Joined the Peace Corps. BRB.

Some weird wall in Osh City.

And a picture of one of my 11th grade classes.

Just for you, Jung.

Dec 18: Fifty

I sold my guitar yesterday. Guess I won’t sign up for lessons. Another volunteer wanted it real badly and so I let her have it. Not too big a deal though, the only instrument I know how to play is the radio anyway.

My dad is 50 years old today. I always tell him that means he hit the halfway mark in life, but who knows, I could be short-changing him. So congratulations, Dad, hope the next 50 are just as fun.

Dec19: Twenty Three

My parents’ 23rd anniversary is today. It’s ok to congratulate people for their birthdays, but isn’t is kind of strange for a child to congratulate his parents for their anniversary. Almost in a “Thanks for having me” sense in my opinion. But yeah, much appreciated.

New Year’s is a huge holiday here, but Christmas is almost unheard in Kyrgyzstan. I tried to teach my kids about Christmas today, most of them insisting that Christmas is just English for “New Year’s.” Classes ended up being pretty fun though because whenever I can’t get concepts across in English or Kyrgyz, I end up just drawing poorly on the board or basically playing charades until the kids understand. No wonder I come back every day exhausted.

If I were in the States, I imagine I’d be inundated with the Christmas spirit wherever I went. All the consumerism that people decry is actually something I miss these days. In Kyrgyzstan there are no wreaths, houses decorated with lights, Santas ringing Salvation Army bells, people humming Christmas songs, or the frantic feeling to rush and buy last minute gifts. It’s six days till Christmas, but I can’t tell unless I check my calendar. Everyone tells me that the hardest times during my Peace Corps service will be when I first arrive, my first Christmas, and the 1 year mark.

Right on schedule.

Dec 20: My obsession

There were times today when I considered coming home. Two years is long, perhaps longer than I was willing to sacrifice right now. The worst part was at lunch when I saw a Korean drama on TV dubbed over in Uzbek. Not that I’m desperately longing for Korean dramas, but I’m forgetting my Korean. It was a painful realization that my Korean language skills weren’t good enough for me to retain them while I continue to study Kyrgyz. To those whom I’ve spoken about my goals and interests, learning Korean fluently is of the utmost importance to me. I began to wonder if my time here would only serve to hinder that goal.

Then I realized that I didn’t come to Kyrgyzstan to jumpstart my career or learn Korean. There are so many things that, for lack of a more original phrase, drive me in life. A strong desire to get in touch with my Korean family and their culture is one of them. But another is to use my position as one more fortunate than others to help those less fortunate. That’s why I’m in Kyrgyzstan. Everything happens for a reason, I just have to figure out why God chose Kyrgyzstan of all places for me to be. I guess in a twisted way it’s a wild Where’s Waldo type search.

My school’s boys’ basketball team invited me to play today. Running up and down the court for a few hours relieved a lot of stress that had been building up on my mind for the past several weeks. The feeling when you make the perfect pass or an untouched drive to the basket, that small sense of accomplishment is what energizes me. For a few hours, I forgot about everything except for making the next play. Walking home I understood that I could be happy anywhere, it’s just up to me to make it happen.

Slowly my hobby, or perhaps my obsession, is becoming this thought process of breaking down my stresses and convincing myself that I’m above them.

I believe it’s called “ignorance.”

Dec 21: Good old Bing

No, Christmas isn’t celebrated on the 21st here in Central Asia, but it was Christmas today at Bekemirov School in Kurshab today. I see each of my classes twice a week, so today was the last day of the week that I’d see my 11th graders. I made a big construction paper tree, brought in the laptop to listen to Christmas tunes, and we made Christmas ornaments to hang on the tree. It was a good time for the most part, but I’ll never bring my laptop to school again. The kids were overly fascinated by it and just wanted to listen to rap music. It’s freaking Christmas season, kids! Why would you want to listen to Snoop Dogg over Bing Crosby these days?

Would it be strange if I said I spent a few hours today thinking about how businesses start up and prosper by providing a service to the masses at a cost? I just ended up sitting down and daydreaming about what people need and want, but being someone who really doesn’t need or want much, it was difficult to imagine what people would want to buy. Sometimes I run into people with such grandiose plans of market domination through the corporate stairwell that I just step back and say “Wow, go get ‘em.” There was an awesome toast-sandwich place that I loved in Korea next to Sogang University. That’s the kind of thing I’d need or want on a daily basis. A ham, cheese, egg, toast sandwich. And it was only around two bucks! The cost of the whole operation couldn’t have been too much, just a couple of flat top stove burners, ingredients, and a couple of middle-aged women to flip the toast, but it’s profits must have been awesome. Right next to the university, the little shop attracted busy students in-between classes, tons of girls eager to eat light (there were veggie ones available), and people like me who would grab two or three at a time. It was perfect.

Someday I’ll build my own toast-sandwich shop. Just for fun.

Dec 22: Pumpkin mantuh

(EDIT)

Dec 23: Reading

Aside from daydreaming and making bad jokes, I do a lot reading here in Kyrgyzstan. Since I don’t really understand the TV programming here, and because most of it sucks, I have a lot of free time when I get back from class. So I read. The amount of books that each volunteer owns is staggering, we could make a fairly large library with the number of books circulating among us. Best of all, in the great volunteer spirit, everyone shares their books with each other.

I’m reading a book called War Trash by Ha Jin right now. The book is amazing so far on two fronts. First off, I am a huge sucker for anything pertaining to Korea or China in literature, fiction, or history and since the book is about Chinese POWs during the Korean War, it fits pretty squarely in my “highly interested” spectrum. Second, the way the guy writes the book would drive me nuts if I were the author. He writes from a first-person perspective of a Chinese POW on Koje Island, but that’s not the strange part. The author prefaces the book with an intro by his main character during his seventies when he is thinking about writing his story. Thereafter follows the novel. Ok, maybe it’s not so strange, but every chapter I read, the only thing on my mind is not which one of Yu Yuan’s (the main character) comrades will die next or which unique character he’ll meet next, but how Ha Jin is keeping track of what’s what since it’s not really his own story, but he’s writing it as his own. Is he the seventy year old grandfather Yu Yuan, the twenty-three year old POW Yu Yuan, or the Boston University professor Ha Jin? It’s confusing and almost too distracting for me to enjoy the book itself. It’ll end up being what I remember about the book in a few months, not the story itself.

This is why reading is so difficult.

I made a new friend.

He doesn't hold up his end of the conversation.

Dec 11: So I’m back

Back from my pre-working life, post-PST hiatus down in Osh City. I can’t even call it a hiatus, I was only gone two days really, but now I’ve got all the party out of my system and I’m ready to get to work. I’m not sure whether that’s a promising statement for my school, students, or myself.

Raabia’s birthday was yesterday so we celebrated at the same time as we said goodbye to K11 Carol down south in Osh. It’s always interesting to see the look of completion on the faces of the K11s who have finished their two year service and are looking forward to hot dogs, hamburgers, and fish tacos. At least that’s what I’ll be thinking of when the K15s roll into town. Like any other Peace Corps gathering, it was spent with lots of volunteers, loud music, weird food, and dancing at a club. Fun times all around, I’m so lucky to be down south with so many ridiculously fun people.

Something changed while I was gone: I got a host dad. I should clarify. I’ve always had a host dad, but he works down south, on the Kyrgyzstan-Tajikistan border, as a customs officer so he comes home for stints of 10 days at a time. First impressions are always a big deal no matter how much people may scoff at the idea, and he certainly made one. Honking the horn of his white dune-buggy type car, my host dad hopped out of the vehicle wearing a camouflage jacket and nearly broke my hand with his grip. I liked him right away. We navigated the basic who’s, what’s, where’s, and why’s, but as with most Kyrgyz people, he thinks I’m a giant and insists I live in Washington D.C. I was too tired to argue my Gilliganthian status or the geography of the United States, but I did let him know that I had my first classes tomorrow morning so I couldn’t give him my autobiography at the moment.

Autobiographies are the worst idea ever too. What’s the point of having an autobiography published when you aren’t dead yet? That’s like releasing a movie without the last 30 minutes. If I ever write an autobiography, it will be published posthumously and it’s last sentence will read: “Now you know.”

How’s that for a tangent?

Dec 12: Teaching, learning

I survived my first day of classes. I had five classes today, my heaviest load in the week, so at least I get a minor break for the rest of the week. First lessons are always the worst because it’s a lot of repetition that grows old quickly. I was starting to drone “My name is Sean. I am 22 years old. I live in Seattle. My hobbies are basketball...” by the fifth class, but now that introductions are out of the way, I can actually teach ‘em up. Some kid came up to me after class and said “Sean, I know about the rap group 50 Cent.” I told him to rain his information on this new music group to me later.

Not to complain, but I’m absolutely exhausted today. I can’t tell if I’m still recovering from the weekend or if it’s from the teaching, but I can barely move, it’s annoying. Or it could be that I just got done washing my laundry. It’s funny because laundry takes the same amount of time here that it does in the States, but here you are actually working the entire 2 hours, not just waiting for one load to finish. Definitely tough, but it’s another mark off my list of things I’ve never done before.

My fingers are pruny.

Dec 13: Twang

I bought a guitar today.

Guess I’ll sign up for lessons.

PS - Exactly 3 months since I left Seattle. The cliche would be that “time flies,” but I imagine it more like a rocket with which I am trying to keep pace. Or I could settle for the operative word:

“Whoa.”

Dec 14: The Black House

Vanessa’s birthday was yesterday so I headed over to her house for dinner with her family since I’m her site mate. Usually dinners with K12s and their families end up being really fast Kyrgyz which I have a hard time keeping up with, but last night’s conversation was different because Vanessa helped translate some really strange parts. Supposedly her host mom and my host mom are part of a 12 woman group in the village called the Black House. Creepy huh? Supposedly the group meets twice a month, each time paying 1000 som as a fee. Each meeting, a different member gets the whole lot (so they get 11000 som not including their own; about $300 USD, a HUGE amount of money for these people). Having the bulk sum of money allows the person to have flexibility in making larger purchases such as animals or vehicles. Clever, clever. I feel like my host mom is part of the Kurshab mafia or something.

I talk a lot about the sun, moon, and stars on this blog. Probably since I’m outside a lot, I just notice them more than I did back in the States. Right now the sun is an extremely bright orange-red color, almost like a dark neon orange. The slight haze in the sky has dulled the sun’s edges so it looks like a perfect circle in the sky. On the opposite horizon, a full moon is rising, slightly smaller than the sun, but already burning bright white. Placed on the faint, light blue sky, it’s almost eerie seeing these two huge globes in the air. If I were the poetic type, I might say it feels like I’m on a different world.

But I’m in Kyrgyzstan.

Dec 15: Erin

I gave out English names to my students today. The kids’ requests for names were pretty hilarious, names like Jackie (Chan), Mike (Tyson), Britney (Spears), Arnold (Schwarzenegger), Nicholas (Cage), Bruce (Lee), Julia (Roberts), Shakira, and Charlie (Chaplin!) were popular choices. My favorite choice in names came from my host sister in one of my 9th grade classes.

She chose Erin.

PS - Oh man. Oh man. My family just gave me a present: The Unauthorized Biography of Arnold Schwarzenegger by Wendy Leigh. Holy crap.

The title change is more than an aesthetic change. Now that the first part of Peace Corps, PST, is finished, the blog is now about my time down south. Speaking of the blog, on the blog, I’ve been getting lots of weird, fun emails lately from random people who read...the blog. Weird to imagine that people read this, fun for me to reply to them. One stands out because it asked why I was so optimistic in my entries. She must have missed the dozens of posts where I was Mt. Vesuvius with frustration. It’s hard to explain, I guess I could say that my mom always told me to think positively and that an optimistic mind is an open one, but since I just finished a book (Life of Pi by Yann Martel; not bad, not great), I’ll reply with a quote:

“To choose doubt as a philosophy in life is akin to choosing immobility as a measure of transportation.”

There you have it. Don’t I sound clever?

Have some pics:

Dec 05: Osh City

I visited the city of Osh today for the first time. It’s actually a much nicer city than Bishkek and is very easy to walk around and access the bazaar, internet cafés, and restaurants. In the center of Osh is a tall, solitary mountain which has a path winding up to a lookout point. I wanted to climb the mountain, but I had more important things to do. I bought lots of cool things for you guys at the bazaar!

Aside from the knickknacks I gathered for gifts, I also bought a pea coat to blend in a little better here. Wearing my bright red Helly Hansen jacket around town definitely keeps me warm, but if I jogged a little, people might confuse me for a fire truck. Oh wait, they don’t have fire trucks in this country. Maybe just a huge apple bobbing down the street then.

Moreso than hitting the market and burning some cash, it was a ton of fun to get out and do things without being hounded by our LCFs or worrying about missing some goofy session on procedures, etc. Tomorrow I’ll head to school to observe classes and begin a week-long assessment of my students’ levels. I hope they can say more than “Hello. WHATISYONAME?” Although, I might have to teach them to ask one’s name that way just to amuse myself. I’d add “FOO” to the end of it though. Anyway, class will definitely be fun times tomorrow. I’ll wear my new jacket and look professional while I daydream in the back.

I’ve got to admit that I do a good job of entertaining myself.

Dec 06: Taxis

I didn’t ride a taxi today, but I felt like talking about them anyway. Taxis are not “taxis” here in Kyrgyzstan, but just random vehicles on the road. If you own a car, you are a part-time taxi driver. Nobody drives a car here with only themselves or one passenger, each car is filled with five or six people, each paying a certain fee to the driver. If a car isn’t filled when it departs from a village, it will pick up people along the way to its destination until the vehicle is full. It’s almost like an amalgamation of communist and capitalist ideas in one weird public transportation system.

Similarly, marshutkas here are definitely filled to the roof with people wherever they run. At the bus stops, drivers will hop out of their vehicles and call out their destinations to attract fares, “Bishkek, Bishkek! Express Bishkek!” It makes me think the vehicles are privately owned so they must haul in as many fares as they can in order to profit the best. At least it makes it simple to find a ride around town.

I visited my school today and observed some classes. The levels of the kids’ English language was my main reason for going, but I got distracted (surprise!) partway through class by one of the students. In a class full of black hair, brown-eyed, Asian-looking kids, there was one girl with bright green eyes and red hair. Normally she’d look out of place, but awhile back I heard that native Kyrgyz people were actually green eyed and red haired people. Only after mixing with the Mongols, the majority of Kyrgyz people began to look more Asian. So these days only the pureblood Kyrgyz people retain the physical traits of their ancestors, but every once in awhile, there will be a kid with light green eyes that makes you do a double take. It makes me wonder if the huge fad here in country to dye your hair red is just a fashion statement or a calling back to their traditional roots. Weird huh?

Dec 08: Good day

Today was a good day. I didn’t have school, so I got to sleep in, but that’s just minor. I wrote out my lesson plans (sure to be revised and destroyed soon enough) for the next two weeks; again, minor. I even found the secret way into our family’s compound, but that’s insignificant. Today, my parents called me.

It’s amazing how living abroad can feel so similar, and at the same time, so different from going to college away from your parents. Like college, I get caught up in events here so much that sometimes I forget that my parents are far away. Other days, I miss them to a point that it’s painful. Hearing their voices and laughter is an energy booster unlike any other. I am eternally grateful for all my parents have done, given, and sacrificed for me. Physicality aside, I would not be who I am today without their support and encouragement. Even now, when I’m halfway around the world, they are unknowingly helping me by providing a stable, grounding force in my life. It’s as if every time I feel myself slip and fall, I can feel two sets of hands on my back, holding me up, pushing me forward.

I’ll be the first one to say I’ve been blessed in life with a good family, health, and curiosity. I always wonder if that puts an onus of responsibility of me to do things for those less fortunate, but I’m not sure how yet. I heard that “Life asks of you what it thinks you can handle” and it’s an exciting proposition. Ask away, I’m listening.
My host mother just brought me a fresh loaf of bread and teapot of green tea. I’ve either made my point clearly or I’m finally changing my “easily amused” nature into one of taking joy in minor details every day.

Nov 30: Last night

Tonight is our last night in Kegeti. The idea of closure is one that is always hard to wrap my mind around. I can only imagine the numerous feelings that I’ll experience at our COS (close of service) meeting in 2 years.

Much of my stuff is waiting to be picked up by buses in Tokmok, so my room sits barren except for the suit I’ll wear tomorrow and my laptop. When I walked in, I just stood and stared for a little. I can still remember my first impression of the room when I walked in two and a half months ago. Basically it boiled down to “What’s that carpet doing on the wall?” Oddly enough, the flowers I bought for my host mom are still sitting on my desk, dried up and long dead, but still standing straight. I fear that I cannot say that I’ve left the place better than it was when I arrived though. This chair broke weeks ago when I ran over it in the middle of the night.

Soon I’ll have dinner with my host family one last time and express my thanks in broken Kyrgyz. Until then, I’ll just listen to the Beatles (I got a cd with all their albums on one disc) and think of how to get this bad taste out of my mouth.

We just had “fried candy bars” over at Tasiana’s.

Dec 02: Kurshab, the place to be

Yesterday I was sworn in as an official Peace Corps volunteer for Kyrgyzstan. I guess that makes me legit now and we can finally drop the ‘trainee’ moniker and talk fondly of when we were in PST so long ago. Basically we just get a superiority complex installed with the fancy title.

We celebrated the day’s events in a nice ceremony followed by a fancy-pants reception at the US Ambassador’s house. The new volunteers mingled with each other, Embassy employees, PC staff, and the Ambassador herself, but I camped myself in front of the stairs with a few other eager volunteers. Plates of small hamburgers, pizzas, and sandwiches flowed from the downstairs kitchen and we were determined to let none pass before allowing ourselves a taste. Someone bet me a dollar to lick the Doritos plate too so obviously we weren’t all high class yet. I’m now a dollar richer.

Today was going to be a long day of travel to our permanent sites, so we all just crashed early and relaxed for the evening. ...haha. Did you know that there are bowling alleys in Kyrgyzstan? I didn’t. Did you know that there are dance clubs in Kyrgyzstan? I didn’t. I do now. The bowling was really expensive, but the club was free for us (a couple of the younger members of the PST staff escorted us in) and we danced till our legs burned. I got about 2 hours of sleep, but like everything else here so far: it was worth it.

Now I’m back here in Kurshab with my overly attached counterpart, new family, and new responsibilities. Teaching will be a difficult task, I can’t joke about it. Don’t worry yet, fans. I’ve got a few weird games, fun activities, and odd ideas milling about in my head so we won’t be wont for energy.

And I’ve got Dora the Explorer DVDs as backup.

Dec 03: Uzgen

In my first action as a volunteer, I visited the Uzgen bazaar today. I’ve been to Uzgen before, but this time it was different because I wasn’t led around by a K12 who knew the area well. Instead I dug around on my own for a little before Rachel met me for lunch and more bazaar action. The difference between the north and south parts of Kyrgyzstan is more defined in Uzgen than any other city in the country. At nearly 90% Uzbek, Uzgen has a distinct Muslim influence that makes it completely different and wholly refreshing from the north. I love seeing the Babylon-esque gates leading into the bazaar with the Cyrillic text written in a near-Arabic font. Definitely fun.

I sing the praises of the south a lot, and with good reason, but the best part is not the food, weather (so much warmer than the north, thank goodness), or the culture. The volunteers around me are definitely the creme de la creme in my opinion. Shall I boast of the Uzgen rayon as well? I shall! With Liz, Rachel, Dan, and Vanessa in the Uzgen rayon, I definitely lucked out with my specific area as well. On the ride down yesterday, Rachel and I spoke of how it is difficult to find someone that you connect well with enough to speak honestly and without any reservations and amazingly, I feel a certain calm or relaxation when I speak with any of these people so I am, sorry Lou, the luckiest guy around.

Dinner tonight was at my counterpart’s home with Dan, Vanessa, and several local teachers. Dan calls these women the “revolutionaries” of the south because they are working women who voice their ideas and push for reform in a conservative country, and especially conservative region. Hearing them speak about others in such a light was amusing to me because everyone that I speak with in Bishkek (ie Peace Corps staff) speaks of Dan and Vanessa as the movers-and-shakers in the Kyrgyzstan Peace Corps program. Perhaps more than any other volunteers, they have found a perfect balance between community integration, English teaching, and working as ambassadors from the USA. I’ll admit that when I received my site placement, one concern of mine was that being near them might be intimidating, almost terrifying from a newcomer’s standpoint. I have three smiles. My happy smile. My so-freaking-excited-I-can’t-hold-back smile. And my I’m-nervous-but-not-gonna-let-you-know smile. #3 definitely gets a workout around Dan and Vanessa, but don’t tell them. I live for competition and can’t wait to crush my own insecurities of the moment. I wouldn’t be satisfied being around some lame, unmotivated volunteers. It’s just that the bar is set higher than I would’ve expected.

After several shots of vodka, one teacher pointed at me and told me that I had been placed in a position to succeed with two of the best volunteers in the country (Dan and Vanessa) nearby, an enthusiastic counterpart, and a high-ranked school. She then told me that all that was left was for me to perform and asked if I was up for it. My reply was obvious: “Al-bet-te!”

“Of course!”