Joined the Peace Corps. BRB.

Too many pictures at once, so here's the second batch. Blog's on fire!

A tank in Kurshab! How cool is that? There’s also a huge cannon. They are both next to the only church in our village. Surprisingly, it’s never open. But at least it's well protected.

Eating ahsh by hand with my coworkers. Cheer up grannie, ahsh is good!

What? I don’t really have much to add to this one. But do know that I am here for a reason: to save Kyrgyzstan from British English. We’re learning American here, kids! Fo sho.

Dan and I (EDIT). ...Just kidding. We just finished visiting potential schools for new volunteers. For serious.

And that's the show, folks.

It’s been a busy few weeks so I haven’t been able to post any pictures lately, but I’m here to make up for it. Enjoy the pictures, they are just a small glimpse into my life these days. Who says I don’t love you guys?

Car on blocks. Well, car. I mean, van. No blocks. I pass this mini-van shell every day to and from school. It used to be on the left side of the home’s driveway, then suddenly one morning it was on the other. I just stared at it that morning for like 10 minutes. I was confused and late for class.

Check the time, I took this picture at 5AM. Stupid rodent kept waking me up with its incessant scratching. I fed his/her buddy to our cat earlier in the week. I tried to cover the hole with athletic tape, but it chewed through it already so I jammed a few pens in the hole. It will probably take it a few days to chew through them.

Party time at IST. This is after I tore Greg up in the arm-wrestling tournament. That’s right, boy! Too bad James and Nick nearly tore my arm off in the later rounds.

My youngest host brother, Suimok, and me. He’s doing that charming “Kyrgyz smile.” At least the shades are cool, right? Right?

This is the world’s laziest dog: Rex. Immediately after this picture was taken, I let go of him, and he fell down on his side and fell asleep in the sun. I think he must be narcoleptic. Or just dumb.

Dan and Vanessa about to bring down the house with their singing and violin playing. When I say “house” I mean “stadium.” And when I say “bring down” I mean “make Kyrgyz people applaud.” They won a prize even though the announcer forgot their names. He just screamed into the microphone “AMERICA! AMERICANS!!” We knew who he was talking about.

These are the male teachers at my school. My director (principal) is the guy with the styling leather blazer to my right. Fancy. I don’t know his name, I just call him “yo, Director.” He’s cool.

There were a ton of people at the Norooz celebration. I always like to zoom in on these pictures to see who was staring at me when I took it. Is that weird?

And a ton of kalpaks. They are all watching and betting on a wrestling competition. I wanted to get in and throw down, but remembered that I was in the Peace Corps. Whoops.

Dan, Vanessa, and me in a yurt eating some fried dough. It’s pretty good.

Mar 17: The Return

How many times have I used “I’m back” to jumpstart the blog again after long absences? Too many, but now that IST is history, I’M BACK. I didn’t get much sleep last week, so forgive me if those cheers I hear are really boos.

Having a blog is huge convenience for me because I can write each day’s events before I forget them forever. As my site mates can attest, I often visit them and then fall back to “Oh crap, I forgot what I was going to say!” But back to IST, where can I start? I had huge expectations for the week and it ended up being more insane than I ever could have imagined. Seminars from early morning to evening, then partying from dinner to early morning, it was a sleepless week. It never felt so good to not sleep though.

From seeing everyone again to the flip-cup tournament to the arm-wrestling championship to the firestorm finale Q&A with our bosses, it was non-stop for the past 7-8 days. I’ll skip the others and hop straight to the Q&A. Intended as a “I have a problem/question, you have an answer” session, it quickly exploded into a volunteers vs bosses showdown. An astute reader of K13 blogs will have noticed that posting frequency and tone of blogs have taken on a new form in the past several weeks. Our country director has to approve every entry so posts have become more sporadic and tempered in their nature (you’ll notice a lot of EDIT notes in this blog). A few bumps along the way and now blogs have become a hot topic here in Kyrgyzstan. Many volunteers have decided to drop their blogs in light of the new policies, but I figure I’ll keep writing until they ask me to stop. The jokes are just too bad!

Aside from the blog fiasco and the partying, we also went to a bunch of sessions set up by the staff. I expected PST redux, but the PC staff put together a wide variety of sessions that were helpful and interesting. My first three months here in country have been a daze, I sometimes look back and wonder what I have been doing for the past few months. IST was a good jolt to remind me to not settle into a repetitive, daily grind of school-sleep-school-sleep. There’s so much I can do while I’m here, I’m a bit ashamed I hadn’t realized this until now. Volunteering in this country isn’t easy, but at the same time, it’s open-ended and allows for us to create our own experience here for 2 years. I can’t let that experience be just teaching English. I want that youth center. I want a sports league. I want an English resource center. I want Man Camp. I want. I want. I want.

IST was fantastic though, the best week I’ve had in country, I was in shock when it ended. Riding in the marshutka to the airport, I felt pain like I haven’t felt in months. As always, those kind of feelings don’t last long here in Kyrgyzstan, there’s too much to do, to think about that you can’t linger long on the past.

But I’ll miss you guys.

Mar 18: Of mice

There are rats here. Large rats. And they are not shy like their American brethren, they just chill in the middle of our courtyard and in the streets. It’s freaking gross, I want to buy a BB gun and terrorize them a little.

While typing an email out to friends earlier today, I heard some plastic crinkling noises, but thought it was just plastic bags readjusting. After a few minutes, I was curious, so I checked out the sound to find a HUGE FREAKING RAT eating my precious snacks from America! Fat rodent punk! He ran off under a crack in my floorboards too, so I couldn’t grab him either. Wonderful.

The mood around my host household is considerably lighter when my host father is around. I’ve never seen him upset or down yet, it’s eerie almost. Today at dinner he seemed a little out of it, so I asked him what was up. More specifically I asked if he was unhappy with the job I did earlier in the day, spraying pesticides on his apple trees. He said that if I did a bad job at that, he’d get drunk, tear off his shirt Hulk Hogan-style, and then think about getting upset. What a guy.

Mar 19: And men

Scratch, scratch, scratch. The sound woke me up around 3AM this morning. Scratch, scratch, scratch. The rat was back. I grabbed my flashlight and began to close in on the source, grabbing all food items in sight and emptying their contents. The sounds stopped, so I imagined that the rodent had taken off for the night, satisfied with whatever it had stolen from me tonight. I was wrong, he was too greedy for that; the scratching resumed an hour later. I stood and stared at my miniature mountain of snacks, waiting for the pest to give away it’s location. It was inside my advent calendar that I was saving for this Christmas, the bastard! But the rodent was trapped, so I quickly tilted the ruined box of chocolates upside down, tossed it in a bucket, and covered it till morning when I would decide what punishment to hand down.

The first thing I did when I woke up was to take the calendar outside and call our fat cat. Tearing apart the cardboard, I smiled as I thought to myself “Fat rat, meet fat cat.” It was only a split second, but my eyes flashed open when I saw Kiss (the cat) leap forward and snap the falling rat in her jaws in a single movement. Kiss finished her snack and meowed at me for more, but I kicked her away. We were just allies by circumstance, that doesn’t mean I like the cat now.

Relaxing days for me used to be sitting in my living room, watching as many NBA, college football, or baseball games as I could. Maybe toss in a few hours at the gym to play ball and I was completely at ease. These days, relaxing means sitting outside in the sun, reading a book while I watch my laundry float in the breeze.

I’m either getting older or more boring.

Mar 20: Prelude again

I mentioned it before, but Kyrgyz people like to celebrate their holidays the day before the actual date. It’s actually a nice system because they end up getting 2 holidays for one date. Tomorrow is Norooz, but unlike the usual Kyrgyz celebrations (re: vodka toasts, tons of food, dancing, loud music, etc), Norooz celebrations are a little different. There’s a big, partially submerged basin in our schoolyard with a strange liquid inside it. There’s a fire that is constantly boiling the contents, along with 2 people ceaselessly stirring the soupy mixture. Supposedly they are supposed to cook the stuff for 24 hours before we eat it tomorrow and everyone takes their turns stirring and saying a quick prayer or wish. Kinda like a birthday cake. Without the candles and cake, I guess. Well, maybe not like a birthday cake.

Today’s dancing was outside, so that was pretty cool. The kids still insist on standing in circles according to class and dancing, but it was fun to be out in the night air. Definitely a benefit of the South. Tomorrow we will all go to a village meeting where there will be games and a concert. I heard Dan is supposed to sing a song in Kyrgyz too. Great, just what he needs, another star on his legend here haha.

I feel awful for the kid who gets placed in Shagym after Dan. I’m going to have to visit him/her several times a week just to boost their self-esteem. It’s terrifying, even I might have been crushed under the legacy Dan leaves if I had been placed there. What can you say though? Super volunteer.

Mar 21: A Kyrgyz day

To describe all the events of today would be nearly impossible. But I’ll try. It was Norooz, so the entire village (along with Shagym) went to our soccer field for a huge celebration of songs, skits, and food. Dan and Vanessa’s performance earned them first place in the talent contest, and with their victory, and just us being American, we were front-and-center most of the day for pictures. I joked around at first that we should have set up a booth to take photos with everyone, but by the end of the day, it wasn’t much of a joke. One part of being a volunteer is that you lose all anonymity in your life, everyone wants a piece of you, wants to speak to you, to hear your voice. It’s flattering. It’s exhausting. It’s fun.

What am I doing? I forgot to mention Attack of the Rats Part 2! I heard the scratching again this morning around 5AM and immediately began throwing stuff around my room, searching for the mouse hole. I eventually found it and out popped the rat (well, ok, more like a mouse)! I snapped a quick picture (see above), then stuffed the hole with toilet paper and taped it over with athletic tape. He’ll break through sooner or later, but not until I figure out a way to seal the hole forever. I refer to them as Mickey and Minnie. RIP Mickey, you’re next Minnie.

We topped off the day eating ahsh at my school and dancing for a few hours. With Dan wowing the crowd with an encore singing performance, we danced and danced until our legs burned. It was actually really surprising how forward the young teachers were with us, they just grabbed our hands, shirts, and arms, then led us to the dance floor without asking. Fun times all around, can’t wait till next Norooz.

Mar 23: Scope it out

Today I visited nearby villages with Dan and his director to see if they could host a new volunteer. It was really cool to see a different village because all I see these days is Kurshab, Shagym, and Osh. Both the schools we visited were excited and tried their best to sell themselves as the best school for a new volunteer, but then they were surprised when the volunteer they might get was not Dan or me. Sorry folks.

After a long day, I walked home by way of side street and found a bunch of kids playing soccer in the street. Some were my students, so they screamed at me to play too. I was tired, wearing a blazer and dress shoes, and carrying a book, but I put it down, tossed my blazer on the grass and joined the game till my shirt was soaked through.

Just cause I felt like it.

Mar 04: Big game

We played our big game today against Shagym, but lost 13-12 in OT. It was a great game, but soured near the end when Godzilla fouled out andthen my kids threw a fit when a call didn't go their way in the last minute. Honestly, I was ashamed to be their coach when they began toberate the refs after a kid was fouled in the process of shooting and the shot counted. Oh, the refs, I meant Dan and I since we had to ref the game because our original referee came to the game drunk. Such is Kyrgyzstan sometimes.

After the game, we watched and cheered our schools play in the area-wide tournament, then laced our own shoes up to play in a game. With the students cheering loudly, Dan's Shagym team played my Bektimirov squad to an eventual tie. It was good for Dan and I to get out there and play especially after the sourness of the last game. Having the kids see us just ball and have a good time without getting super intense or upset about the score was definitely something we had to do to ease the tensions. After seeing Dan full-court press for the ENTIRE GAME, the kids probably think he's some kid of stamina freak (he is), and think I'm some kind of clown after all my behind-the-backpasses. I had a ton of fun running up and down the court, interacting with the fans watching the game, and just playing ball. Nothing quite like it.

Yesterday I bought my ticket to Bishkek and, in the process, completed my 4 for 4 day in the game of "What nationality are you?" A taxi driver earlier on insisted (not asked, insisted) that I was Kyrgyz. Later some old ladies at the bank told me (not asked, told me) that Iwas Uzbek. A student working at the internet café asked (wow!) if Iwas Tajik. And finally the travel agent spoke to me in Turkish for several minutes before I got it across that I spoke English. Of course, she had to ask where I had learned English because I was obviously not an American.

Obviously.

Mar 05: Names

Like I said last week, I have a Kyrgyz name now that my co-workers and students jokingly call me. It's Shaamsheer, but I'm still not exactly sure what it means. It's not in the dictionary, so I'm hoping they aren't calling me giraffe or something goofy like that. I tried to give my kids English names, but we never use them. Instead, I let them pick their own titles, whatever they want to be called. So we've got a Blade, Pow, Brain, Glasses, Terminator, Airplane, among others. I almost feel like we're a hippy commune.

Mar 07: Holidays

Tomorrow is Women's Day, the antithesis of Man Day. Supposedly it's a holiday all over the world, but whenever people here ask me if we celebrate Women's Day in America, I just laugh. America? Part of theworld? Stop joking, buddy!

As is my experience, Kyrgyz people like to celebrate holidays the day before the actual date, then relax on the holiday itself. Celebrations are uniformly the same, each one with lots of food, dancing, laughing, and toasts with plenty of alcohol. My host parents own a café in town (the Ylan Café, check it out, kids), so they hosted a party for their friends to celebrate the occasion. With the tablecloth covered in food, alcohol flowing freely, and Central Asian beats shaking the walls, Ylan Café was definitely bumping. Just one of those events that have become normal in my life lately. I usually walk back after these parties and laugh to myself because I forget that my everyday life isn't so everyday these days.

Got sidetracked there for a bit with the new PC Kyrgyzstan policy of submitting posts to our director for approval before posting online, but I'm back. Hopefully the updates won't be so slow from now on. Read faster, Alex! ;)

Feb 18: They’re watching!

Living in a village has its perks, don’t let me make it seem bad, but going to the city every once in awhile is a nice change of pace. The only bad thing is that I end up spending too much of my living allowance on internet, restaurants, etc. But I did find a Russian Coco Puffs and some fun looking ramen, that kind of stuff is worth it, right?

I guess the latest news for me these days is that I’m being monitored by the Peace Corps Blog Patrol. Just kidding with the name, but they did call me and ask that I delete a specific passage and be careful with what I write in the future. It wasn’t a big deal, I’m not a reporter so I don’t exactly feel neutered, and it’s not like I ever write anything serious.

For serious.

Feb 19: Not again

Yesterday I wore shorts for parts of the day. The sun was busy melting away the last bits of snow and ice, and I was outside helping shovel away the large chunks of ice left over. Spring was on its way...or so it seemed. I woke up this morning to new layer of snow and half-dollar size snowflakes crashing into the ground. Great.

We also met our new Program Manger for the south, Zaira. My expectations weren’t that high, but Zaira came into town and blew me away with her awesome English and poise befitting of a PM. Ever since PST ended and our PST leader, Jeff, left the country, it’s been kind of a struggle to know who to turn to if I had a problem. Problem solved.

Feb 20: Hot dog

I just wanted to let you know that I got a box from my folks today. Inside was a pink wiener dog wearing a cowboy hat.

That’s the end of the story.

Feb 21: Coach

A few weeks ago I volunteered to help with the boys basketball team simply because I like basketball and wanted a chance to get out and play while here in country. They must have misunderstood me because now I’m the coach of the team.

The language barrier is much more of a problem than I ever imagined it might be in sports. I figured that the kids would know “shoot,” “pass,” “pick-and-roll,” “stop taking retarded shots!” ...things like that, but they don’t. I guess I should’ve mentioned that nobody cares to dribble that often, jumping in the air and throwing an errant pass is normal, and everyone has bricks for hands, but they’re trying hard. I taught them how to set a pick today, but then nobody used it during scrimmage. Last time, I taught them how to bounce pass, but they prefer to throw the ball straight up and see who can jump higher to grab it. We have a game against Shagym on Saturday, so I hope they learn to dribble by then.

We’ve got a monster kid on the team who should be awesome, but only if the other kids will stop throwing up half-court shots and start throwing the ball down low to him to post up. Well, he’s a little shorter than me, but compared to the others, he’s Manute Bol out there. I think I yelled “Give Shaq the ball!” around 20 times today. If you’ve got Godzilla down on the block, of course you should give him the ball. He’ll score on the shrimplings guarding him everytime.

Feb 22: Man Day

Tomorrow is Boys’ Day, but I like to call it Man Day. At first, I thought it was just one of those half-holidays like Valentine’s or St. Patrick’s where you still have to work, but it turns out that it’s a legit holiday here in Kyrgyzstan so tomorrow I don’t have school. Alright, hooray for Man Day!

To celebrate Man Day, we had a competition between the classes today during school. It was a mini-Olympics with games like weightlifting, tug-of-war, drawing slogan posters, and races with water in your mouth (don’t ask for clarification). You know, man stuff, man. It was fun and, of course, weird to watch the games, made even more exciting by the hundreds of screaming, cheering kids. My ears were still ringing an hour after we cleared out of the gym.

After classes, we had a teacher’s party which was more or less just a luncheon with lots of vodka. Kyrgyzstan has so many hokey holidays that they really should just abolish all of them and admit that they are just excuses to get together for drinks and to not go to work. Oh, and I somehow got dubbed with a Kyrygz name that I don’t understand. I think they said it means “Light” or something like that. Who knows though, maybe it means “lightbulb” or “light headed,” I’m not exactly sure. Thanks guys. I also got a lot of congratulatory notes from my students, congratulating me for Man Day. Um...thanks kids.

March 8^th is Girls’ Day, so the tables will be turned then. Men are supposed to cook, clean, and tend to the women just as they are doing to us today. It should be fun to see especially in a society where men totally dominate all aspects of life. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to flash my culinary skills then because I’ll be getting ready for IST and the trip up to Bishkek.

Maybe next time, ladies.

Feb 23: Best. Card. Ever.

Since today is actually Man Day, I guess it makes sense that all the weirdness of yesterday was amplified today. I ran into my host brother in the courtyard this morning and asked what he was going to do today since we didn’t have school. Usually he has to help with chores, but he replied “Nothing.” I asked the same question to my host father and he gave the same response. I didn’t want to bum around today, so I asked if I could help out with something, chop some wood, feed the chickens, shovel away the last bits of snow, harass the cat, etc. but he just laughed and said “It’s Man Day! Relax!”

My host sister gave me a card later in the day that I can’t stop looking at. It’s a Man Day card with February 23 emblazoned on the front and some Russian text that I can’t read on the inside. On the outside is a tank, a battleship, and a Hind D, all surrounded by bullet shells. It’s like a mini-USSR military parade circa 1985. Oh, Man Day.

Feb 25: Babysitting

Here in Kyrgyzstan, they celebrate (or I guess, “remember”) deaths often. For example, if someone dies, they have a ceremony 1 week, 1 month, 40 days, 1 year, etc after he/she dies. When a person dies here, life insurance is almost unheard of, so the family bears the brunt of the loss including having to host these lavish gatherings. It’s not uncommon for a death of a family member to make a family plummet into extreme poverty here. My host parents took off today to celebrate the death of one of their friends who died a year ago. And they left the baby with me.

Well, I shouldn’t say he’s a baby, he’s 5 years old, but he’s the youngest kid here. I want to call him spoiled because he’s a crybaby and throws a fit every time his older brothers or sister tease him, but then again, can anyone in this country be called spoiled? I never babysat when I was younger, so I never really know what to do with him. Hey, want to listen to some Tupac with me? How about we watch some Smallville? Or do you want to read this book along with me? I don’t have any toys for him to play with, so basically we just sit around and make faces at each other.

He wants to play with his toy guns outside with me. He’s saying that I’ll be America, but he’s insisting that he’ll be Russia, not Kyrgyzstan. I’d like to tell him about the Cold War and how Kyrgyzstan is an independent country with its own military, but I don’t. I just raise my thumb, stick out my index finger, and fire away.

Bang bang bang.

Feb 26: Red

**removed per the request of Peace Corps Kyrgyzstan

Feb 27: The fool

When I woke up this morning, yesterday’s events were still on my mind, simmering, but definitely alive. Even after talking to numerous people about what happened, I still felt angry and eager to slam blame on the corrupt police officers.

Every morning, I read a random passage from the Bible before leaving for work. It’s not really random per se, I usually have an idea of what I want to read, but it’s always a good time to relax and gather my thoughts before heading out. Like it always has a knack for doing, the words jumped out to me this morning:

“A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control.” - Proverbs 29:11

I closed my eyes as I had yesterday, but just smiled this time.

Later on, a package that I feared had been missing showed up at our post office along with a card from my mom. The words written inside weren’t especially poetic or memorable, just simple thoughts of love and care, but they made all the difference in the world to me. While my dad’s steady support and encouragement supply an endless supply of vigor, it’s my mom’s reassuring attitude that will always be this calm I feel.

Nothing like a splash of cool water to calm a hot head.

Mar 02: The air up there

Before the past few weeks, I hadn’t exercised here in Kyrgyzstan at all. So I guess it shouldn’t have been a surprise when I couldn’t dunk at practice at first, but it disappointed me anyway. After a sore week, I am glad to report that I feel back to normal finally. Godzilla and I have a dunk contest after practice everyday, so it’s been exciting to finally be able to have my hops back. I won’t be poetic and say that time stops when you dunk, but everything definitely becomes quiet for that split second. There’s nothing like that feeling. Sorry R.Kelly, it doesn’t feel like flying, but you definitely feel like you are floating for an instant as gravity drags you back down. It’s why basketball will always be my release, my escape from the daily grind; I have too much fun playing ball.