Dear Mom,
Feb. 2 11:30 PM
It's late at night here at the Leninogorsk Sanitorium where we are
staying during our IST. We just finished up a session we had to discuss
the goals and objectives of teacher trainers in Kaz - ugh! Lots of people
with too much to say.
So let's jump back to the beginning of all of this. After I talked
with you, I headed down to Kurt and Diana's apartment to hang out/sleep there
until Shawn and Beth came with a taxi at three am.
Ooops, let me back up to earlier in the day. Joan's school had some
sort of English competition/Open House for English teachers from other
schools; I'm still confused as to what it was. Joan followed the format
that Lindsay followed last year and organized a competition among her
English students with local expats as the judges and as participants with
local English teachers observing. So Kurt, Diana and I got roped into
participating. It was at the competition that I learned that Diana was
going on the same train that I was along with Shawn and Beth.
In a large room in Joan's freezing cold school, there were three
tables of students: one of ninth form students, one of tenth forms students, and
one of 11th form students. There was also a table of three really cold
judges who wore their coats and hats during the competition as did all
the teachers who were sitting on chairs at the back of the room. The room
was a science room with the periodic table on the wall and murals giving
facts about the planets, radiation, formulas, optics, etc. - all in
Cyrillic letters and painted quite beautifully. In the front of the room
were tables with all the visual aids and materials that the teachers of
the school have lovingly prepared over the years: envelopes full of
activity cards, posters, homemade books/packets of about English and
American culture, etc. If they put the same effort into teaching as they
do drawing little lacy patterns on the edges of these materials, the
students would know better much English. They are required by the
educational administration to produce these things. Timur tried to tell
me that I had to create these things as well, but I pretty much refused
and have not heard much about them since them.
The competition consisted of three parts: a listening and summarizing
activity, charades, and a poster and oral presentation about an American
holiday.
Feb. 6
So we each read a short text to one of the forms and they had to listen
and then one of them had to give an oral summary of the text. I think it
was a bit too difficult and not much fun as a competition activity. The
three judges had to listen to their summaries, confer and then hold up
little scorecards with numbers on them (1-5). We could give bad grades
but as it is still the Soviet educational system and no one is allowed to
do much worse than the rest, so we never gave a three even though some
groups deserved them. We also conferred to make sure that the end results
would not be a blowout.
The next activity was charades where we had to choose the word or
phrase from an envelope full of them and then act it out while each group got a
chance to guess. I drew two of the really hard ones - island and salesman
- but was able to get them to guess them.
The last one was a presentation by the different forms of an American
holiday; there was Valentine's Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. They had
prepared a poster and a prepared speech to give. The 11th form did not do
very well (they came in third in the competition overall because they
were too cool to really get into it) with Valentine's Day; only one
student got up to speak but could not finish so another one had to get up
and finish it off. The ninth form did a good job with Thanksgiving; they
had a nice poster, and every member of their team spoke. However, the
tenth form were excellent (they came in first place quite easily - the
ninth form tried really hard but their language skills were a little
lacking) with Christmas. They had a four sided poster that was in the
form of a huge X-mas card; they gave an excellent presentation with
everyone speaking; and they sang "So Give Us Some Figgy Pudding" which is
a really weird song when you listen carefully to the lyrics.
After we tallied the scores, prizes were given. The first place group
received maps of America while everyone else received an American
baseball pencil. The kids took off and then the teacher part of the event
started. I believe that schools hold these events as a sort of open house
for teachers from other schools. Kazna, Joan's counterpart, led the
meeting, showing all the resources and materials that the school had and
that teachers had prepared. However, most of these resources are really
old or other schools have the exact same things. That, plus the extreme
cold, caused a mutiny of teachers saying that it was too cold and could
we please get to the issues that needed to be discussed and decided.
Kazna was not too pleased by this but had to give in to the collective
decision.
So they babbled on and argued in Russian while Joan and I sat there
freezing our butts off. Joan tried to look interested and paid attention
but to no avail. I usually don't even try. If they are going to have a
meeting in a language that I cannot understand, why should I pay
attention? After ages of time -- I think extreme cold can indeed slow
time itself -- everybody took off for lunch. Originally there was to be a
lunch for all the teachers, but the school decided for some reason not to
provide lunch. However there was a lunch for only the teachers of School
#3 and the spouse (me -- although I am considered their son-in-law as
Joan is their daughter -- we always go through this routine when there is
a function at Joan's school -- they mean well but really should get some
new material. We trooped down to the school cafe where it was warm
(yippee!) to chow down on 'monti' (boiled meat filled dumplings), Korean
salads, 'kill-ba-sa,' cheese, and bread - all swished down with hot,
milky, sugary tea.
We managed to escape and headed out for the RC to do some quick
errands before going home to pack and hang out. So that brings us back to Kurt
and Diana's. I caught a microbus with my huge red backpack (I tried to
pack light but to no avail - with the conference, hiking in the
mountains, and x-c skiing, there were just too many activities coming to
be able to pack light) and crashed on their sofa until Shawn called to
tell us that he was going out to find the taxi and would be there soon.
We arrived at the train station just as the train arrived and
jumped on. We all had tickets on the same 'vagon' but the tickets said 'conductor
will show.' So with all the horror stories of people sleeping on dirty
laundry bags or standing in the corridor for hours in my mind, we handed
our tickets over to the conductor. Luckily, the other three (not Beth
yet) can speak a fair amount of Kazak, and they started chatting him up.
With a big smile on his face, he said to follow him down the corridor to
a 'koo-pay' door. With a flourish, he opened the door and gestured us
into an empty, clean, well-lit, warm, empty compartment for all four of
us. Wow...
We quickly settled in and went to sleep. The ride was rather
uneventful;
we lounged around and talked. They were going to a town just outside of
'Zhambool' for a Kazak language conference. The only problem was that our
compartment gave us the worst headaches; we weren't sure if it was just
because it was stuffy or some sort of toxic fumes from the heating system
or what. My head was killing me for most of the trip.
In Turkestan, they got off to visit with another American who was
teaching there in the same program/company as the group I was traveling
with. He had been there for many years and is near fluent in Kazak. There
are a lot of 'non-missionaries' here in Kazakstan. Missionaries are not
allowed in Kaz, so they come in different forms: English teachers mostly
and some humanitarian aid workers.
Feb. 8
So some time in the evening, they left me and I was alone for awhile.
Then the conductor had me move to the next compartment to share with an
18 year old, first-year mathematics student at a university somewhere
near Moscow who was coming home to visit her parents in Almaty. Her name
was Irina, and we spent a lot of time in broken English and Russian
talking about stuff. There was also 21 year old Kazak man who was
Militzia (police) in the Narcotics section in Chimkent. He was not
officially in our compartment but hung with us a great deal. We spent a
lot of time talking about the US, especially music. I was asked to
transcribe the lyrics to a really annoying love song that I can't stand
called "Unbreak My Heart" and then explain the words to them in Russian.
I eventually dozed off and awoke to the train conductor banging on
the door with his metal bathroom door key. It is a very effective and
annoying way to wake up the occupants inside. A bleary taxi ride in a
Soviet jeep took me to the PC office where I woke up the guard at around
seven or so. Luckily there is a shower in the office PCVs can use after
or before hours. I was in dire need of one as the last bath I had was the
Sunday before. Five days without bathing, especially with a hot and
sweaty 24 hour train ride, makes for a smelly man.
PCVs and staff started wandering in as the morning progressed, and we
all said hi and caught up on each other's life. Joe Bonner showed up
around 10, and we headed off into the mountains for hiking and sledding.
We had not found any good sliding materials, so we bought two heavy duty
plastic shopping bags with handles. I sat on Lady Diana's smiling face
all the way down the mountain. Even though the bags didn't last the whole
trip (mine became so shredded and filled with all the torn bits of
linoleum and other plastic bags that I found on the trail and stuffed in
that it looked like a crazy bird nest), it worked well enough for only 25
tenge. The weather was beautiful and sunny; we had to keep changing
layers as we went from sun to shade.
There had not been a lot of snow recently, and so the trail was a
little worn in places, worn down to the dirt. There were enough places, however,
that were slidable and more than enough fun. I am looking forward to
hiking that trail in the summer. There are some not too high peaks near
the top of the trail, looming over the alpine meadow that I would like to
climb. I think that trail will be used as a warm up/training for people
this summer before any big hikes. We are still planning on hiking to Lake
Issykul in Kyrgystan this summer and will need to get in shape for it.
Back at the office (dry because we finally got the right
combination of gear and clothes to stay dry while sledding) we ran into some other PCVs
who were in town for a variety of reasons. Denise, who was up north, was
passing through on her way to her new site in the south, in Taraz
(formerly Zhambool). So here's a not so fun story:
Right before IST, Denise was coming home from a local's house after
dinner there. She got off the bus and started to walk home in the dark;
dark comes early here and can be really annoying. I don't remember the
details about how or where, but a man basically attacked her and knocked
her down, trying to steal her 'shop-ka' (fur hat). She tried to fight him
off with a few well-aimed kicks to the groin but either missed or the man
is like the guys in the movies who can take a shot in the goolies and
shake it off. So he absconded with her hat into the night. Then to make
matters worse, as she is lying there crying and all shook up, this old
man with a dog walks up and runs off with her plastic bag which is lying
there on the ground, containing photos, paperwork and her camera. What a
rotten deal . . .
So somehow the police find the guy, and Denise has to come for an
identification parade. You know how the crooks get lined up against a
wall? Well, it wasn't a bunch of crooks she had to look at, it was a
table full of hats. She had to choose her hat out of the bunch so as to
verify that the guy was in fact a crook.
The short of it all is that the police want to prosecute the rat bag,
but he is out on bail or whatever system they use, and Peace Corps
decided that it was too big of a risk for her to be there when this shady
character is out on the streets and pending prosecution. Therefore Peace
Corps made her change sites against her will. She tried to contest the
decision, even appealing to Peace Corps DC, but they agreed with the
staff here, and she had to go. She is not happy about it because she had
made friends, bonded with her students, etc. Taraz is a much nicer town
than her site, so at least that is some consolation. Oh yeah, they caught
the old man too but did not recover the camera, only the other stuff.
So back to Friday night. We all decided to spend the night at the
same hotel we stayed at during IST since it was pretty cheap, and we didn't
feel like sleeping on someone's floor or taking a long and expensive taxi
ride out to Joe's pad if we wanted to go out for dinner or some such.
Luckily, we discovered that if you get a room without a shower, it works
out to be only 280 tenge, which is really cheap! I'm glad we found this
out for future trips into Almaty.
For dinner, we went to that Italian place called Idea Italia where
the waitress wear green and yellow polyester uniforms (it looks like a
Packer's game) and the food is great. I had a bowl of tomato soup that
was incredible! It is the first tomato soup I've had that was made from
scratch, not from a can. The pizza was of course, quite good and cheap as
usual.
A bottle of wine and some more conversation with the group (six or
so) back at the hotel ended a really good day.
On Saturday, Feb. 7, I climbed back up to the PC office and waited
for everybody going on the trip to arrive from their various locations.
Brian Varrier, who is directly responsible for Paul's addiction to chess,
and therefore, indirectly responsible for mine, stopped by and brought his
chess board along. I am proud to say that I smoked him in the first game,
with a sneak attack that I actually planned and successfully pulled on him.
He was a bit stunned! The second game ended in a pawn end game which he won
but not by much.
We all taxied down to the train station: Rita, Brian Randall, Rob
O'Donavon, Aaron Townsend, me (all PCVs) and Anna (PC staff in charge of
training whose family lives in Ustkenimengorsk (Ust) and Ekatrina (TEFL
APCD). We had boxes of books for John Wyman in Ust and a TV for Vee Pierce
in Leninogorsk, all of which got us stopped just outside the entrance to
the train station by some officious militiza who wanted to see our
documents and harass us in general. It was here that I learned I would not
have my passport for the whole of the trip.
On Friday, due to annoying bureaucracy (annoying seems to be the
word of the day) I had to give Vlad, the ticket buying guy for the office,
my passport and 2000 tenge to get my return ticket. I took off for the
mountains, assuming that he would give it all to Anna. Well, Anna at the
train station didn't have the stuff and had even given Vlad money
independent of mine to get a ticket. So I've spent the whole trip working
with my 'potato' or 'kar-tich-ka' as my only form of ID. It has been a bit
of a pain as most hotels and other places like to see your passport and
write down all the info on their Soviet era forms.
I also learned that Ekatarina does not have a lot of experience of
traveling on the train nor had any idea of the hassles that we go through
as PCVs while traveling. She said in a surprised voice, "This never happens
to me when I travel. Why are they bothering us?" Well, Ekatarina, welcome
to the world of being an American traveling in your country. I think she
flies too much and is a good example of how out of touch the office is with
our daily lives and hassles.
So the seven of us settled into one and three quarters compartments
with the men in one and the three women in the other with a poor male
local. Rita has become quite a hard ass here and will not put up with any
crap on the train. There was this one drunk shmuck who kept bothering us,
and Rita would just slam the compartment door in his face or tell him
forcefully to go away. It was about a 30 hour train ride - ugh. We all got
to know each other well, perhaps too well. At some points it felt like
being in high school with people farting and then everybody laughing
hysterically. It was a blast. However with all this farting and sweating
and such, it became quite ripe in the compartment. Rita came in later and
said, "Yuck, it smells like a Denny's in here!" We played cards (Brian
taught us this really cool Czech Republic card game - he lived there for a
few years teaching English), read, told stories, did some initial planning
for the conference, ate lots of unhealthy food, and of course, slept.
That night we bought some beers from a vendor at some deserted,
dark, cold, snowy station in the middle of nowhere. It might have been in
Russia. Our train actually crossed the border north before heading back
down to Ust. Brian tried to spend his rubles from an earlier trip but was
unable to ($1 = 6000 rubles). On the way down, though, he was able to foist
them off at a loss on a vendor lady selling 'pear-rosh'ki' (little potato
or cabbage filled pastries). Brian also had a bottle of some horrendous
alcohol that the Czech's swear by. The label on the back said something (in
English) about it being the choice of bitter drink connoisseurs. It was
like a nasty mix of cough syrup and Yagermeister. So we played more cards
and got silly with the booze. We slept really well that night.
The next day was a blur of train, train, train. The scenery was
basically the same as all the trips I've taken in winter. Nothing but flat,
white surfaces with occasional roads or buildings. A few times we saw
flocks of sheep slowing moving across the snow with a shepherd nearby,
leaning on his crook. He was always far from any buildings or civilization,
as far as we could see. We wondered how far he was from home and talked a
bit about that as a lifestyle vs., say, a factory line worker. The train
would pass through little hamlets or clusters of houses, all buried in
snow, silent and still. Occasionally there would be a dog or a person
standing there, silently watching the train thunder past.
In stations where we did stop, we would descend to get some fresh
air into a swirling mass of people selling food and drink. All kinds of
pastries and snacks, their names shouted into the air create quite a din.
The moment you show any interest or buy something from somebody, you are
surrounded by a crowd of people thrusting their wares at you. Or sometimes,
the people will get on the train at the stop and cruise the aisles. I also
believe that some people ride the train between stations, selling food and
drink as well. They must have to pay the conductors some kind of 'fee' for
that.
The big specialty we saw as we went north were dried, smoked fish.
This poor little guys are split almost in half and then spread out to be
cured, often with all the little fishy bits still clinging to it. Needless
to say, I didn't buy one, but their stench followed their vendors as they
tramped up and down the corridors, often billowing into our compartment,
thus adding to the nasal ambiance we had already created.
We arrived in Ust around seven and taxied to the Ustkenimingorsk
Hotel, a large, Soviet version of Hotel Kazol in Almaty. The rooms reminded
me of a youth hostel, not a lot of luxuries there! We met Jason Penterman
(Akmola) and Brendan Kelly (Petropolvask), the other Kaz 5ers on the trip
at the hotel and headed out for Anna's mother's cafe. Due to train
schedules and the long distances they had to travel, Brendan had left site
in the extreme north on Monday so as to be in Akmola by Wednesday to catch
the only train to Ust with Jason, which arrived on Friday. So they had been
there for awhile visiting with Todd Armstrong and Cathleen Courts (Kaz 5)
and getting to know Ust.
As we were checking in, these young, attractive, scantily clad
ladies came up to us and handed us slips of paper. Upon inspection, they
turned out to be ads/discounted passes to the nightclub/strip joint up on
the eighth floor. It sounded appealing, but Brendan quickly convinced us
otherwise. He had gone with Jason and Cathy and found it to be a total rip
off with overpriced beer, a cover charge and a music charge! Some places,
even restaurants, will charge these baloney fees. Jason and the crew also
missed the show and still had to pay all the 'fees.' He did say that one
lady approached him and asked if he would like a private show or dance. He
grabbed his money and hormones and ran away screaming.
Anna's mom owns and runs a cafe in the ground floor of a HUGE
apartment building away from the center of town. This town is much bigger
than KO (they also have heat and running hot water, dirt bags) and has
bigger buildings - ten story behemoths that run for blocks and blocks. At
first, it seemed that there would not be enough business to support the
cafe where it was, but when one realizes that the one building alone houses
over 1,000 people, it becomes obvious that a small cafe that offers quick
food and a place to get away from an overcrowded apartment of in-laws would
be a hit, especially a place that has karaoke and good beer on tap! Pat
Pickett and John Bailey, you would not believe the beers I had on this trip!
So we all were ferried over to the cafe through the dark streets to
find a table spread with food and drink, into to which we tucked. One funny
note is that there were a bunch of locals there, and as one man was
leaving, he yelled, "Yankee, go home!" We stuffed ourselves and drank vodka
to the wee hours, laughing and telling stories. I tried some karaoke but
failed miserably as all the English word songs I did not know.
The next morning after breakfast at John's house, we headed over to
their RC. John is a Kaz 3 PCV who extended for his third year and is the
King of Ust. He is a perfect example of how older people get all the
respect and help they need. He knows almost no Russian and somehow
absentmindedly putters through life there, getting things done and being
very successful - amazing! He is one of the actual teacher training PCVs
and was the driving force behind the whole conference.
Their RC is in the main library and it quite nice and big. The
library is a wonderful building full of art, wooden floors, and Soviet
murals and statutes. It is very warm and pleasant and reminds me of a lot
of university libraries I have seen in the States.
UST is a really nice town of about 150,000 people. The downtown is
bustling with shops and stores. There is a really comprehensive public
transportation system, especially the 'tram-v(eyes)' or trams. These
trundle along on rails in the middle of the street, looking right of Star
Wars. With sheet metal skirts that reach down to the ground and with funky
technology, they look right of the streets of Tatooneen.
At the RC, we worked together to finalize the plans for the
workshops and the goals and objectives of the IST. We had not had a chance
to meet before and work all this out. The IST was for teacher trainers or
PCVs who are doing teaching training to get together to share ideas and
develop guidelines for the Pre-Service Training (PST) for Kaz 6 as there
had been none for any of the previous groups.
Overall the conference was a total success. I learned many new
things that I am excited to try while teaching students and teachers. I led
a very successful workshop on how to use conversational dialogs to teach
all elements of language and to add a little variety and excitement in the
classroom. We worked for two days with two groups of local teachers who had
received the days off from work with pay (unheard of here for teachers'
administrations to support them like that - John has a lot of influence in
that area and the teachers are very eager to learn and probably brought
their own pressure to bear on reluctant directors and principals). The
teachers had a wonderful time and begged us to come back. We had them fill
out evaluations which gave very positive results.
On a personal success level, John watched one of my sessions and
said that he was very impressed and wanted to invite me to be a teacher at
the SOROS English Teacher Summer School that is held every year. He can't
specifically invite me but can only recommend me to the people there, who
he knows very well. It sounds like a great opportunity but may have a time
conflict either with PST summer school at which I would like to be the
Resource Teacher Coordinator (during summer school in Kapchigai, local and
current PCV teachers observe and help trainees during the four week summer
school) or with the Environmental Summer Camp that Joe and Meredith are
organizing in Issyk. The SOROS summer school may be in Ust and there may
also be another one in another city as well.
You also might ask what I get out of it. Well, John said something
about SOROS paying my rent for the year in exchange which would allow me to
cut way back on my teaching hours and to concentrate on teacher training
which is a much more efficient way to improve the English situation in
Kazakstan in general. With SOROS paying the rent, I wouldn't have to worry
about my institute squawking about me not working enough hours to pay our
rent and utilities. I would much rather focus my energies on teaching
teachers who want to learn than kids who don't give a rat's behind. Now
that is not to say that there are not students who do care, but I am sick
of being used to teach all these low level crap classes while the local
teachers get the upper level students where I could do the most good.
So, the train left that evening for Leninogorsk. Since it was only
a three hour ride, we went 'plaz-cart' (hard class) which is just benches
and tables, not bunks or privacy. We took over one end of the car and gave
all the locals sore necks because they kept craning them around to look at
us. I got some good games of chess off of Brendan, Jason, and John. Brendan
had been on the chess team in high school but was frustrated playing me as
he has gotten very rusty. I chewed up Jason, but John beat me in a well
played game.
We arrived in Leninogorsk at dark and were bundled off to the
Sanitorium which is where this letter begins. The Sanitorium is a
hotel-like place where people used to go to recuperate from illnesses. They
have doctors, massage, pools, banya, etc. Now it is is mostly used as a
hotel for people looking to get away from the daily grind of life in the
village or city. There are still sick people there, but the money comes
from the other types of guests. The Leninogorsk soccer team was there
practicing; every morning, they would run off into the frosty air for
training. They often played soccer on the road as it was the only flat and
hard enough surface to do so.
We checked into our rooms, two rooms for two with a communal toilet
and bathroom. I roomed with Brendan, while Jason and John roomed next door.
The four Kaz 4ers were down the hall, and Anna and Ekatarina shared
another. Originally Ekatarina was not coming with us, and we were looking
forward to having fun and having organizational meetings in our underwear
while drinking beer.
We felt that having our 'boss' there would put a damper on being to
express ourselves freely about PC in general. We were not only to try to
organize something for IST but also create a list of suggestions for staff.
We ended up having the meetings in secret, usually in the evening anyway as
we were trying to crowd three days of conference into two so we would have
Thursday free for X-C skiing.
It was good to have her along though, as we really got to know one
another and developed a friendship beyond just being fellow teachers. I
think it helped her by letting her learn how to relax with a bunch of
gringos and have a good time.
The Sanitorium (now called San) served us a decent meal at a decent
price, and we all crawled into bed as we were tired from the party the
night before at Anna's mom's cafe.
So Tuesday morning, we awoke to find rather large mountains facing
us from across the valley. Leninogorsk is quite beautiful and is surrounded
by mountains on all sides that are great for skiing in winter and hiking in
summer. It is a small town of around 50,000 but seems much bigger because
it is sprawled out. There are many trees in town and a forest creeps up to
one side. There are also many X-C ski trails everywhere, filled with packs
of children wearing all manner of skis.
We arrived at the school to find all teachers waiting for us.
Unfortunately due to bad planning, there was no opening ceremony (don't
worry; we mentioned in the guidelines to be given to the next group), and
we jumped right into our workshops. Unlike many of the teachers I have
worked with, these teachers were eager and participated a great deal. In
the case of one teacher, participated too much. She meant well, but we had
a hard time getting her to shut up or sit still.
The school is where David Wallace (Kaz 5) teaches. He is a great,
kooky guy which may explain why the teachers there are used to Americans.
Jay Meadows and Vee Pierce (Kaz5) are both Environmental PCVs there and
helped out during the conference.
After the workshops, I went with Yelena, Vee's counterpart, to find
Vee and some X-C gear so I go out for a brief excursion. On the way to the
school, we passed this ridge/hill on the edge of town where there is an
old, rusty ski jump with most of the boards missing. Apparently this is
where the Olympic team used to practice. The Olympic X-C team is based and
trains in Leninogorsk. Next to the jump, the locals have shaped the earth
to form a natural jump and in the afternoons, you can watch little kids
practice flying. The skis are twice as big as them and they have to climb
up the steep hill each time, but there is a steady stream of bodies
shooting through the air.
The good X-C is in the forest that is on the other side of a
field/plain that is an arctic tundra with strong winds blasting across. As
I got a late start because of people putzing around and wasting my time and
making me quite cross, I only went across the plain and not into the
forest. As the sun was about to set, I didn't think it would be a great
idea to get stuck out there by myself. So I scooted back and hoofed it to
the San to catch up on one of the organizational meetings being held in
secret.
After another institutionalized meal, we trooped over to Jay's
apartment for a Super Bowl Party. Tim Jones (Kaz4), who had been in the
states on emergency family leave, had brought back a tape of the game. We
all crowded into Jay's living room and watched the game while drinking beer
from the local microbrewery (more to come on that later). I had tried to
stay pure. I tried not to know the score. Unfortunately on the early Friday
morning in the PC office, Brian Randall, who had been sleeping on the sofa
as he had gotten in very late and had needed a place to stay, blurted out
the awful truth to me. It was still a great game thought; however, Tim's
tape had run out and had not captured the last minute or so of the game!
Ugh! So I'm still in limbo; I know if I wish it hard enough, I can change
the end of the game . . .
The next day was about the same. I skied with Vee around the town.
The forest that creeps up to the edge of town has some nice slopes on it to
play around on. I'm glad I got to go out two times before the big day
because I was not crippled by sore muscles the day after.
Another secret meeting was followed by a gathering at the local
microbrewery joint. We walked in to find a pretty normal looking place with
a bar and tables, most of which were empty. They did have pizza ovens,
though, and lots of little pizza pans with dough in them waiting to be
cooked and eaten! Once the waitress knew we were with Jay and Vee and were
supposed to me them there, she ushered us through the back, through the
brewing facilities (all shiny and impressive looking, Pat Pickett!), to a
small enclosed room with a big table and chair. We ordered two liter
bottles of beer (120 tenge each) and a whole load o' pizzas.
Apparently a Dutch company had built this brewery to serve the
surrounding area but had gone under due to some unknown reason. Somebody,
maybe a local, bought it and had kept it running. In this land of
unreliable anything, I am surprised that it is still running smoothly. The
beer was quite good and went well with the excellent, small pizzas. We
joked that maybe they didn't know how to run it. Sort of like a sci-fi
story where people find some advance technology they don't understand and
think it is magic.
"Look, Boris, you pull this lever and beer comes out! I don't
understand how it works."
"Who the hell cares, Alex! Let's get hammered!"
There were a lot of drunk and friendly people. When they drink
here, they get pushy friendly with the Americans. It is a real joy . . .
The group broke up with some of us going over to Vee's to play
poker. On the way, we ran into an ice ramp/slide that the kids had been
building over time. It was about six feet tall with steps leading up the
backside and had a long, slippery slope falling away. So we slid on the
slide for an hour or so, trying to knock each over, trying to go down while
standing up, trying out various bits and pieces of plastic, cardboard and
board left lying around to find the fastest one. This little piece of
particle board was the fastest by far.
At Vee's, we played poker until electricity went out, a rarity in
that town, and then we played poker by candlelight. I started out with only
thirty tenge and ended up with seventy or so. We scooted back around one to
get some sleep for the great skiing trip the next day.
It took us forever to get started with everybody putzing around and
wasting time. It's too bad because apparently there are some really good
trails up in the foothills, but we didn't have enough time to get to them.
Also, some members of our skiing party had not skied in years and were
really slow. We finally got across the plain into the trees, a forest of
beautiful pines. The trail twisted and dipped until it came to the river at
the foot of the hills. There we stopped an built a fire to cook hotdogs and
heat water for tea.
Maybe it is a different mentality, but the localšs idea of an
outdoor outing, for example a hike, is to take a bus somewhere, laden down
with plastic bags, walk for maybe 15 or 20 minutes, and then plop down to
unpack an ungodly amount of food and stay there the entire time, just
chowing and lounging around. To the Americans who want to get the exercise,
who want to get moving after a quick bite on the trail, this can be
infuriating.
So we made a fire, in the snow, and sat around and ate a lot of
food. No wonder their backpacks are so heavy; they carry so much crap! I
had wanted to ski more, but the fire and the food created a commitment I
couldnšt escape. However, it was beautiful in the forest on the edge of
the river (don't worry; there are pictures).
Eventually we headed out, along the bank of the river. As there was
no actual trail there, we had to do some bushwhacking which I have not done
before on skis. It was quite difficult and fun to pick one's way between
trees and over obstacles. We hit a trail and I took off quickly with Andre,
one on the guides, to have some fun at speed.
We got back to Vee's house before most of the group, so I dropped
off most of my stuff and headed out on a quick photo taking trip before we
had to pack up and leave the San.
The taxi took us to the station where the train took us by
'plaz-kart' to Ust. We had another organizational session on the train
with butcher paper taped over the window to act as a temporary chalkboard.
Talk about the locals looking at us.
After we checked into the hotel and tracked down Todd and Cathy, we
went to this little kiosk/restaurant next to the hotel called 'Traktor'
('grill,' I think) where they had the best beer I've tasted in Kazakstan. I
soaked off a label or two to send to Pat Pickett and for a souvenir. It is
called 'roos-kai-ya chore-nai-ya pee-va' (Russian black beer). While not a
stout or a porter, it is a darker beer, similar in consistency to Sam
Adam's in taste and body. I bought two bottles to take home to KO and hope
they will make it. Maybe you can take some home when you come to visit.
I felt energetic when we went back to the hotel, but after I
lounged on the bed to talk to people, the combination of skiing and a
couple of beers knocked my lights right out.
The next day we had breakfast (French toast and a local equivalent
of bacon) again at John's. I have to stop now because Rob is a butt. I
will tell Anna to e-mail this to you on Monday. Please send a copy to Dixie
so I can add it to my file and know where I left off. Take care!
peace and love, rich