk man (I had seen him before in a similar state) approached us. The natural and correct thing to do would have been ignore him and keep on walking. One of our compatriots, however, decided it would be more interesting to sit and chat with this belligerent man. Her rationale? She didn’t understand his drunken Russian

-Sitting outside of our compound on the bench, a stray lamb wanders up bleating. Solution? Have me shoo it away with a broom.

-Sitting outside of our compound on the bench, the drunken man wanders up babbling. Solution? Mama Lubov shoos him away with a broom

-Mama Luba exhibited her sense of humor. Three of the students from my group were over and she insisted we sit for tea and some food (correction- lots of food). As not to worry the other Mamas, Mama Lubov called them up and let them know we were there. She decided to have a bit of fun by telling them that we were all in Bishkek (an hour away) and hear their reactions. Some humor can cross the language barrier evidently.

-My family slaughtered a pig in order to have a special meal for me. Mama was talking about this a few days ago, and at first I didn’t understand, she kept saying words I didn’t know, and the motion she used looked like shaving to me. After I finally understood, I was a big combination of nervous and curious. Nervous because I didn’t know if I would be expected to help or if I could take it and curious because I really have never seen an animal slaughtered before. I didn’t get to actually watch the slaughter, I was at class when it occured, but I did see Papa gutting the pig, it’s quite a gory site but was interesting nevertheless. Tomorrow we are having pork shashlik, a popular national dish, and Chris, a former Trainee guest they hosted, will be there. I met him today and he seems like a nice guys so it will be nice to have another American at the table with whom to talk.

Words, words, words! I'm so sick of words!

23:30 11 July 2008

Peace Corps Corporate Headquarters told me to expect a lot of ups and downs with my service. Volunteers in Kyrgyzstan have told me to expect to poop my pants. Well, PCHQ was certainly right and more on the other topic later. Over the past two days and even the past few hours I have had some pretty big swings. First the positive:

Language classes are great. I’ve never learned in such a small group so intensely, and the results are clearly paying off. We have class from 8:30-14:00, a total of four theoretical hours of class time, but with extended chai (tea) breaks and the Kyrgyz slow pace of life, it really only adds up to about three and a half hours or so. But as I said before, the results are already astounding. I already had about 20 hours logged in Rosetta Stone that gave me a general introduction to the sound, alphabet, and feel of the language along with a solid base of a few key words. The improvement over the past two days has been fantastic. I have gone from being able to label things (as I did incessantly as a kid) to label more things, construct and understand basic questions and answers, greet and exchange formalities, count, say and read the alphabet at a rate fast approaching fluidity, and my vocabulary has expanded greatly to about 200-250 words (slovda). Wonderful.

However, while great my language classes are going, I am constantly reminded by my surroundings that I do not know this language or this land. My increase in skill has also increased the knowledge of how far I have to go to get passable. Scary. This has led to some frustrating language situations. There were a lot of times when I felt stupid and isolated because my family couldn’t communicate something with me (it took about 10 minutes for them to ask how much my plane ticket to Bishkek cost, and after finally understanding, I had to admit I did not know.

I introduced Chalida (soft ch like the ich in German) and Jalil, the Turkish neighbors that live across the way with fellow Trainee Laura (Lau-u-ra) to a Frisbee and they loved it. That was yesterday afternoon, and today Jalil wanted to play again but had to spend a good five minutes trying to explain to me Frisbee in Russian before I understood what he meant. Eventually I figured it out and we did end up playing. These kids really are incredibly cute, and the fact that they are a first time host family seems to make them really excited to have Americans around, they are always pointing and telling me the Russian words for things.

Despite my language struggles with Jalil and my host family, Mama Lubov and her daughter Aliyoona were quizzing me and helping me out. Aliyoona knows a bit of English, so that helps when I study with her and I encourage her to practice English (though she much prefers correcting me when I am wrong or mispronounce something than the other way around). Don’t we all. I have more to write, but I am tired and I want to sleep since this is by far the latest I have been able to stay up yet. Yay adjustment!

First Impressions

04:50 11 July 2008

My entire childhood when it comes to roosters was a lie. I was, as I assume most American children were, taught that roosters gave their signature “cock-a-doodle-doo” at the crack of dawn, once a day. At least with Kyrgyz roosters, this is sooooo not the case (a rooster just crowed as I was writing this). The chicken coop is about two meters outside of my window and I have found that while roosters do crow at the ass-crack of dawn, they also crow whenever they damn please. This means they crow in the afternoon, while we are eating dinner, when I am getting ready for bed, past midnight. Yes, they crow all the time. And yes, it can get annoying. But so far, my largest annoyance with this country has been loud poultry. Not bad.

I slept pretty well last night after writing the previous entry and got to bed around eleven. I was woken up by… you guessed it, Mr. Cock-A-Doodle-Doo a few times during the night and I think after six and a half decent hours of sleep I’ll be fine for the day. Our first day of host family PST is going to be intense. I think we have four hours of language lessons in the morning, come home for lunch, and then have four more hours in the afternoon. Normally the post-lunch time would be technical, cultural, or other information training sessions but the first day or so is incredibly intensive Russian training. Hopefully after today, I will be able to communicate a little better with my family.

Some things I forgot to mention about yesterday: The way my host family addresses me is adorable. In Russian, the closest to Jonathan there is is “Dshonaton” which is all well and good, close to the Hebrew “Yonaton”. However, my host-family has taken it upon them to shorten it, much as many Americans will, to “Dshon”, so I will here them calling me with a really cute “Dhoooon! Dshon!”. Through playing ball, most of the children have my name down as “Dshonaton” and Laura’s as “La-ow-rra” which is also really cute as they elongate the name. I also forgot to mention that I brought a photo-album; it was a superb idea. Mama and Papa were very interested to look through it and so were family friends. The funniest thing to come out of it was when we turned to a High School picture of my family when I had long hair. She kept asking “Eta voi Sistra? Eta voi Mama?” (Is that your sister, your mother?) to which I replied several times “Niet, Eta Ya!” (no, it’s me). This continued until she realized it was indeed, me, and burst out laughing and saying things about hair and how in Kyrgyzstan if a boy were to have such long hair, he would look like a girl. I assured her that it was different in America and she seemed to accept this, though still exhibited much joy in sharing the story of this crazy American’s hair with her friend. I am glad my high school hair style proved so entertaining.

07:30 10 July 2008

Another thing I forgot: Kyrgyz older women are notorious for taking home leftovers. I’ve heard stories of ayjays (the Kyrgyz word of respect for an older woman) loading up thin plastic bags emphatically to a huge comic effect but I was unsure of how true these stories were; that was until the reception at the host family matching ceremony. As we were getting ready to leave, my host mother began taking napkins and scooping up various foods. For some reason, I offered my bag as a receptacle to hold these left-over foods. While the candy she dumped into the pocket was fine, I was a little worried about the not-well-wrapped cookies she placed next to my laptop. Sure enough, as I got home and opened my bag to return the goodies, they had crumbled all over inside my bag. No harm was done and we all had a good laugh, but it was really a prime example of cultural differences. Sure enough, along with delicious fresh milk (still warm from the cow’s udders), sausage, bread, and a Nutella-like substance (I got really excited about it but they didn’t understand), my host mother served a lot of crumbly cookies today. Kyrgyzstan, I think I love you.

Village-life

19:30 9 July 2008

As I noted earlier last update, I went into Bishkek and for the first time ventured outside of the walls of Hotel Issyk-Kul. Well, with the Host-Family matching ceremony, I truly left any semblance of living in America. Hotel Issyk-Kul was not posh by any American standards, but it did have indoor showers and toilets, hot water heaters, and no livestock running around. The same can not be said of my PST host family. There is nothing wrong with this as it really is the norm among the Kyrgyz, but it is quite the culture shock to walk by a lowing cow to take a shower outside in a stall that borders the cow’s pen. The host-family matching ceremony was a quite touching ceremony as the Kyrgyz hosts looked onto the body of Peace Corps Trainees and the Trainees looked eagerly back until they were matched. There was also an adorable little Kyrgyz girl dancing and everyone clapped. My family is an ethnic Russian family that lives in a small outskirt of Kant. They are very friendly and despite the massive language barrier (my Russian vocabulary is probably under 100 words) I feel we actually had a fair amount of communication, even if it often disintegrated into my nodding at a question I didn’t understand (they won’t accept my limitations and will re-ask the question in various ways until I give some semblance of an answer). Mama Lubov, Papa, and their twenty year old grand-daughter Alyoona came to pick me up at the matching ceremony where I gave them flowers (Tsivite) that I had bought in Bishkek that afternoon. After we came home, I met their son Maxime, he was helpful and friendly.

Probably the highlight of the day, and my Peace Corps Training so far, was the activity that followed settling into my room. The way PC trains is something called CBT, or Community Based Training, and I am living in a village with 4 other people within walking distance with a LCF (Language and Culture Facilitator) that acts as our tutor for the three months of PST. One of my fellow village residents is a friendly woman named Laura. She was out in the road with some village children playing the epitome of games – throw the ball. I joined in with these adorable children, and introduced myself. Eventually other village children became intrigued with these American young adults playing ball (myatch) with Kyrgyz village children and joined in. I turned it into a lesson by starting to yell the name of whomever I was throwing the ball to and encouraging them to do the same. Laura mentioned, and I concurred, that this was one of the first time that it was really setting in that, woah, we are in Kyrgyzstan in the middle of the road throwing a ball with local children, avoiding Soviet-era cars and livestock all around us. How wild for a middle class American.

Getting to know (kind of) my host family has been really fun, challenging, and interesting. I was shown where the outhouse was as soon as I arrived (I am really happy/excited because it has a Styrofoam seat and I don’t have to squat! I was told I would probably have to! Yay!) and also the outdoor solar shower. Taking a shower outside was a really nice experience, very refreshing and I made sure not to overuse the water. Kyrgyzstan is having some difficulties with water and electricity right now, so apparently there are rolling blackouts with make water unavailable for hours at a time.

The compound I am living at is basically a small farm. They have large gardens, lots of chickens and roosters (I am sure they will keep me up), ducks, a donkey, at least one cow, rabbits, dogs, pigs, and other livestock living around. My room is small but nicely furnished and will do just fine. Dinner was an interesting event, I was told to expect an enormous pressure to drink alcohol and eat and was prepared to be firm in my negations. Fortunately, while Mama Lubov encouraged me to eat the ploov she had prepared (a rice pilaf, this time it had chicken in it) whenever I let my fork stop moving for more than a millisecond (Kooshai! Kooshai!) she respected me when I said I was full and I had no problem refusing the second glass of beer. The dreaded vodka was not even offered. Maybe it will be a problem another day, but for now it is fine.

As Peace Corps Trainees/Volunteers, we have to remain object and realize the differences in culture and appreciate them. This means viewing things such as the treatment of animals (especially dogs), eating and drinking habits, and other behaviors with a culturally sensitive light. So far, this has been relatively unchallenging, but after giving the village children some candy after playing with them and watching them litter the wrappers, my heart couldn’t help but cry. I know the facilities for responsible disposal don’t exist here, but it was still a gut reaction to what to me is an unthinkable action and it did hurt me inside.


(up) Adorable Turkish children that live across the street- I have now introduced them to the joys of Frisbee.

09 July 2008

Amenities Shmamenities

Written 06:15 8 July 2008

I woke up earlier than I wanted today because of the roosters crowing and dogs barking outside my window. However, this had a very distinct advantage. I got a warm shower! It was wonderful! Yesterday I took one of the coldest showers of my life, despite it being about 95° outside, the water was something like snowmelt temperature (quite possibly it was snowmelt, there are snowcapped mountains visible from the balcony) and was very uncomfortable. While I don’t mind living without the usual amenities (more on this later), it really makes you appreciate a nice hot shower. This early morning fortuitous event led to a quite positive demeanor among me and my room mate and followed me deciding to have a hygiene day, complete with a beard trimming, shave, finger nail trip, flossing, and even a dash of cologne. Truly it is the first time I have felt clean since the fourth of July. I guess I’ll have to get used to the feeling though.

While it is nice, I must contest the popular adage “cleanliness is next to godliness”. Even just being in this country three days, I have heard a lot of stories and experienced first hand the type of living conditions for the next 27 months. Life will be Spartan. And yes, I will enjoy the hot showers, flossings, and hair washings of the next two years, living without constant creature comforts is far from my list of things that I will miss or things that I think make one a better person. Being clean does have a certain satisfaction to it; but we don’t need to be clean and smelling good to be healthy, effective, and having fun.
As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I will face a lot of challenges, and I will gladly do it smelling really, really bad.

Pre Service Training Orientation

Written 21:00 7 July 2008

Our first day of orientation for our Pre-Service Training (PST) is complete. Today we found out several things about our PST. First and most excitingly, I am learning Russian for post. I had requested that I be placed in a Russian area, but only a small minority of volunteers get to learn Russian so I was skeptical that my request would be filled. Yay! We had several seminars today about various topics, health and nutrition, safety and security, etc., and then had our first language lesson. We learn the language with the small group of people living in our PST village, about five people in each one. Our first lesson consisted of very basic “meet and greet vocabulary,” but it will prepare us to meet our host-families for the three month PST. Rosetta Stone definitely helped with this, just having heard the language more has made pronunciation easier and put me ahead


of some of the other trainees. I am sure that will last no more than three days though. We meet and move in with our host families on Wednesday and I will be living in a village on the outskirts of Kant. Also, I now have an address which you can send stuff to me, but I don’t want to put it online. If you want it, send me an email and I will try and get it to you as soon as I can. I can receive mail at that address until mid-September when I will move into my permanent post.

After our day and then dinner (some type of burgers, we’re not sure what kind of meat) we took a walk outside in the park behind the Hotel. It is very bizarre. Created in honor of Manas, the big mythic Kyrgyz figure, it has some really fascinating architecture. I’ll post photos as soon as I can get decent internet. Much like the hotel though, the project was in relative disrepair with broken concrete and rebar. Nevertheless, it offered some of the most stunning views of Bishkek yet and it was really gorgeous. After chatting with other Trainees and some current PCVs, we descended the tower and walked around enjoying the pleasant evening air. We were all pretty tired, though I am remarkably un-jetlagged (I have no idea how this is possible, I am 10 hours ahead of EST) and headed to bed.


Hotel Issyk-Kul











Manas Park

Abstract Yurt Statue (Yurts are traditional Kyrgyz homes)





Manas Park at sunset

Hotel Issyk-Kul from the tower in Manas Park

Back to Biskek

Written 11:00 7 July 2008

We got into Bishkek last night around 2 in the morning, deplaned, went through customs and got all of our bags (no one lost anything!). Unfortunately, I should have taken my parents’ recommendation and offer of a new roller bag as the handle snapped off my old one. I can apparently buy a new bag here, it will just be a hassle in the meanwhile. After a short bus ride, we arrived at our Hotel for the next three days, Hotel Issyk-Kül (named after a famous lake in Kyrgyzstan) The Hotel is a stunning representation of 1970s Soviet architecture, complete with a crumbling façade and concrete block construction. We had a quick debriefing and were allowed to pick room mates for our stay. I’m living with Alex, the person who so far I have gotten to know best and we have gotten along quite well. After unpacking slightly (him realizing his toothpaste exploded all over his bag and me realizing one of my bottles of cologne had leaked – luckily it was in a plastic bag so nothing was ruined, we admired the cool dry air and went to bed. The beds aren’t fancy, consisting of a foam pad and a block of wood, but were reasonably comfortable and I got a decent night’s sleep.

06 July 2008

Istanbul, Not Constantinople

Written earlier when I had no internet access at 14:00 5 July 2008

I’m sitting in JFK Airport. We left the hotel this morning and took the two hour bus ride through Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and finally Manhattan and Queens to the airport. Security was easy, but I found out later my bag was only checked to Istanbul, I will have to get it in Turkey and recheck it to Bishkek. Hopefully, I will still get a chance to explore the city, I am planning to get out of the airport and look around, maybe get a Donner Kabob if I can. For now, I will sit waiting for my flight and goof around on the computer, annoyingly enough the free wifi won’t connect. Oh well, Turkey bound I am!

Present Time:

Turkey was really cool! While it was a pain in the buttocks to have to get a visa in order to recheck our bags (a $20 fee), it was well worth the price to go out and explore beautiful Turkey/the outskirts of Istanbul. Getting our bags checked was an epic event which seemed relatively leaderless until I took charge and made it happen. Hooah I suppose. After we were squared with our baggage, we figured going around the city was a great idea. I asked a Turkish man where he recommended we go to lunch close by but out of the airport, and in broken English, he told me a relatively simple route on the metro and wrote "go [sic]tree stops on the Metro and then go across bridge the other ways. While I was skeptical how helpful this would be, I was pleasantly surprised both at the friendliness and helpfulness of the Metro attendant and the accuracy of his instructions. Following his advise, we got to a little street complete with a pretty mosque, lots of Turkish people (very few other tourists), and great food eateries. We stopped in one and each had a lot of delicious Turkish Kabobs, cacik sauce, naan, and other Euro-Mediterranean foods.

After eating, we strolled around the street for a while, admiring the quaint cityscape and listening finally to the azan's call to prayer from the mosque before we left. Overall, it was a very enjoyable sojourn and a great way to escape from the airport for a few minutes and add a new country to my list of those visited (it wouldn't count if I had stayed in the airport). I am, however, exhausted. The flight was expectantly long and I didn't sleep nearly as much as I hoped to (and when I did, I dreamed fitfully about Peace Corps). The end result is that unning on very few hours of sleep + Bishkek being 10 or 11 hours ahead (it depends on DST) + flying for 10 hours+ not comfortable = severe jet lag soon. Regardless, we are almost there and then we start our training eight hours after arrival. We will be staying in Hotel Issyk Kul- complete with 1970s Soviet architecture - in Bishkek for three (tree) days and then will leave for our host families in the Kant area. It will probably be a week or so until I can get contact with internet after we get into Bishkek, but so far, so good!

05 July 2008

Bridge to Pre Service Training

Today, or if you want to get technical, yesterday, we finished our Staging Event in Philadelphia. This event was a very odd/interesting/helpful/boring mix of sessions aimed at letting us know the Peace Corps organization. It seemed at time a mix of a professional business seminar and a children's summer camp. For example, we alternated between sessions dealing with serious risks to Peace Corps Volunteers like rape, assault, evacuations, etc. to creating and singing a song about service accompanied by the percussion instrument of hitting pens against pitched glasses of water to the tune of "Mary Had a Little Lamb". So it definitely didn't completely make me feel like an adult, but it also made sure to let us know we weren't children any more and our service entails real challenges, risks, frustrations, and hopefully goals, rewards, and aspirations.

As I wrote earlier, I came up to PA to visit my grandparents for my last night with my family (sans my wonderful sister Rachel who is at music camp in Sewanee, TN). Seeing them was wonderful, and I really had a nice time playing cards, eating too much food, and spending time with my extended family at their apartment. But the next day we drove into the City and dropped me off at the Sheraton for me to register as a Trainee and then start my Staging Event.

Like I said, Staging was a very multifaceted event which overall was very interesting and helpful, but much like College orientation, became tedious at points. We learned about how to cope with the various stresses and challenges of being an American in an area which has never seen one before. PCVs are given a tremendous amount of responsibility, and their role puts them in a position as a "citizen ambassador". What we say and do has a direct reflection on what the people and the country we are serving think and feel about the United States. I am honored and excited about this inevitability. That's what really makes teaching English as a PCV different from other programs. Rather than entering the culture as a complete outsider designated only as a spreader of American knowledge, PCVs understand and embody the idea that we (as Americans) have as much to learn from the people we serve as they have to learn from us. Check out the three missions of Peace Corps Service, they are one of the main reasons I am so excited to be part of it.

The other exciting aspect of Staging is the additional information about my service that I have been anxious to find out. My class of Volunteers I no (group K-16) going to Kyrgyzstan is a very diverse group that includes members from all over the states (including Alaska and Hawaii), three married couples, and, of course, a plethora of recent college graduates. Getting to know my fellow volunteers has been really exciting and rewarding. I think I will get along with them really well and look forward to working with them. I also now have my address for the first three months of my training, if you want it please email me or leave a comment letting me know and I will try and send it to you as soon as I can. Also, en route to Bishkek (capitol city of Kyrgyz Republic) we have an 8 hour layover in Istanbul. I just found out that we will indeed, for the visa fee of $20, have the opportunity to explore the city for a few hours! I am really excited at the prospect of seeing the city and eating delicious food!

For my last Fourth of July until 2011, I went into Central Philadelphia with a few other Volunteers and saw the events they were holding. I was impressed by a John Legend performance (his cover of "She's So Heavy" really won me over) and the fireworks, despite the rain and the subsequent obstructing smoke cloud, were an enjoyable end for the last night in the States.

Anyhow, I have to be up in 5 and a half hours, so I best be saying Dosvedonya, good night, and next time you hear from me, I will be an ex-pat.

03 July 2008

Staging for Staging

Staging commences tomorrow at 1 p.m. (today if you want to get specific). I'm currently outside of Philadelphia (where the staging will be held) at my grandparent's retirement community. The monitors on these computers are HUGE- understandably for those of advanced age, but it is still weird to have my web pages displayed on what amounts to a small Jumbotron.

So the fact that I am in PA and ready for Staging means several things. 1) I have completed the epic task of packing my life into two checked bags under 50 lbs. 2) I have said all of my physical goodbyes (sans parents and Grandparents)and 3) I have two days until I leave the country for over two years. All of these things are various levels of stress inducing, but it won't be long until the stress I am experiencing will be of a completely different kind.

Packing... Oh packing. I've always considered myself a relatively thrifty and light packer for trips. Peace Corps Service, however, is not a trip. It's a period of my life, and there will be a lot of things I am not used to. So I had to do a lot of shopping, and more shopping, and even more shopping (I hate shopping) for things I need. This led to a lot of stress. But it also led to two overstuffed bags bursting at the seams ounces under the 50 lbs. limit. I hope. I really hope my scale was accurate. Packing has been stressful, but PC has told me that in country, creature comforts will be the least of my concerns. I am not sure if I should be reassured by this.

Goodbyes varied in their difficulty. This will be the first time I will not go to school with David L. in twelve years. We had our last romp (fittingly with a game of Settlers of Cataan) last night and I said my farewells to him, Diane, and Jon C. Despite my closeness with David, we have gone long times without seeing each other and I know that my relationship with him will be able to pick up where we left off when I return. More difficult were saying goodbye to Jesse, Marisa, and Ashley, my sometimes constant (yes, a paradox) companions. Some tears were shed, hugs couldn't quite convey the amount I will miss them, and it's bizarre to think of the distance that will separate us. However, I still fundamentally believe that I will see these people when I return and that our relationships will survive the trials of time and distance. Honestly, what proved most difficult was saying goodbye to Monty, my dog. If you don't know him, he's a medical mess (semi-crippled, eaten multiple poison mushrooms, asthma, now he has a cardiologist) and getting old at the age of eleven. So I don't rightly know whether I will ever see him again. I went inside just before we left the house and picked him up to say what might have been my final goodbye. What I didn't anticipate were the first real tears of departure (my eyes had only leaked slightly before). As I hugged him, he understood (as animals do) that something was afoot and stopped his normal panting and dogness to turn to me. I really will miss that pooch.

It's now nearly 1 a.m. and while I am sure the nerves and excitement of Staging in the morning will keep me up, I should wrap this up. Next time I report, I will be out of country (probably, unless staging is REALLY interesting). Wish me luck and safe flights.