Dear Mom, Oct 16
Hey-ho, here I am in the RC again. I'm snacking on a Snickers which our
'I've-got-no-time- for-lunch lunch'; maybe if we write to Snickers, they
will sponsor us for our two years. We just had Kazbek, from the PC office,
here for a two day visit. He was working with a PCV up north about a
year ago and was offered a job with the PC as a receptionist/interpreter. He
was also the assistant Economic development trainer during our training and has
since then been promoted to assistant director of the Econ Devo PC program - a
nice step up. The office sends out people into the field to check up on us and
talk to everybody and their counterparts, principals, etc. I was pleased it was
Kazbek as compared to someone from the TEFL program as he is a friend of ours
and much more approachable than some of the office stiffs. Of course on the
first night here, he dumped a big, oily, juicy plate of salad on Timur's lap at
the Kizabek cafe.
Oh yeah, the big news. Well, I don't know how to say this, but now there are
three Baileys in Kazakstan. Joan forgot to take her cat-control pill one
morning last week, and now we are with cat. Her name is 'Goo-bee' which means
'lips' in Russian - it's a long running joke from training. She is a three
month old frisky ball of energy who looks a little like Fitz - sort of black and
grey tiger stripes. She is also a real chatty cat who likes to talk to you as
she leaps around the house. We got her Monday and now have a had time leaving
the house. Last night we let her sleep with us under the mosquito netting (we
couldn't resist her), and everything was fine. She slept in the crook of my arm
and was not a hassle, although in the morning she got a bit rambunctious and
wanted to play 'monster under the blanket' (quiet, all you perverts! - that
would be you, Scott, Mike, Pat [hurry up with that damn letter!], Steve [where's
my reply letter?], Kent [you too!], and the rest of you...). There is a vet in
town that we are going to see about getting her fixed but it depends on the cost
and what kind of butcher job they do in K - we've heard stories...
What's new...? I've been keeping a little piece of paper in my pocket to jot
down ideas to write about in terms of the little things and general observation,
so I'll just start down my list for the week.
Everyone here uses these big, bright, shiny red thermoses from China. They
usually have a very colorful bunch of flowers painted on the sides with a quite
painful, skinny metal carrying and pouring handle. It comes with a wooden cork
that at first seemed to work quite well. I couldn't understand why everyone had
the cork inside a plastic bag as if the seal was not very good. Well, after we
filled ours with hot water the first night we got it in preparation for the next
morning, we went to bed with dreams of hot water for coffee in the morning
without having to wait for the kettle. Upon opening the thermos, we discovered
the water to be not only hot but also incredibly scented with some fragrant
woody smell that came from the wooden cork - "oh so that's why they use those
plastic bags..."
I dropped our first one while Paul was still living with us and didn't find out
that you can buy replacement glass liners before we threw out the whole thing -
grrrr.....
Unlike the States where many institutions have a lot of equipment to maintain
the grounds, here they have only people, usually old pensioners, who spend the
day sweeping courtyards with little home-made brushes, one hand tucked behind the
back. When they sweep the dirt (?), it leaves a beautiful, symmetrical pattern
behind. From my second story classroom at the Humanities college, I often watch
and listen to the rhythmic 'wisk wisk' from below.
Last week we were invited to go to what at first sounded like a class at the
university, but turned out to be an 'English day/celebration' at a private high
school run by the university. On Saturday morning, before the Teachers'
Association meeting, we were escorted over there by taxi and led down this weird
hall (the school is actually an old dormitory - makes for strange sized rooms) -
and in to a room full of staring kids and adults. We got to sit right up front
under all the posters proclaiming, "Kazakstan And England Are Friends!" that the
students had created. Even at this point we weren't sure what was going on or
what was expected. It soon became painfully obvious as students stood up and in
halting English, asked us such easy questions (obviously prepared by a teacher)
as, "Please compare the educational systems of Kazakstan and the United States."
With frantic glances in each others' direction, we jumped in and made the best
of it. Then the students from a variety of forms (grades) came up and performed
a variety of skits, songs, and drama - often leaving us in poorly concealed gales
of mirth. At the end, after a very painful song, I remembered that I remembered
(redundant?) the lyrics to the Beatles 'Baby, You Can Drive My Car' because I
had just taught it the week before, so I jumped up, taught them the chorus, and
thoroughly embarrassed myself up there.
They gave us each a huge bouquet of flowers in a plastic/foil protective wrap -
people buy them here like potato chips - and went in to talk to the director of
the school who, predictably, begged us to teach at his school, and who,
predictably, said, "Well, it can just be between us," when we told her that would
couldn't take the money she offered us to teach there - we could make a killing
here, but would work ourselves to death...
The teachers' association meeting was much better - i.e. shorter - and I even
got up and gave a presentation/demonstration of one of my favorite dictation
games to the other teachers. It seems that many of the past meetings were just
Timur and Ahmad talking about bureaucratic crap, in English, while the teachers
just nodded their heads as it all flowed over their heads. Here, just because
they are English teachers doesn't mean they know English...try to figure that
one out. I feel that the teachers' meetings should be for the teachers in that
they learn different things and get a chance to improve their English as well. I
am now the chair of the Methodology committee (they love big names like that
here) and will organize that kind of stuff for other meetings.
We scooted home after the meeting to prepare for Joan's English teachers she
invited over for dinner. We made a big ol' dish of refried beans the night
before, and I made tortillas as Joan entertained in the kitchen. They asked if
all US men cooked as Jamie (the guy I replaced was the cook of the house as
well). I gave them a lesson on putting the beans, diced onions, tomatoes, and
red pepper, and then sprinkling the grated cheese followed by Mexican ketchup -
lots of strange looks from the attentive crowd - and they dug in. Some of them
really enjoyed it and put some away while others kind of played with it, the way
Fitz would play with a dead mouse, if he ever got the chance. We had put out a
spread on the table is K style: Korean carrot salad, round bread, candies, bottle
of wine and coke, and a teapot next to the big red thermos. We spoke mostly
English, of course, and I think they were pleased to find although we are
definitely weird by their standards, that we mean well and hopefully this will
all lead to more cultural exchanges.
The next day, Sunday, I couldn't get in to the RC because the babushka with the
key wasn't home, so I was played b-ball with Ahmad and Paul against the local
kids. I was going to go banya-ing with Paul over at this Jewish family that has
befriended him. I'll have to tell you some of Paul's stories - as a
non-practicing Jew, he's had a hard time convincing them that he actually is one.
Instead of the heat bath, Joan and I were invited by Dixie to go on a Hurricane
outing to their camel farm. When they bought the oil company here, Hurricane
didn't know they were getting cafes, restaurants, meat packing factories, farms,
hospitals, villages, etc.
We met her at the Hurricane building just up the street with a bunch of other
gringos and piled into the big, high tech western vans and buses they have. They
even brought along a huge packed lunch/picnic all packed in those Rubbermaid
Action Packer footlockers that we brought to K as our luggage. We drove out in
to the steppe - wow, is it flat! - to the camel farm where they have about 200
camels as well as sheep, goats, and other critters. They had three big camels
with floppy humps for the tourists to ride on as they were led in a circle around
the parking lot - yippee... One had a huge red satiny 'cloak' (?) on it that
said Hurricane Kumkol (Kumkol is the name of the oil fields) in English, Russian
and Kazak. Found out later that camel rides in Almaty cost $80. They gave us a
tour of the farm and we saw a big pen full of young camels who stood around in
groups and stared at us. About the same heights as the humans and with very
expressive faces, it felt like the great meeting of the species scene from a
science fiction movie. Right before the picnic, they took us on a tour of the
meat packing plant. It's a good way to help that appetite, especially the huge
power saws used to cuts hogs in half and all the sharp hooks on pulleys hanging
around. Apparently the K oil company had ordered this plant direct from
Oklahoma, some time ago I think, and it arrived, every single last nut and bolt,
in five or six shipping containers that are being used as storage now. It is
quite a high-tech and smooth operation.
For the picnic they packed sandwiches, potato chips, Snickers (yum!), beer (way
too much), and BANANAS! I ate two in about one minute; the first since I left
the States. Hurricane had asked the farm and plant people to not prepare
anything as they didn't want to impose and often times the 'terrorist
hospitality' can be quite painful for westerners, but they did anyway with
shashlik (bbq), 'byes by mark' ('five fingers' in Kazak - their traditional dish
of horse meat and noodles), and bottles of vodka. Luckily there was not enough
room for everybody in the 'banquet room' - probably where they keep the sheep
heads on off days - so Joan and I sat out in the pleasant evening sun eating
bananas and snagging beers out of the cooler. The Hurricane people are really
nice and have really reached out to us. They often buy us beer and food at the
Kyzabek (Dixie keeps telling them, sometimes embarrassingly so, how poor we are
compared to what they get paid). The head of security wants us to have their
emergency security number to call in case we need it. They have a 24 hour
security force with big, fast vehicles and lots of muscle and influence here -
that will be very nice.
Oh yeah, speaking of that meat packing plant, yesterday we went to the bazaar
with Kazbek to buy the ingredients to make 'pilof,' a wonderful rice, meat,
carrot, and onion Uzbek dish that is very popular. He wanted to go into the meat
room in the bazaar which Joan and I have thus far avoided. After a few steps
into this room full of things I actually do not want to describe and a smell that
I couldn't, I elected to wait outside and look around - whew...
And speaking of Kazbek, we caught a taxi to the airport about 30 kilometers out
of town to meet him on Tuesday. Like the camel farm, it is also way out in the
steppe - you can see the plane coming for miles. It was strange to hear
airplanes; in the States, it is common for them to fly overhead. We haven't had
that happen yet in Kazakstan, except for at the airport. We didn't see much of
the airport; we couldn't really get in and just stood around outside waiting.
The building looked like an apartment building in the middle of nowhere. Since
it was a flight from Almaty, all kinds of modern, western vehicles were there to
meet people. I guess there are a number of western businesses here. I waited
too long to ask for a ride back to KO on the Hurricane bus before it took off,
so we had to wait for the local bus which had huge plywood panel in place of one
window and whistled in the slipstream. We crossed over the Suridaria river on a
really cool bridge that I still don't understand...
People here dress up a lot, painfully so, especially the institute student.
However, since the supply and selection is limited, you see a lot of the same
outfits which makes me think of People magazine when they show pictures of
'famous' people wearing the same designer outfits.
Yet all the men bust this dressed up image when they schlepp around in fake Nike
and Addidas polyester sweat pants. Hey, Karen, where the hell are those pants
you were making for me? I want to impress the locals...
Another funny point for you car geeks - John and Pat Pickett (Pat, I know you're
lurking there, reading and not writing to me. I sure hope I don't forget to mail
you those interesting beer bottle labels I've been collecting for you - hint
hint...) - many of the mini-vans (mini-buses) don't have ignitions that need
keys. Often there are two wires hanging down that only need to be touched
together. Or sometimes the big trucks or buses have to be started with one of
those long engine/starter (?) cranks that get stuck in the front of the vehicle
like those old model Ts I remember seeing in movies and such.
Pat, most of the beer is okay stuff from Europe - Tuborg, Holstein, Bavaria,
mostly 5% brew -, and there is supposedly a brewpub here but Ahmad, a current
volunteer says it's crap. There is a beer from Shimkent, down south, called " ¯
xxxx " - pronounced 'shim-kent-sky-ya pee-va' that is not too bad and comes in
big half liter bottles. Apparently some volunteers went there for a tour of the
brewery in that fine American tradition, and the locals said, "A tour, huh? Come
with us." They took them into a back room, sat them down, plopped down a case of
beer in front of them, and commanded them to drink it. Sounds like my kind of
tour
I just finished teaching for the week and found that the 'controller' - a rather
ominous name for the person who is charge of the schedule - has made my new
schedule based on my divided classes and of course, it conflicts with my class at
School No. 2 - sigh... You'd love this controller; she sits at this desk in a
little room with the schedule on these big sheets of brown paper and organizes.
It's all in pencil and heavily erased and rewritten.
Well, I have just written way too much and need to go home, unwind and see Goobi.
Tell people if they want to call that we are usually here (our time) Mondays,
Wednesday, and Friday mornings from nine to ten. Dixie said she had no problem
with receiving e-mails so if people want to send them to you and you could
condense them that would be a good way to do it. I also met a couple from
Hurricane who have a videocamera and may let me borrow it to make a video of KO.
I might be able to have it to you by Thanksgiving if I hustle the process along.
Take care and say hi to everybody!
peace and love,
Rich
P.S. I saw my first critter in KO! A little, fat mouse just ran across the
floor of the RC - yahoo!
P.P.P.S. Joan just walked in with letters! Kents' and Dad's from Sept 24 and
yours from Sept 26. Thanks!