6/16/97 Dear Mom, Another week has gone by. It is hard for me to believe we have already been here for two weeks, and hard to believe that it has only been two weeks. So much has happened and nothing has happened. I'm in a sort of odd limbo between the U.S. and Kazakstan. It still has not sunk in for me where I am. Thankfully this Thursday we start our Russian classes. The Kazak classes have been fun and interesting, but I want to be able to talk to my family, understand people in the bazaar, and just get more in touch with where I am. My Kazak teacher, Maria, I will miss. She really is a great teacher, and is earnest in her efforts. She is of Kazak descent, not Russian like my family, and she believes strongly in the history and the future of her country; and people. It was her birthday on Saturday, so after class we all trooped over to her house for a celebration meal. Our class project for the day was to use our newly learned Kazak in the bazaar and buy some of the things she would need for the day. It was fun bargaining and practicing the language. People were impressed and pleased to hear us using the language, although some of the Russian vendors were not so impressed. I spoke with her briefly after dinner about whether or not she was happy that Kazakstan was independent. She said she is happy, even though things are hard now. She said that things are always hardest in the beginning. Her optimism is most impressive considering that she and her family have not had gas for cooking, hot water, or for heat since October, 1996. She lives with her husband and three young boys in the top floor of her seven story, Soviet-block apartment building, where they must fill the bathtub for water they might need later. And since there is no pressure in the pipes, a jar is left under the kitchen tap in the sink to catch whatever water makes its way up. The stove is gas and therefore useless to her. She and her sister cook for the entire family on two hot plate like things. The worst part is that this is fairly normal here. Our own family is lucky to live on the first floor for water pressure, and they have a tank of propane under the kitchen sink, connected to the stove for cooking. Maria, my teacher cannot bake, but Larissa, my host mother can occasionally. However, it uses a great deal of propane, which is expensive. I knew that our life in the States was good, but the contrast between here and there is so stark in many ways. I am almost ashamed to show our pictures here. Maria asked on the way to her house if we had so much broken glass and litter. Of course, we had to say no, but there is a certain ashamedness or embarrassment in that. For all these people here, I worry what will happen to them and their families and I want to bring them home with me. It's not only material goods, but the relative political and economic stability of our country and daily life I'd like to give them But yet they must stay here to make their own place in the scheme of things. On Sunday we had a group trip to a nearby river, the Illy, where we hiked down a cliff to the plain and river below. It was quite a surprise to come around the bend on the bus and see it there. The steppe is flat like Illinois and Nebraska, with only a few low, scrawny trees and grasses not much higher than my knee. And it dry and sandy here. I don't know how anything grows. But here in what seems like an endless expanse, is a valley with a beautiful blue river at the bottom. The current was fast, but not dangerous. Paul, the 71-year old volunteer in our group, attempted to swim to the other side, and was carried nearly out of sight. However, he used the current and the bend in the river to his advantage and got safely to land-on the other side. Luckily, a boat came down the river and Anna, who is Russian but speaks excellent English, got them to go over and get Paul. He got a standing ovation from all of us when he returned. We swam and picnicked on the cornucopia of food sent by our host mothers. I've never seen so many boiled potatoes, boiled eggs, and cucumbers in my life. After lunch, most of us went for short hikes either upstream or downstream to the hills on either side. I saw a cowboy/shepherd watering his sheep on the other side and then herding them up the steep, steep incline of the bank while he rode on horseback. The hike back up nearly killed us as the sun and heat here are pretty intense, as well as us being very tired. We were all a bit dehydrated and extremely tired after swimming and hiking all day. Everyone was very worried about me because my face got so red, as it always does. But the valley was lovely. Flocks of birds with orange bodies and black wings would fly along the cliffs or emerge suddenly from the plain in front of us. Frogs called madly back and forth, and the flowers were lovely! Some were tall and blue and looked somewhat like a loosely packed clover of lavender color. Others were brilliant yellow pom-poms, and others were like small, small blue stars. Still others were like the small white flowers my bridesmaids carried. And the river, we found out, flows from Lake Balagash to the north, through the Tien Shan mountains and into China. An amazing thought. Tonight was Daniel, the younger son's birthday. He is 15, and pretty precocious. He liked the hat we gave him, and we sat and played games with him and Marina, Larissa's 11-year old niece from Almaty. School is out so she is staying here a few days with us. And for now, there is not much other news. In two weeks, I think, is Kazak national day, at which a small group of us will perform a Kazak dance. Dance class has been fun, even without Richard. However, my partner Cap, a sweet guy from Oklahoma, is perhaps the worst dancer I have ever encountered. The other guy I get paired with, due to my height, is Scott Lehman from Baraboo. Fancy that, eh? We even know some of the same people, and of course, the same places and roads. I'm off to bed now. The morning comes much too fast for me. Did I tell you it doesn't get dark here until 11 pm and that by 7:30 am the sun is high and blazing, Amazing. Write soon and tell me how you are and what is happening. I miss you, Cloudy cat, and the family very much. Love always, Joan