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.
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