23. July, 2004
I stepped outside this morning to a cool breeze through the laden apple trees,
and had a moment of gratitude to have this experience. I am passing the time by
teaching a few hours of typing lessons at school. We have one functional computer
and lots of twenty-year-old non-functional computer keyboards, so the students take
turns at the computer and the rest of the time they just practice the finger
positions on the old keyboards. Half the time we don't have electricity anyway, so
it's a lot of practice. Four of my favorite boys have learned the whole Russian
alphabet. We are all very proud. Today I'm starting a new group. It's not a huge
summer project, but it is a tangible skill that could some day help keep them from
a life of fieldwork. In any case it gives them a break from their work now, and a
chance to see their friends. It gives me a reason to justify my existence here!
I'm starting a new group today.
Other than the computer class, I'm passing the time by doing lots of yoga, and
running and doing lots of exercises with a handful of tiny bedraggled neighbor girls,
who are enormously entertained by my exercises. They actually spend more time
giggling and pointing than actually participating in the calisthenics. I'm also
studying my Russian, visiting my counterpart and my Russian teacher, and taking time
to cook good food. Last night I made bean cutlets. I have good intentions to
pick up my flute every day. I visit Megan or go to the reservoir a half-hour away
in Kierovka. The reservoir is a prime swimming/beach location, with only sheep and
the occasional shepherd to bother you. I'm trying and mostly succeeding to see all
this free time as a last opportunity for such a worry-free existence. I know that
my life at home was never like this, and it will never be this way again.
Here is a bit about Uzbekistan that I sent to my parents-
It was one of the best vacations I've ever had. I went with Karen, a volunteer from
another oblast. She was an excellent travel companion. We were in Tashkent
(June 11-14), Samarkand (14-16), Bukhara (17-19), and Khiva(19-21). We traveled by
marshrutka, train, taxi (through the desert to Khiva), and flew back from Khiva to
Tashkent with Uzbek airways. First I should tell you how impressive the architecture
was. We saw many of the sites- gorgeous blue and green tiled mosques, minarets and
madressahs. It inspired me to want to learn more about the history of this area- to
try to reconcile a cultural/historical context that could create these awe-inspiring
sights, with my personal, less inspiring experiences in central Asia. The trip
provided a lot of food for thought: these cities were part of the silk road
before the 10th century (?), then several centuries of warring tribes, violence
and slavery, yet amazing art, colonization to different degrees by Russia, then a
complete reconstruction of national identity under the USSR, and now independence
and democracy.
The aspect I enjoyed most was meeting other travelers. This was probably so fun
because they were mostly Europeans, not American college student types, which I had
kind of expected. We met people who were traveling for all lengths of time, from
three weeks to a year or more. We didn't meet people who were particular specialists
in Central Asian history. I was surprised that many of the long-term travelers
didn't know very much Russian at all. How do they get by? I think people who join
the Peace Corps do so at least in part because they are indecisive, looking for some
indefinable experience that will provide a lifetime of perspective and memories; I
think people who do these six month trips through Central Asia are looking for
something, too. There was a German/British couple who does one big non-European
trip every year; some Swiss boys (one very hot Swiss boy, but very jaded) finishing
up a study program in Moscow, a man from Holland visiting Uzbekistan just to go to a
museum filled with Soviet Art in Nukus, another British guy on a two-person tour,
and another Swiss man on a long tour through Central Asia- he had even been to Talas!
When trading travel itineraries, it was gratifying to be able to one-up everyone and
say, "Actually, we've living in Central Asia for a year and a half." I'll never
again be in a crowd where I can achieve such an aura of mystique.
I really need to use this capital to my advantage while I have it, somehow. I
felt that my living experiences and their travel experiences couldn't be more
different. Uzbekistan was vacation for me and for them; I didn't stay there long
enough to have to deal with the challenges, trials, and boredom of living there,
and neither did they.
Uzbek people seemed to have more of a sense of dignity and national pride than
Kyrgyz people. More people could speak English with us. They were also more
willing to try to rip off tourists, probably because Uzbekistan is almost as
poor as Kyrgyzstan but has an actual tourist industry. The differences between
Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan seemed great, until we met a large group of Uzbek
volunteers. From talking to them I learned that their experiences are very similar
to mine, in terms of cultural frustrations.
One of my favorite activities is planning my post-service trip home. I hope to
travel for two weeks, and then be home a week or so before Christmas. Megan and I
have narrowed down the list to just 30 destinations. When else will I have 6
thousand dollars in my pocket and have no responsibilities?
Ireland is on the list, in conjunction with a trip to Iceland. We'll see.
13. July, 2004
Yesterday I invited Sharon and Joe for lunch. They are the retired couple currently serving as Peace Corps Volunteers in the town of Talas. Megan came the night before to help with the preparation... After taking them on a tour around my village we served sundaes with jam and chocolate (courtesy of S.) made from the pre-made ice cream cones they sell in my store. These were only slightly melted, considering that the electricity had been out all day. Megan says that we should write a cookbook called "Martha Stewart Goes to Kyrgyzstan." Tee hee.
Tomorrow I'm going to pick apricots with Rosa, her family, and another neighbor and her family. We're going to drive there with a horse and cart. The weather has been cold and rainy for the past three days. I love the change... I am enjoying my daily clubs at school. I currently have a handful of good typists. Essengul's daughter, Gulida, has started coming. She's a lovely, lovely young woman. she's the one who's studying Japanese and also speaks fluent English. I wish you could meet her.
I'm making progress with my Russian. Every evening I'm watching a very popular Brazilian soap opera about a Moroccan/Brazilian family; I'm able to understand bits.
Did I tell you that I also helped Rosa's family weed their bean fields one evening? I wasn't a good weeder; I figure I was just there for morale. It was lovely to chat with Rosa about things. I discovered that her husband Kalik is terrified of snakes. There was one in the field and he wouldn't go near it. Rosa said she's also the one to do the mouse-killing in the house...
The "excursion" was great. My student Zamir drove the cart/rode the horse... The Kyrgyz technique for apricot picking is sending one of the boys up the tree to shake it like made. After the hailstorm of apricots has finished falling on our heads, we pick them off the ground. We picked two enormous boxes full. They will make jam with them. They only use jam to sweeten tea here. Rosa will give me some.
We took pictures including one of me looking scared on the horse. Then I amused everyone by falling into the irrigation creek. I thought I could step in it instead of hopping over it, and then help Gulikar's granddaughter across, but it turned out to be waist deep. Whoops! The two women wanted me then and there to take off my pants to wring them out so I wouldn't die of cold. It turned out to be good that I didn't take them off, because I slipped in another stream and coated my soggy self in mud. The I did take off my pants and rinsed them in the streeam. I'm so glad to uphold such highstandards of decorum and grace in front of my students. That's OK; I'm glad to be providing entertainment for the coming years of retelling this story!
Yesterday I invited Sharon and Joe for lunch. They are the retired couple currently serving as Peace Corps Volunteers in the town of Talas. Megan came the night before to help with the preparation... After taking them on a tour around my village we served sundaes with jam and chocolate (courtesy of S.) made from the pre-made ice cream cones they sell in my store. These were only slightly melted, considering that the electricity had been out all day. Megan says that we should write a cookbook called "Martha Stewart Goes to Kyrgyzstan." Tee hee.
Tomorrow I'm going to pick apricots with Rosa, her family, and another neighbor and her family. We're going to drive there with a horse and cart. The weather has been cold and rainy for the past three days. I love the change... I am enjoying my daily clubs at school. I currently have a handful of good typists. Essengul's daughter, Gulida, has started coming. She's a lovely, lovely young woman. she's the one who's studying Japanese and also speaks fluent English. I wish you could meet her.
I'm making progress with my Russian. Every evening I'm watching a very popular Brazilian soap opera about a Moroccan/Brazilian family; I'm able to understand bits.
Did I tell you that I also helped Rosa's family weed their bean fields one evening? I wasn't a good weeder; I figure I was just there for morale. It was lovely to chat with Rosa about things. I discovered that her husband Kalik is terrified of snakes. There was one in the field and he wouldn't go near it. Rosa said she's also the one to do the mouse-killing in the house...
The "excursion" was great. My student Zamir drove the cart/rode the horse... The Kyrgyz technique for apricot picking is sending one of the boys up the tree to shake it like made. After the hailstorm of apricots has finished falling on our heads, we pick them off the ground. We picked two enormous boxes full. They will make jam with them. They only use jam to sweeten tea here. Rosa will give me some.
We took pictures including one of me looking scared on the horse. Then I amused everyone by falling into the irrigation creek. I thought I could step in it instead of hopping over it, and then help Gulikar's granddaughter across, but it turned out to be waist deep. Whoops! The two women wanted me then and there to take off my pants to wring them out so I wouldn't die of cold. It turned out to be good that I didn't take them off, because I slipped in another stream and coated my soggy self in mud. The I did take off my pants and rinsed them in the streeam. I'm so glad to uphold such highstandards of decorum and grace in front of my students. That's OK; I'm glad to be providing entertainment for the coming years of retelling this story!
