It’s not every day you can check something off your life list. Climb Devil’s Tower, run a marathon, go to New Zealand, see Dima Bilan in concert… they all seem so out of reach.
BUT WAIT! Dima Bilan, you say? THE Dima Bilan, of glorious Eurovision Awards fame? (If you don’t know what the Eurovision awards are you have some serious Googling to do) The Russian King of Pop? The man who made the mullet into the glorious fashion statement we all know and love? The man who is so cool that Evgeni Plushenko chose to appear in his music video, doing quadruple axels along to the schmaltzy pop tune?
Yes, my friends, the Dima Bilan. Who just happened to be in Almaty giving a FREE concert in one of the central squares on a gorgeous summer night between rain storms. That’s right, I have placed a big check mark next to the most ridiculous point on my doesn’t-really-exist life-list. And I also officially have one more reason to love Astana Day/the President’s Birthday. The celebration has continued all week!
I wish I could say that I am too cool for Bilan, and that I only went to the concert because it was there and my friends were going. But really, I was the one that made my friends go… and yes, I may have squealed just a little bit when I saw him walking to the stage. Many people love to hate Dima Bilan, and to be honest I probably wouldn’t really have much to say to him in person besides, “Who chooses your clothing?!?” I have never owned any of Bilan’s music, mostly because the lyrics in the English versions are so painful, see for example: “Believe! As long as I’m breathing, there is not a limit to what I can do!”
However, by easily quoting the above lyric I have revealed the truth. I have been in enough buses in enough countries and watched enough music-TV in post-Soviet countries* to know a lot of Bilan songs. On Saturday night at the concert, I was singing along. A lot. And dancing along with the grooves of the back-up dancers and Bilan himself. Ridiculous. It was a good show, I think even Bilan-haters would admit that. Plenty of lights and smoke and streamers and large screen projections of the action and spurts of flames coming from the stage.
Lots of people turned out for the free show, but it’s still Kazakhstan and there still aren’t that many people in the country, so there was plenty of space for everyone. During the opening (local) acts there were more police/security officers than spectators. Among those in the crowd were young Russians, old Kazakhs, and, inexplicably, a man with a very large live boa constrictor around his neck. He tried to insist that I really wanted to pet the snake. I declined. We tried to imagine what his conversation was like with the police officers who were checking bags at the entrance to the concert (“No, officers, no weapons or alcohol. Oh, the huge snake? She’s no big deal, really").
At any rate, having now outed myself as the Dima Bilan freak that I apparently, I will leave you to your Googling. I am sad to report that the mullet has been replaced by an appropriately sleazy ponytail, complete with pencil mustache and patchy beard. Bilan can still dance, and he can still sometimes sing/sometimes lip sync with the best of them.
*Funny moment, today Kimberly referred to the FSU (aka the Former Soviet Union), and I couldn’t understand how she knew my favorite frisbee cheer (aka F--- S--- Up). I should try to get my academic and athletic worlds sorted out one of these days…
Monday, July 12, 2010
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Blog fail
Had planned to post about the trip last weekend... but my free word trial ended so there goes that file for now. :( If you are on facebook, see pictures there.
Instead, if you really want a treat, check out http://www.kok-tobe.kz and look for the section on the Fast Coaster (there is an English translation that will rock your socks off). We rode it last weekend, and it was amazing. The English at the zoo was also quite fabulous.
Hugs!
Nora
Instead, if you really want a treat, check out http://www.kok-tobe.kz and look for the section on the Fast Coaster (there is an English translation that will rock your socks off). We rode it last weekend, and it was amazing. The English at the zoo was also quite fabulous.
Hugs!
Nora
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Bus 63
Bus 63 is my go-to bus in Almaty. The route takes me up to class everyday, and on the days after work when it is too late to walk, bus 63 takes me home again. It also goes past the Peace Corps office, which I’ve taken advantage of twice so far on this trip.
It’s not a particularly convenient way to travel. For the first couple of days I underestimated how long the trip would take; now I know to plan on a solid 45 minutes on the bus, about an hour door-to-door to class. When I first get on the bus, it is usually packed, standing room only. But after a few stops it empties out and I can snag a seat (though of course I am always ready to give up my seat to more deserving riders). Often we pause for a long while at the Green Bazaar, a major transit hub for the city. Sometimes as we approach this stop, the bus conductor will yell, “Ok, everyone off! There’s another 63 bus up ahead!” And everyone pours out of the bus at a frantic trot to switch vehicles. When this happens, everyone checks to make sure that they have their tickets in hand to avoid having to pay the 30-cent cost per ride again.
The Kazakhstan bus system is a complex universe. City buses, private buses, mini buses… each have their own conventions. Bus 63 is a well-run route. The drivers and the conductors, who wander the bus collecting money and giving out tickets, work together to regulate the bus, sometimes yelling back and forth to coordinate door openings and length of pauses at stops. Monitors stand at specific stops along the route noting the times that buses come and go. They help space out the flow of buses on the route.
I would like to know more about the schedules that the drivers and conductors keep. I’ve had the same conductor almost every morning this week, a blond Russian woman about my age who smokes pink-tipped cigarettes during the long stop at the Green Bazaar. At least once she has been the one to initiate the bus switch, meaning she gets to go on break, but clearly her schedule is irregular, as she doesn’t get that break at the same time everyday… Today I switched on to her bus, and it was the same bus as yesterday (same interior decoration of half-dressed women and football pennants) but I swear it was a different driver…
A couple days ago I ran for bus 63 at after a delightful dinner of shashlyk, plov, and beer. I’d gotten a ride as far as Furmanova and could see the bus trundling along. I dashed down the hill and into the bus just as it began pulling away. We started up and then began barely creeping down the road. One woman, with a bunch of grocery bags on the seat next to her, eventually put her foot down. “Hey,” she yelled, “Are we going to go or not? Some of us are trying to get home here!”
The conductor, a young Kazakh guy who is becoming familiar, was sitting up in front with the driver. “Sorry,” he called back, “There are just some really beautiful girls walking by…”
The whole bus smiled, though we tried to hide it from each other because no one smiles on a bus in Kazakhstan. Even the grumpy woman smiled. The conductor came back and apologized to her in person, and the driver picked up the pace.
It was a nice moment, and as the ride continued I began to suspect that our young conductor had probably had a drink or two on his last break. He was certainly not as diligent in his calling out of stops as he usually is, not to mention he seemed to have a bit of trouble navigating the floor of the bus.
Ready, ready, ready for a long weekend. 4 days off, with two holidays! Working on plans for travel or hiking. In classic KZ style we have not at all planned in advance.
It’s not a particularly convenient way to travel. For the first couple of days I underestimated how long the trip would take; now I know to plan on a solid 45 minutes on the bus, about an hour door-to-door to class. When I first get on the bus, it is usually packed, standing room only. But after a few stops it empties out and I can snag a seat (though of course I am always ready to give up my seat to more deserving riders). Often we pause for a long while at the Green Bazaar, a major transit hub for the city. Sometimes as we approach this stop, the bus conductor will yell, “Ok, everyone off! There’s another 63 bus up ahead!” And everyone pours out of the bus at a frantic trot to switch vehicles. When this happens, everyone checks to make sure that they have their tickets in hand to avoid having to pay the 30-cent cost per ride again.
The Kazakhstan bus system is a complex universe. City buses, private buses, mini buses… each have their own conventions. Bus 63 is a well-run route. The drivers and the conductors, who wander the bus collecting money and giving out tickets, work together to regulate the bus, sometimes yelling back and forth to coordinate door openings and length of pauses at stops. Monitors stand at specific stops along the route noting the times that buses come and go. They help space out the flow of buses on the route.
I would like to know more about the schedules that the drivers and conductors keep. I’ve had the same conductor almost every morning this week, a blond Russian woman about my age who smokes pink-tipped cigarettes during the long stop at the Green Bazaar. At least once she has been the one to initiate the bus switch, meaning she gets to go on break, but clearly her schedule is irregular, as she doesn’t get that break at the same time everyday… Today I switched on to her bus, and it was the same bus as yesterday (same interior decoration of half-dressed women and football pennants) but I swear it was a different driver…
A couple days ago I ran for bus 63 at after a delightful dinner of shashlyk, plov, and beer. I’d gotten a ride as far as Furmanova and could see the bus trundling along. I dashed down the hill and into the bus just as it began pulling away. We started up and then began barely creeping down the road. One woman, with a bunch of grocery bags on the seat next to her, eventually put her foot down. “Hey,” she yelled, “Are we going to go or not? Some of us are trying to get home here!”
The conductor, a young Kazakh guy who is becoming familiar, was sitting up in front with the driver. “Sorry,” he called back, “There are just some really beautiful girls walking by…”
The whole bus smiled, though we tried to hide it from each other because no one smiles on a bus in Kazakhstan. Even the grumpy woman smiled. The conductor came back and apologized to her in person, and the driver picked up the pace.
It was a nice moment, and as the ride continued I began to suspect that our young conductor had probably had a drink or two on his last break. He was certainly not as diligent in his calling out of stops as he usually is, not to mention he seemed to have a bit of trouble navigating the floor of the bus.
Ready, ready, ready for a long weekend. 4 days off, with two holidays! Working on plans for travel or hiking. In classic KZ style we have not at all planned in advance.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Week 2. Check.
Friday when I got home from class, via an ecotourism agency where we scoped out the possibilities for a mountain adventure next weekend, I was put straight to work. To be fair, I did walk into the kitchen bearing a bag of strawberries and asking if I could help. In short order I was slicing pickles and carrots and potatoes for soup. Host mother, host sister, sister’s friend, host brother: we all jostled for counter space and the stove. It was an amiable mess, with some moments of concern, such as when the oven door opened inches from my leg…
Hot oil, boiling soup, steaming oven. Good thing it was such a cool and beautiful day in Almaty. We’ve had a couple days of rain and cold (I’ve been vindicated for bringing along a few articles of warm clothing), so it was a joy just to walk home from class in the sun. Almaty is oriented with the mountains as compass rose. The whole city is on a slant. Class is “up” from where I live, so I take the bus. Coming home is all “down,” which makes for a pleasant walk through the heart of the city.
Of course, living on a mountain slope has its disadvantages. On Tuesday I was caught out on a walk when it started to pour. There have been a couple of thunderstorms so far, but this was a riot of rain that quickly turned into a flash flood. Rain in the city means it’s been raining for a while up above, and all that water has to go somewhere. Most of it seemed to end up in my socks.
Fortunately enough, the place I was going for an interview was not deterred when I showed up soaking at their door. From here on in, I’ll be spending a few hours a week with the Eurasia Foundation of Central Asia. There are quite a few interns on board this summer and currently we are all housed on the fourth floor of the building around a conference table. We are basically a secretary corps; my current task involves translating cross-tabulated data sets (don’t tell my Kazakh teacher that most of it is translation from Russian to English…). I am enjoying the chance to see how the organization works, and also the chance to shake up my schedule a bit!
Kazakh is difficult, but it is rewarding to be starting to recognize new words. Watching television is no longer quite such a mystery; I’ve even glimpsed a Turkish soap opera dubbed into Kazakh, which was my favorite way to learn Russian, so maybe I should re-develop my addiction. Speaking Kazakh in Kazakhstan is still a magical key. Yeah, people will stare at you like you are even more crazy than usual, but it’s fun to watch the reactions when they match your face to your words. I like to think I brighten the day of the two young people working in the samsa stand near the university when I make it to the front of the line and order my hot pastry puff filled with salty cheese. Russian is still far and away the lingua franca, but there is more Kazakh on the streets than I remember from two years ago.
Did you know that just last week in Ankara, Turkey they unveiled a new statue of none other than Our President? Whose birthday is on July 6, which just happens to be a national holiday (ok, so technically it‘s a holiday for Astana…)? Who was referred to in a poem in the state newspaper as “Ata-Kazakh”?
Really, I have no comment, just wanted to frame some rhetorical questions.
Also, for those who are concerned, we are keeping our eyes on Kyrgyzstan, though there hasn’t been too much in the local press about the on-going situation in the south. Osh and Jalalabad are both very far from here. I met an fellow ex-pat last weekend who drove through the region sort of accidentally (he had been out of contact for a few days before driving from Tajikistan north to Almaty). His report involved being shot at while driving around a road block; I’m sad to say this is probably the least harrowing of the stories coming out of the area. Let’s all just keep hoping for peace, and maybe for some answers.
My homework this weekend involved writing a 5-page paper in Kazakh. The theme was Human Relations. Somehow the length was both too short and far, far too long, especially after I spent two evenings in a row at Kazakh theaters.
Hot oil, boiling soup, steaming oven. Good thing it was such a cool and beautiful day in Almaty. We’ve had a couple days of rain and cold (I’ve been vindicated for bringing along a few articles of warm clothing), so it was a joy just to walk home from class in the sun. Almaty is oriented with the mountains as compass rose. The whole city is on a slant. Class is “up” from where I live, so I take the bus. Coming home is all “down,” which makes for a pleasant walk through the heart of the city.
Of course, living on a mountain slope has its disadvantages. On Tuesday I was caught out on a walk when it started to pour. There have been a couple of thunderstorms so far, but this was a riot of rain that quickly turned into a flash flood. Rain in the city means it’s been raining for a while up above, and all that water has to go somewhere. Most of it seemed to end up in my socks.
Fortunately enough, the place I was going for an interview was not deterred when I showed up soaking at their door. From here on in, I’ll be spending a few hours a week with the Eurasia Foundation of Central Asia. There are quite a few interns on board this summer and currently we are all housed on the fourth floor of the building around a conference table. We are basically a secretary corps; my current task involves translating cross-tabulated data sets (don’t tell my Kazakh teacher that most of it is translation from Russian to English…). I am enjoying the chance to see how the organization works, and also the chance to shake up my schedule a bit!
Kazakh is difficult, but it is rewarding to be starting to recognize new words. Watching television is no longer quite such a mystery; I’ve even glimpsed a Turkish soap opera dubbed into Kazakh, which was my favorite way to learn Russian, so maybe I should re-develop my addiction. Speaking Kazakh in Kazakhstan is still a magical key. Yeah, people will stare at you like you are even more crazy than usual, but it’s fun to watch the reactions when they match your face to your words. I like to think I brighten the day of the two young people working in the samsa stand near the university when I make it to the front of the line and order my hot pastry puff filled with salty cheese. Russian is still far and away the lingua franca, but there is more Kazakh on the streets than I remember from two years ago.
Did you know that just last week in Ankara, Turkey they unveiled a new statue of none other than Our President? Whose birthday is on July 6, which just happens to be a national holiday (ok, so technically it‘s a holiday for Astana…)? Who was referred to in a poem in the state newspaper as “Ata-Kazakh”?
Really, I have no comment, just wanted to frame some rhetorical questions.
Also, for those who are concerned, we are keeping our eyes on Kyrgyzstan, though there hasn’t been too much in the local press about the on-going situation in the south. Osh and Jalalabad are both very far from here. I met an fellow ex-pat last weekend who drove through the region sort of accidentally (he had been out of contact for a few days before driving from Tajikistan north to Almaty). His report involved being shot at while driving around a road block; I’m sad to say this is probably the least harrowing of the stories coming out of the area. Let’s all just keep hoping for peace, and maybe for some answers.
My homework this weekend involved writing a 5-page paper in Kazakh. The theme was Human Relations. Somehow the length was both too short and far, far too long, especially after I spent two evenings in a row at Kazakh theaters.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Week 1
This past week, after three days of the Kazakh language reminding me that every word is a tongue twister, I met up with some current Peace Corps volunteers. They are a part of the group that I worked with during training, way back in the fall of 2008. I remember them in their worst possible moments (just getting off the plane, during their first round of vaccines from doctors with Russian accents, struggling with their experiences in front of Kazakhstani classrooms); so it is wonderful to see them accomplished and feeling comfortable in this country. Their experiences have been very different from mine, yet I understand how they feel right now with just a few months left of service. Ready to go home!
They had plenty of gossip to pass along and also plenty of recommendations: a new Mexican-American restaurant, couches to surf around the country, and the marine-hosted Fourth of July party in Astana. It made me smile -- I remember well how it felt to have Almaty (and the Peace Corps office lounge) as a haven. How astonishing and wonderful it was to find carrot cake or a real pizza.
I tried to explain that, really, I have just come from America. That I’d lived another couple lives between my last time in Kazakhstan and now. That two weeks ago I was at the Ultimate Frisbee nationals tournament and spent an hour eating bratwursts and riding carnival rides. That I’m only in Kazakhstan for a few precious weeks. And that all I really want to do is stuff my face with laghman, manty, and cups of hot milky tea.
I am living with a great family near the center of Almaty. Our neighbor is the Esperanza café and discoteka. The family is helping me with my above food requests and has in general been very welcoming. Adizhan, the four-year-old youngest child, provides me with constant entertainment. I like to think we find each other equally fascinating. I’ve recently, at his mother’s urging, taught him to ask “May I?” with a good American accent before barging into my room. My first night here, blurry with jet lag and already falling asleep in bed, he came in to give me an impromptu goodnight hug. On the less fun side of things, I made him cry yesterday by telling him that he could not continue to play ping-pong against the wall (he lost the ball multiple times under the bed/couch). We do appear to be friends again today, though.
It is more than a bit strange to live in Almaty. For a recent Kazakh assignment, I produced the following sentence: “I think that the foreign students studying at KIMEP are not seeing the real Kazakhstan.” This is a bit harsh -- Almaty is certainly a part of Kazakhstan (though KIMEP, a regional powerhouse university, raises serious doubts), and city life in general is found throughout the country. But there is just something so unreal about being here. The traffic is crazy, but people still stop for pedestrians at marked crosswalks. Strangers on busses offer up their laps for the bags of standing passengers. The Mc Burger restaurant is near the bubble tea cart which is near restaurant with free wi-fi. Almaty is not an intimidating city, I don’t think. There is a sense of law and order, there are those looming mountains with their dramatic weather, there are fountains and many parks with rows and rows of blooming roses. I am enjoying having the time and motivation to wander.
One of my favorite things about Almaty is that no one ever seems to know where anything is located. I have already been asked for directions more times that I can count, and I was even able to help once. People ask what the next street is, where the bus stop is, how to get to the nearest pharmacy. Asking strangers is standard operating procedure, even for people who have lived in Almaty all their lives.
Then there are the wonderfully bizarre moments that I love. The bar, for example, with numerous prominently displayed signs reading “Smoking is strictly forbidden” that brings its patrons ash trays and makes no comment when cigarettes appear. The conductor who collects bus fare and passes out tickets while wearing a t-shirt that reads in large, friendly, pink letters: “I’m student. No money.”
I’m working on my collection of great t-shirts, by the way. Let me know if you have any to add. Personal favorites so far are: “I make boy cry” (so close!) and “party ou of bound” (and also out of space). There is a fabulous fake-newsprint plastic bag that I’ve seen a few people carrying on the street. I think it might be the Holy Grail of fake English, even better than the cartoon print shirts Jeff and I bought. Wish me luck finding one of my own the next time I go to the bazaar!
I’m spending plenty of time studying (3 hours of one-on-one Kazakh 5 days a week is motivation enough to do my homework), and I’m also catching up with friends. Saturday was my former co-teacher’s wedding, which came as a huge surprise when I called to tell her I was back in country. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get away or the tickets to make the trip to Zhelezinka this weekend. Last Friday was the circumcision ceremony for the Hooligan, who is now an astonishing 5 years old. Still not sure if I would have gone if I had found out in advance -- we had tickets to a concert at the grand Abai Ballet and Opera Theater, and the ceremony seems a bit, well, personal somehow. Might get a second chance if I’m still here in August, as Adizhan is approaching 5. At any rate, I’m hoping to get out to see my first host family soon.
That’s the news for now! Hugs to you all.
They had plenty of gossip to pass along and also plenty of recommendations: a new Mexican-American restaurant, couches to surf around the country, and the marine-hosted Fourth of July party in Astana. It made me smile -- I remember well how it felt to have Almaty (and the Peace Corps office lounge) as a haven. How astonishing and wonderful it was to find carrot cake or a real pizza.
I tried to explain that, really, I have just come from America. That I’d lived another couple lives between my last time in Kazakhstan and now. That two weeks ago I was at the Ultimate Frisbee nationals tournament and spent an hour eating bratwursts and riding carnival rides. That I’m only in Kazakhstan for a few precious weeks. And that all I really want to do is stuff my face with laghman, manty, and cups of hot milky tea.
I am living with a great family near the center of Almaty. Our neighbor is the Esperanza café and discoteka. The family is helping me with my above food requests and has in general been very welcoming. Adizhan, the four-year-old youngest child, provides me with constant entertainment. I like to think we find each other equally fascinating. I’ve recently, at his mother’s urging, taught him to ask “May I?” with a good American accent before barging into my room. My first night here, blurry with jet lag and already falling asleep in bed, he came in to give me an impromptu goodnight hug. On the less fun side of things, I made him cry yesterday by telling him that he could not continue to play ping-pong against the wall (he lost the ball multiple times under the bed/couch). We do appear to be friends again today, though.
It is more than a bit strange to live in Almaty. For a recent Kazakh assignment, I produced the following sentence: “I think that the foreign students studying at KIMEP are not seeing the real Kazakhstan.” This is a bit harsh -- Almaty is certainly a part of Kazakhstan (though KIMEP, a regional powerhouse university, raises serious doubts), and city life in general is found throughout the country. But there is just something so unreal about being here. The traffic is crazy, but people still stop for pedestrians at marked crosswalks. Strangers on busses offer up their laps for the bags of standing passengers. The Mc Burger restaurant is near the bubble tea cart which is near restaurant with free wi-fi. Almaty is not an intimidating city, I don’t think. There is a sense of law and order, there are those looming mountains with their dramatic weather, there are fountains and many parks with rows and rows of blooming roses. I am enjoying having the time and motivation to wander.
One of my favorite things about Almaty is that no one ever seems to know where anything is located. I have already been asked for directions more times that I can count, and I was even able to help once. People ask what the next street is, where the bus stop is, how to get to the nearest pharmacy. Asking strangers is standard operating procedure, even for people who have lived in Almaty all their lives.
Then there are the wonderfully bizarre moments that I love. The bar, for example, with numerous prominently displayed signs reading “Smoking is strictly forbidden” that brings its patrons ash trays and makes no comment when cigarettes appear. The conductor who collects bus fare and passes out tickets while wearing a t-shirt that reads in large, friendly, pink letters: “I’m student. No money.”
I’m working on my collection of great t-shirts, by the way. Let me know if you have any to add. Personal favorites so far are: “I make boy cry” (so close!) and “party ou of bound” (and also out of space). There is a fabulous fake-newsprint plastic bag that I’ve seen a few people carrying on the street. I think it might be the Holy Grail of fake English, even better than the cartoon print shirts Jeff and I bought. Wish me luck finding one of my own the next time I go to the bazaar!
I’m spending plenty of time studying (3 hours of one-on-one Kazakh 5 days a week is motivation enough to do my homework), and I’m also catching up with friends. Saturday was my former co-teacher’s wedding, which came as a huge surprise when I called to tell her I was back in country. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get away or the tickets to make the trip to Zhelezinka this weekend. Last Friday was the circumcision ceremony for the Hooligan, who is now an astonishing 5 years old. Still not sure if I would have gone if I had found out in advance -- we had tickets to a concert at the grand Abai Ballet and Opera Theater, and the ceremony seems a bit, well, personal somehow. Might get a second chance if I’m still here in August, as Adizhan is approaching 5. At any rate, I’m hoping to get out to see my first host family soon.
That’s the news for now! Hugs to you all.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Almaty!
Made it.
After two long, but not too terrible, flights we are here! Got in around midnight, made it through passport control, and then had that wonderful sinking sensation of,"Uh, where is my bag?"
Luckily, the rest of our small group (just five students, all graduate) got their luggage without any trouble. When I went up to make my complaint, the Lufthansa people had already been notified that my bag was left in Frankfurt. So it should be in either late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Not really a problem, not really unexpected, but here's hoping that everything arrives intact!
I'm staying with a family in a downtown apartment. It's pretty luxurious to be able to walk to a cafe with wi-fi. Our next door neighbor is a large diskoteka. Should make for some entertaining evenings. The family hosted a student last summer, which makes my job easier. They have some expectations already of what this experience will be like; so far their ideas line up with mine. I'm getting in some good Kazakh practice with their four-year-old boy. No huge communication mishaps yet, but I'm sure they are on the way.
Classes start Monday. I'll have three hours a day of one-on-one Kazakh language class. That sounds a bit intimidating to me, but I am looking forward to some serious language improvement.
No phone yet, but I am happy to report that the accordion player with the music stand and the pleasant voice is still sitting on the same door stoop that he was two years ago. And there are still doner kebabs and hot samasa on every corner.
Now the real test: can I wander back to my new home?
Hugs,
Nora
After two long, but not too terrible, flights we are here! Got in around midnight, made it through passport control, and then had that wonderful sinking sensation of,"Uh, where is my bag?"
Luckily, the rest of our small group (just five students, all graduate) got their luggage without any trouble. When I went up to make my complaint, the Lufthansa people had already been notified that my bag was left in Frankfurt. So it should be in either late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Not really a problem, not really unexpected, but here's hoping that everything arrives intact!
I'm staying with a family in a downtown apartment. It's pretty luxurious to be able to walk to a cafe with wi-fi. Our next door neighbor is a large diskoteka. Should make for some entertaining evenings. The family hosted a student last summer, which makes my job easier. They have some expectations already of what this experience will be like; so far their ideas line up with mine. I'm getting in some good Kazakh practice with their four-year-old boy. No huge communication mishaps yet, but I'm sure they are on the way.
Classes start Monday. I'll have three hours a day of one-on-one Kazakh language class. That sounds a bit intimidating to me, but I am looking forward to some serious language improvement.
No phone yet, but I am happy to report that the accordion player with the music stand and the pleasant voice is still sitting on the same door stoop that he was two years ago. And there are still doner kebabs and hot samasa on every corner.
Now the real test: can I wander back to my new home?
Hugs,
Nora
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Return to KZ
That's right, folks, I'm off to Kazakhstan again!
Rumor has it that blogspot is difficult to access in Kazakhstan (thank you, KZ government!), so posts may be sporadic or non-existent. "How will this be any different from your blog track record in the past?" you ask. Good question.
I'll be in Almaty, arguably the most lovely city in Kazakhstan, from early June to early August. The academic program is focused on Kazakh language acquisition -- I'm looking forward to being able to put together a complicated sentence again. I'm guessing there will also be ample opportunities to brush up on Russian.
My hope is to travel back to all my favorite haunts (Pavlodar, the village, Turkestan, etc.) and add some new ones after the program ends (maybe an Uzbekistan visa will come through this time... or Georgia!). So if you are in the area and itching to travel, let me know.
More as soon as I've got it...
Nora
PS -- Minneapolis and Madison kids, I'll be around for a bit between Bloomington and Almaty (May 22 - June 7 ish). Let's catch up!
PPS -- DC kids, I'll be around from June 7 - June 9 ish. Ditto the catching up bit.
Rumor has it that blogspot is difficult to access in Kazakhstan (thank you, KZ government!), so posts may be sporadic or non-existent. "How will this be any different from your blog track record in the past?" you ask. Good question.
I'll be in Almaty, arguably the most lovely city in Kazakhstan, from early June to early August. The academic program is focused on Kazakh language acquisition -- I'm looking forward to being able to put together a complicated sentence again. I'm guessing there will also be ample opportunities to brush up on Russian.
My hope is to travel back to all my favorite haunts (Pavlodar, the village, Turkestan, etc.) and add some new ones after the program ends (maybe an Uzbekistan visa will come through this time... or Georgia!). So if you are in the area and itching to travel, let me know.
More as soon as I've got it...
Nora
PS -- Minneapolis and Madison kids, I'll be around for a bit between Bloomington and Almaty (May 22 - June 7 ish). Let's catch up!
PPS -- DC kids, I'll be around from June 7 - June 9 ish. Ditto the catching up bit.
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