Friday, February 6, 2009
change of address
Hey, if anybody is sending my letters/packages, make sure you omit School #7 from the address-because people have just been delivering mail to my schhol and it dissapears.... So if you want me to get it, just take out that part! Loves to you all. Oh and if you haven't figured it out, when I post these blogs, the oldest is at the top, and it goes down so that the most recent is at the bottem of the post.
It's been a while.....
January 15, 2009
The Complexities of the English Language
Happy New Year Ya’ll. Although I do realize it ‘twill possibly be awhile before I make the journey into the Metropolis of Ashgabat and enter this little ditty on the invention they call the world wide web, I thought I’d write for posterities sake. Think of it as a time capsule. So, now that we are in the grand year of 2009, what is my New Years resolution, you ask? My desires are simple:
1). Firstly, I am a realist, so I don’t plan on spreading the joy of linguistic knowledge to all reaches of this country, but I would like-by the end of my 2 years here-for ONE of my students (at the moment I have somewhere around 2000) to know enough grammar to be able to tell me a decent original joke in English. That would be thoroughly gratifying- Lord knows a little humor can go along way around here. On my end, I will reciprocate with a good Turkmen joke. Thus far in my quest, I have learned the phrase “you are killing me!” in Turkmen, which I find quite helpful around here when my kids are being unruly little demons (to put it gently).
2). My secondary resolution is to master walking in a long dress without completely making a fool of myself, or causing injuries to myself or to those around me. I am being utterly serious when I say this. This week alone I have tripped thirteen times, caught myself on a row of heaters (which almost resulted in death by fire) and used the last of my orange thread to mend the tears in my fashionable pumpkin-colored-maternity-style Koynek, most of which were resulted from various klutzy activities. I have never really considered myself an extremely graceful and overly coordinated person, but I have never experienced this grandiose level of personal mayhem in my life until I arrived to this country and dawned this charming national garment. At the moment, my life is a cross between a Mr. Bean and I Love Lucy episode- going about my personal business while simultaneously constantly avoiding and/or causing near disaster. To put it mildly, I miss pants.
Well, in other news, life in general has been very busy here. I am working a BIT more than I would like right now, but right now my personal goal is to power through this semester, so that I can crash from complete exhaustion when spring break rolls around. Personally, I think this is a good, well thought-out plan (ha). On the upside, I am becoming a pro at lesson planning, and can now whip out five different lesson plans in about an hour. The degree of diversity in English levels around here constantly stuns me. I go from teaching I am good for an hour, to working on phrasal idioms, to talking about the difference of countable and uncountable nouns, to teaching cat and dog, all in the course of a day. I am discovering things about the English language that I never thought possible. Take today, for example. Because the pronouns she and he don’t exist in Turkmen, I spent 15 minutes explaining to a student that it is possible to assign three separate pronouns to a cat. Most people generally just call a cat “it”. But some people, especially strange Americans, are very close to their cats, so it is also possible to say “she” or “he” if they to prefer to personify their cats. So somebody can say, “where is the cat?” And any normal person would reply, “It is sleeping.” BUT, take somebody who really loves their cat, and they know that their particular cat is a girl, and suddenly it is also possible to reply, “she is sleeping.” WHOA. A whole different pronoun, because now…wait for it… the sex of the cat had been positively identified!!! Whoodathunkit!! So, if anyone was curious, this is how I spend my days. If anyone so desires, now for only 3 payments of$19.99 plus tax and shipping, you can have all the episodes of “Megan’s Life in Turkmenistan” on DVD, with all politically incorrect footage unedited! (And believe you me, there’s a lot of that going on) Checks made payable to the address listed on this web page. Included is a bonus feature of dancing at Turkmen weddings that is particularly entertaining.
On a more somber note, I was tutoring a student the other day on the complexities of countable and non-countable nouns (which for any of you grammar stumped folks out there means when you can use the determiners much, or a lot of). We were discussing and arguing phrases when you use certain determiners based on the degree of ‘countability’. For instance, we say “I didn’t have much luck at the casino yesterday”, because you can measure the amount of luck that you experienced from the money you won or lost. But other things don’t have a measurable quality, and so we say “a lot of”. In this particular instance we were talking about grief, with the sentence “she has experienced a lot of grief in her life.” When I asked my student why she thought we used this determiner, she said,
“Well, I think the uncountable determiner is correct.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
“ Because you can’t measure grief,” she said. So, take that one home with you Jack Handy. That is one seriously deep thought.
Until next time,
Me
Feb 2, 2009
My first student joke
It was only just a few weeks or so ago that I was lamenting the lack of cross-lingual jokes. But hear ye, hear ye…I think I may have just got my first good one. The other day I was doing some scheduling with one of the teachers I am training, and through a bit of miming and pictionary, she drew out for me what she diplomatically titled “Hell’s Calendar”. It appears below:
Monday Monday Monday Monday Monday Monday Monday
work work work work work work work
Ok, so it might not win a slot on who’s line is it anyway, but it sure brightened my day, in the grand spectrum of things. In any case, it was a pretty witty joke coming from a very conservative Muslim woman. Needless to say she got an A for the day.
Also, from the non-related work area of my life, I am just now reading For Who the Bell Tolls, by Hemingway. As someone who holds a bachelors in English literature, I will admit I still have not read a large amount of famous American authors and books (aak, revoke my degree!). I have started and not finished at least 2 dozen classic novels all in the quest to make myself more of a literary elitist/snob. I will also admit I was once a declared hater of good ol’ Ernest (I mean, who’s mother willingly names their child Ernest, anyway?). I think it was due in part to the copious amounts of Hemingway in my High school AP English class curriculum, and also because in various college classes I have had to re-read The Sun Also Rises far too many times for my liking. But now I have turned the leaf, and am thus a fan of ‘The Hemingway’. This particular tale, for those of you who haven’t read it, is about a professor from Missoula, MT who’s hanging out in Spain, fightin’ a war, tryin’ to blow up a bridge, drinking lots of wine, and falling for a chick named Maria. And I asked myself how, out of all the cities in the world, did Hemingway pick Missoula? He can’t be all that bad of a guy, right? (Who knows, maybe I like it just because my last 2 zip codes were Missoula and Spain.) But in any case, I highly suggest to any of those who have not read it, to do so; it’s a pretty swell book. My favorite phrase from the book thus far? “I obscenity in the milk of thy mother.” Take that one to the bank, people. I’m going to use that one some day on an un-liked employer. He’s a jolly good writer, that Hemingway-even if he did steal Gertrude Stein’s thunder.
Well, I hope everybody is swell in the Motherland, or in countries elsewhere. Keep the news a coming and thanks for all the great packages so far from everybody-they make my days brighter! You are all awesome!
Peace.
January 5, 2009
MUD
So, we’ve had our first snow here in the jolly land of Tejen. A whole half-inch that lasted about 5 hours. Winter!! I made my little host siblings come outside and play with me, and showed them how to make a gar adam-snow man. (Although the result was only about 5 inches tall, due the limited supply of snow) But of course with the snow went the power. Pretty much the entire city of about thirty thousand went sans electricity for about a day and a half. My host parents, being the smart cookies they are, took advantage of the cold and hung all of our meat outside. I found our my neighborhood boys have guitars, because without TV they were forced to find different methods of entertainment, and the lack of light goaded them out into the street, thus I heard the same three Enrique Inglesias songs played over and over for about 5 hours straight. Although for a country with such a frequent rate of power outages, people are still remarkably unprepared for it. We have a total of 1 candle in our house, which is ancient and highly unpredictable, and no flashlights. Flashlights? What are those? My small keychain flashlight was the showstopper of the night, and was worth every last cent I paid for it at Sportsmans. For all the future volunteers that come to Turkmenistan and stumble across this little blog-forget hiking boots in your packing list, you won’t need ‘em-use the space and bring a friggin’ flashlight!!
I have also suffered my first mishap in this fair country. Due to the rain and snow, every last inch of dirt here has turned into a giant pile of mud/sludge. While walking to school this last Monday I attempted to avoid a rather persistent beastly dog by vaulting a small hill, and with all the slippery gook in every direction, did a spectacular Charlie Chaplin on my back. Besides being thoroughly covered in mud (my host dad almost peed his pants laughing at me when I came home looking like the abominable mud woman) I also somehow managed to injure myself and am now walking like an old bag lady with a bum hip. So this week I will be making an unexpected visit to the capital to say ‘hey’ to our medic and/or replace my entire spine. How is it that in your home country you can fall 5 thousand times or escape the jaws of death on a weekly basis and nothing ever comes of it, but when you’re in another country and a fly looks at you wrong, you end up with a broken elbow, or whooping cough, or some other equally exotic ailment? I wish somebody would explain that one to me when I’m in another country. As of now, it is Turkmenistan: 1, Lowly Volunteer: 0
The Complexities of the English Language
Happy New Year Ya’ll. Although I do realize it ‘twill possibly be awhile before I make the journey into the Metropolis of Ashgabat and enter this little ditty on the invention they call the world wide web, I thought I’d write for posterities sake. Think of it as a time capsule. So, now that we are in the grand year of 2009, what is my New Years resolution, you ask? My desires are simple:
1). Firstly, I am a realist, so I don’t plan on spreading the joy of linguistic knowledge to all reaches of this country, but I would like-by the end of my 2 years here-for ONE of my students (at the moment I have somewhere around 2000) to know enough grammar to be able to tell me a decent original joke in English. That would be thoroughly gratifying- Lord knows a little humor can go along way around here. On my end, I will reciprocate with a good Turkmen joke. Thus far in my quest, I have learned the phrase “you are killing me!” in Turkmen, which I find quite helpful around here when my kids are being unruly little demons (to put it gently).
2). My secondary resolution is to master walking in a long dress without completely making a fool of myself, or causing injuries to myself or to those around me. I am being utterly serious when I say this. This week alone I have tripped thirteen times, caught myself on a row of heaters (which almost resulted in death by fire) and used the last of my orange thread to mend the tears in my fashionable pumpkin-colored-maternity-style Koynek, most of which were resulted from various klutzy activities. I have never really considered myself an extremely graceful and overly coordinated person, but I have never experienced this grandiose level of personal mayhem in my life until I arrived to this country and dawned this charming national garment. At the moment, my life is a cross between a Mr. Bean and I Love Lucy episode- going about my personal business while simultaneously constantly avoiding and/or causing near disaster. To put it mildly, I miss pants.
Well, in other news, life in general has been very busy here. I am working a BIT more than I would like right now, but right now my personal goal is to power through this semester, so that I can crash from complete exhaustion when spring break rolls around. Personally, I think this is a good, well thought-out plan (ha). On the upside, I am becoming a pro at lesson planning, and can now whip out five different lesson plans in about an hour. The degree of diversity in English levels around here constantly stuns me. I go from teaching I am good for an hour, to working on phrasal idioms, to talking about the difference of countable and uncountable nouns, to teaching cat and dog, all in the course of a day. I am discovering things about the English language that I never thought possible. Take today, for example. Because the pronouns she and he don’t exist in Turkmen, I spent 15 minutes explaining to a student that it is possible to assign three separate pronouns to a cat. Most people generally just call a cat “it”. But some people, especially strange Americans, are very close to their cats, so it is also possible to say “she” or “he” if they to prefer to personify their cats. So somebody can say, “where is the cat?” And any normal person would reply, “It is sleeping.” BUT, take somebody who really loves their cat, and they know that their particular cat is a girl, and suddenly it is also possible to reply, “she is sleeping.” WHOA. A whole different pronoun, because now…wait for it… the sex of the cat had been positively identified!!! Whoodathunkit!! So, if anyone was curious, this is how I spend my days. If anyone so desires, now for only 3 payments of$19.99 plus tax and shipping, you can have all the episodes of “Megan’s Life in Turkmenistan” on DVD, with all politically incorrect footage unedited! (And believe you me, there’s a lot of that going on) Checks made payable to the address listed on this web page. Included is a bonus feature of dancing at Turkmen weddings that is particularly entertaining.
On a more somber note, I was tutoring a student the other day on the complexities of countable and non-countable nouns (which for any of you grammar stumped folks out there means when you can use the determiners much, or a lot of). We were discussing and arguing phrases when you use certain determiners based on the degree of ‘countability’. For instance, we say “I didn’t have much luck at the casino yesterday”, because you can measure the amount of luck that you experienced from the money you won or lost. But other things don’t have a measurable quality, and so we say “a lot of”. In this particular instance we were talking about grief, with the sentence “she has experienced a lot of grief in her life.” When I asked my student why she thought we used this determiner, she said,
“Well, I think the uncountable determiner is correct.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
“ Because you can’t measure grief,” she said. So, take that one home with you Jack Handy. That is one seriously deep thought.
Until next time,
Me
Feb 2, 2009
My first student joke
It was only just a few weeks or so ago that I was lamenting the lack of cross-lingual jokes. But hear ye, hear ye…I think I may have just got my first good one. The other day I was doing some scheduling with one of the teachers I am training, and through a bit of miming and pictionary, she drew out for me what she diplomatically titled “Hell’s Calendar”. It appears below:
Monday Monday Monday Monday Monday Monday Monday
work work work work work work work
Ok, so it might not win a slot on who’s line is it anyway, but it sure brightened my day, in the grand spectrum of things. In any case, it was a pretty witty joke coming from a very conservative Muslim woman. Needless to say she got an A for the day.
Also, from the non-related work area of my life, I am just now reading For Who the Bell Tolls, by Hemingway. As someone who holds a bachelors in English literature, I will admit I still have not read a large amount of famous American authors and books (aak, revoke my degree!). I have started and not finished at least 2 dozen classic novels all in the quest to make myself more of a literary elitist/snob. I will also admit I was once a declared hater of good ol’ Ernest (I mean, who’s mother willingly names their child Ernest, anyway?). I think it was due in part to the copious amounts of Hemingway in my High school AP English class curriculum, and also because in various college classes I have had to re-read The Sun Also Rises far too many times for my liking. But now I have turned the leaf, and am thus a fan of ‘The Hemingway’. This particular tale, for those of you who haven’t read it, is about a professor from Missoula, MT who’s hanging out in Spain, fightin’ a war, tryin’ to blow up a bridge, drinking lots of wine, and falling for a chick named Maria. And I asked myself how, out of all the cities in the world, did Hemingway pick Missoula? He can’t be all that bad of a guy, right? (Who knows, maybe I like it just because my last 2 zip codes were Missoula and Spain.) But in any case, I highly suggest to any of those who have not read it, to do so; it’s a pretty swell book. My favorite phrase from the book thus far? “I obscenity in the milk of thy mother.” Take that one to the bank, people. I’m going to use that one some day on an un-liked employer. He’s a jolly good writer, that Hemingway-even if he did steal Gertrude Stein’s thunder.
Well, I hope everybody is swell in the Motherland, or in countries elsewhere. Keep the news a coming and thanks for all the great packages so far from everybody-they make my days brighter! You are all awesome!
Peace.
January 5, 2009
MUD
So, we’ve had our first snow here in the jolly land of Tejen. A whole half-inch that lasted about 5 hours. Winter!! I made my little host siblings come outside and play with me, and showed them how to make a gar adam-snow man. (Although the result was only about 5 inches tall, due the limited supply of snow) But of course with the snow went the power. Pretty much the entire city of about thirty thousand went sans electricity for about a day and a half. My host parents, being the smart cookies they are, took advantage of the cold and hung all of our meat outside. I found our my neighborhood boys have guitars, because without TV they were forced to find different methods of entertainment, and the lack of light goaded them out into the street, thus I heard the same three Enrique Inglesias songs played over and over for about 5 hours straight. Although for a country with such a frequent rate of power outages, people are still remarkably unprepared for it. We have a total of 1 candle in our house, which is ancient and highly unpredictable, and no flashlights. Flashlights? What are those? My small keychain flashlight was the showstopper of the night, and was worth every last cent I paid for it at Sportsmans. For all the future volunteers that come to Turkmenistan and stumble across this little blog-forget hiking boots in your packing list, you won’t need ‘em-use the space and bring a friggin’ flashlight!!
I have also suffered my first mishap in this fair country. Due to the rain and snow, every last inch of dirt here has turned into a giant pile of mud/sludge. While walking to school this last Monday I attempted to avoid a rather persistent beastly dog by vaulting a small hill, and with all the slippery gook in every direction, did a spectacular Charlie Chaplin on my back. Besides being thoroughly covered in mud (my host dad almost peed his pants laughing at me when I came home looking like the abominable mud woman) I also somehow managed to injure myself and am now walking like an old bag lady with a bum hip. So this week I will be making an unexpected visit to the capital to say ‘hey’ to our medic and/or replace my entire spine. How is it that in your home country you can fall 5 thousand times or escape the jaws of death on a weekly basis and nothing ever comes of it, but when you’re in another country and a fly looks at you wrong, you end up with a broken elbow, or whooping cough, or some other equally exotic ailment? I wish somebody would explain that one to me when I’m in another country. As of now, it is Turkmenistan: 1, Lowly Volunteer: 0
Friday, December 26, 2008
December Post
December 08, 2008
The Flowers in Tejen
Smell the roses, count your blessings, eat your last meal, and get ready for the real deal, people. As of three days ago, we woke up at 5 o’clock in our nice hotel rooms, and one by one over the coarse of a few hours, the 43 of us squished all of our crap into a caravan of minibuses. And as dawn hit the tip of the city, we sped in all directions over the country of Turkmenistan to our new homes….
So, I have heard so many stories from other volunteers, even from before I came here, who told me that the first day you actually realize you are in the peace corps, and not just on some random weird vacation, is the day when the truck pulls up to the village, drops you at the front door, and peaces out for good. The phrase “that was the day I realized I was a volunteer” is the one sentence I have heard over and over since I started this whole shenanigan over a year ago (along with “holy crap what have I gotten myself into?” “Am I crazy?” and “when is the next bus out of here?”).
So while I watched the taillights disappear into the distance, I joined the hoards of PCV’s before me in taking a deep breath, picking up my suitcase and saying to myself “Ok, so here goes….”. I shut the gate behind me, followed my host father into the house, and began to lug all my crap into my room, which surprisingly had no door. Generally one to roll with the punches, I nodded and said to myself, “well, on the plus side of things, I do have a bed…”. But the worrying was all for naught, because about an hour later the door turned up-apparently my host father had been installing the mandatory “peace corps deadbolt” onto it, and so it was down for repairs. Wanting to be a good volunteer, I started putting some of my things away, organized a bit, and then, because my host mother and the kids were out, decided to take a quick nap to recharge my batteries so I could be properly talkative and social.
Long story short: I woke up five and a half hours later. So much for the first day impression with the host family; I slept through the whole damn thing. Apparently staying up the night before you go to permanent site isn’t the smartest option, especially if you want to be perkier later. I got up that evening, having missed lunch and dinner, stumbled out of my room, and my host mom, who was seriously concerned and confused, started yelling “Megan!! Why you sleep?! What is wrong!?”. So yeah, off to a great start. But a little explaining in broken Turkmen/English and we were cool. I actually came at a pretty good time, because this week is a four day holiday, called “good neighbor day” which every other person repeatedly explained to me, is when you go guesting and eat lots and lots of Dograma (bread soup) and Palov (rice with carrots and onions) and gossip with family and friends. Or in my case, go to a house, avoid eating too much oil, and listen to everyone talk about “the American and her salary” for three hours in front of you. But it was actually lots of fun. The first night, we went to my “host grandma’s” house and ripped about a hundred loaves of bread for the Dograma. (It’s later mixed with a vat of boiled animal fat and onions, and served with some sort of broth stuff. Yum.) I can honestly say I had some nice calluses the next day on my‘ bread tearing thumbs’. Then because it was late, we crashed at grandmas pad (a surprise to me, and I admit the high maintenance American in me desperately wanted my toothbrush and contact solution the whole night). We woke up the next morning for some serious cooking and entertaining. I wore my new koynek, which all the Turkmen ladies glowed over. It’s amazing how much more the people in this country like you if you just put on a sack of a dress with flowers sewn on it (and let me just add to the visual by pointing out that my koynek is also bright orange, and I could probably be six months pregnant in it and nobody would be the wiser). A stunning difference from my old uniform of a skirt and long sleeved shirt. The women wouldn’t really let me cook, so I just sat around looking lazy for a while, until the first guests showed up, then they stuck me in a room with two Dyzas (old ladies) and I let them grill and critique me in Turkmen for a while, until more people showed up and they brought out the beloved Dograma to eat. By two o’clock I was so incoherent and tired I literally fell asleep at the table (by table I mean rug on the floor), until some of the ladies noticed, loudly let my host mom know, then we were hustled into the grandfathers car to drive us home.
The ride home was a story in itself as well. The grandfather is an interesting man; a Journalist, he lived in Cuba for a few years, and in some random Scandinavian country for a while, (although as far as I could tell, he didn’t speak Spanish, English, or Norwegian). But packed into his car on the way back, he filled me in –through translation-on some valuable American history of which I was previously unaware. I will present that conversation here in loose translation, so you can fully enjoy and pass along this knowledge to all of your friends and colleagues.
Grandpa: “Girl, do you know American history?”
Me: “Yes, I think so.”
Grandpa: “Then who is Christopher Columbus?”
Me: “The first European that came to America.”
Grandpa: “Do you Americans say that he discovered America?”
Me “Yup.”
Grandpa “Bah, Stupid! Before Christopher Columbus came to America, the Turkmen people were there.”
Me: “Really, how is that?”
Grandpa: “The Turkmen were in Russia for many years, and long ago a group of Turkmen traveled across Russia and came over the water to Alaska!”
Me: “Really??” (In disbelief)
Grandpa: “Of course, why do you think your Indians in America look like Turkmen people? Because we were in America before Columbus was there. He came many years after we had found it. Our people were the first ones there.”
Me: “Wow. And to think we never knew. I’ll make sure to tell people back home about that.”
So there you have it. Not that our history books aren’t accurate already, but we’re missing the part where a large majority of Americans are genetically derived from the Turkmen people. Take that as you may.
That’s pretty much it for the first few days here in Tejen. Not much else for interesting tidbits of life on this end of the world. Although, I suppose I can pass along the highlight of my day today: this morning I translated for my host dad part of a BMW engine manual from German into English and then with my host mom into Turkmen and Russian. Never mind that I have never studied a single world of German in my entire life, my Turkmen is barely passable, and I don’t speak Russian. I now know how to say automatic brake fluid in 4 languages. Life is funny sometimes. Peace out, ya’ll.
December 24, 2008
They’re all going to laugh at you!
Gün Tertibi. These two words little have been the bane of my existence for the last week and a half. Gün Tertibi is Turkmen for Daily Calendar. After a nice 5 days of complete laziness and avoiding reality and the outside world, I finally ventured to school with my counterpart to see what this volunteer teaching thing was all about. I was told there were 5 English teachers. Not too bad, thought I. But then factor in that there is an afternoon schedule and a morning schedule, and that the English Center has to be open in the morning and in the afternoon as well. Roll that into a second-world school system and what you basically have is -in a nutshell- general chaos. My Department director was gone to the capital for a week, so for the first week I had it pretty easy, just following random teachers around and teaching a lesson here and there and writing down when they wanted me to come and promising that the center would be open soon. I also discovered that there were two more teachers than originally accounted for-making for a total of 7 teachers I will work with. So this Monday we finally had our schedule meeting and she mentioned that I needed to teach not only in the morning and the afternoon, and have the center available in the morning and the afternoon, but I was also asked to teach advance classes at another school as well. So I worked up a schedule complicated enough to confuse pretty much everybody involved (including me) and am crossing my fingers and hoping that it works. So the last day and I half I have spent trying to figure out the graphs and charts feature on my friggin’ computer (apparently I made it through four years of college with out doing graphs and charts-that’s what you get for being a liberal arts major) and a doing bilingual newsletter for the district schools here in Tejen.
It will be interesting to see how successful this newsletter thing is (or if I’ve just wasted a day and a half), because in Turkmen they have two forms of the language-the spoken form and the written form. I only learned the spoken form, because PC said we wouldn’t need to write in Turkmen, we just needed to know how to speak it. So thus I am doing a written newsletter in spoken Turkmen. We’ll see how it goes over… I keep hearing Adam Sandler’s voice in my head over and over again saying “They’re all going to laugh at you! They’re all going to laugh at you!”. I guess I’ll see next week when I open up the center if the message got through.
In the meantime I am wishing everybody over the ocean a Happy Holiday season!!! I keep forgetting its’ Christmas here in a few days-because Christmas spirit isn’t much in this part of the world, and if nobody mentions it, I kind of forget about it. My host mother though, bless her soul, is cooking me a Christmas dinner, and next Saturday we got a travel permission to go to the Capital for a Volunteer Party hosted in the office, so me and one of my other volunteer pals are going to journey in and crash with my old host family for a night. I am a little worried about how excited I am to use the Internet when I get there…
December 25, 2008
Christmas and Margaret Thatcher
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE….AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!! (Plus Kwanza and Hanukkah)
Dear Santa: I want a pony and a princess castle. Or maybe a pair of jeans. Actually, make that a glass of pasteurized milk. With one of my mom’s Brownies with the dried cherry things. Or maybe the most recent issue of the New Yorker or a Newsweek. Wait, you know what? I got it. I would like, for Christmas, one medium sized shower Loufa (that spongy thing you use with soap). That would be the end all.
Actually, to be completely serious, the number one thing on my holiday wish list would be like an inch of snow. This is my third, count it, THIRD Christmas without snow overseas. Although interestingly enough, there is this weird white film on the sand here that kind of resembles frost, and could almost pass for it, but I’m pretty sure it’s dried up salt. I’ve decided I’m just going to pretend it is frost, if only to boost the seasonal spirit of things So while all of you in the Northland complain about the frost and snow and ice, please think of the less fortunate out there who have only frosty-looking sand and camels wearing cowbells. And maybe, if you feel up to it, make a snow angel for those of us who can’t.
On the upside of life, I’m going to an English Christmas Party today at my school. The kids are singing Jingle Bells, doing a skit of the Cinderella story (which somehow translates here into “The Ash Tree”) and Singing Mariah Carey’s Hero (accompanied by cell phone music). They are also doing an English Trivia Game. One of the advanced students let me preview the Trivia answers, and I totally got schooled. Europeans are always harping on us poor Americans because we don’t know anything about Geography or History. And I’m a prime example of this stereotype. Guess who didn’t know who the third President of the United States was? Or the first woman Prime Minister? (Yes, Thomas Jefferson and Margaret Thatcher for all of you smarty pants out there...) And who knew that the capital of Australia is NOT Sydney. (ok, maybe lots of people….) I just nodded, praised them on how smart they were, shrugged and said I hadn’t studied any of that stuff in 7 years, but I used to know it when I was a student (did I?). So I’m supplying a Christmas tree and a bit of American culture. Should be fun.
Oh I forgot to mention to people earlier, but I now have a new address and wait for it…a phone number!! Although I’m not sure what the country code is to call to Turkmenistan, but I’m sure a little sleuthing on the Internet and it would be easy enough to find out if you so desire to phone me . I think Turkmenistan is a12 hour time difference from standard Mountain Time… Anyhoo, they are as follows:
Address
Megan Haggar, PCV
Mekdep #7, c.p. Ejeby
Ahal Welayatynyñ, Tejen Etraby
Tejen Saher, 745360
Türkmenistan
Phone number:
800135-40724
Well, that’s pretty much it. As always, I would looove your letters and news (i.e. any old magazines and newspapers with news of the outside world, cause all I get is Russian news)! Although, on a last note…if ANYBODY feels like sending a gift- and I will totally reciprocate with Turkmen goodies-and has in their possession the pirated 5th Season thus far of The Office, I will personally mail you an ENTIRE Camel. You would make about 50 volunteers here in this country extremely happy. Merry Christmas to all!!
The Flowers in Tejen
Smell the roses, count your blessings, eat your last meal, and get ready for the real deal, people. As of three days ago, we woke up at 5 o’clock in our nice hotel rooms, and one by one over the coarse of a few hours, the 43 of us squished all of our crap into a caravan of minibuses. And as dawn hit the tip of the city, we sped in all directions over the country of Turkmenistan to our new homes….
So, I have heard so many stories from other volunteers, even from before I came here, who told me that the first day you actually realize you are in the peace corps, and not just on some random weird vacation, is the day when the truck pulls up to the village, drops you at the front door, and peaces out for good. The phrase “that was the day I realized I was a volunteer” is the one sentence I have heard over and over since I started this whole shenanigan over a year ago (along with “holy crap what have I gotten myself into?” “Am I crazy?” and “when is the next bus out of here?”).
So while I watched the taillights disappear into the distance, I joined the hoards of PCV’s before me in taking a deep breath, picking up my suitcase and saying to myself “Ok, so here goes….”. I shut the gate behind me, followed my host father into the house, and began to lug all my crap into my room, which surprisingly had no door. Generally one to roll with the punches, I nodded and said to myself, “well, on the plus side of things, I do have a bed…”. But the worrying was all for naught, because about an hour later the door turned up-apparently my host father had been installing the mandatory “peace corps deadbolt” onto it, and so it was down for repairs. Wanting to be a good volunteer, I started putting some of my things away, organized a bit, and then, because my host mother and the kids were out, decided to take a quick nap to recharge my batteries so I could be properly talkative and social.
Long story short: I woke up five and a half hours later. So much for the first day impression with the host family; I slept through the whole damn thing. Apparently staying up the night before you go to permanent site isn’t the smartest option, especially if you want to be perkier later. I got up that evening, having missed lunch and dinner, stumbled out of my room, and my host mom, who was seriously concerned and confused, started yelling “Megan!! Why you sleep?! What is wrong!?”. So yeah, off to a great start. But a little explaining in broken Turkmen/English and we were cool. I actually came at a pretty good time, because this week is a four day holiday, called “good neighbor day” which every other person repeatedly explained to me, is when you go guesting and eat lots and lots of Dograma (bread soup) and Palov (rice with carrots and onions) and gossip with family and friends. Or in my case, go to a house, avoid eating too much oil, and listen to everyone talk about “the American and her salary” for three hours in front of you. But it was actually lots of fun. The first night, we went to my “host grandma’s” house and ripped about a hundred loaves of bread for the Dograma. (It’s later mixed with a vat of boiled animal fat and onions, and served with some sort of broth stuff. Yum.) I can honestly say I had some nice calluses the next day on my‘ bread tearing thumbs’. Then because it was late, we crashed at grandmas pad (a surprise to me, and I admit the high maintenance American in me desperately wanted my toothbrush and contact solution the whole night). We woke up the next morning for some serious cooking and entertaining. I wore my new koynek, which all the Turkmen ladies glowed over. It’s amazing how much more the people in this country like you if you just put on a sack of a dress with flowers sewn on it (and let me just add to the visual by pointing out that my koynek is also bright orange, and I could probably be six months pregnant in it and nobody would be the wiser). A stunning difference from my old uniform of a skirt and long sleeved shirt. The women wouldn’t really let me cook, so I just sat around looking lazy for a while, until the first guests showed up, then they stuck me in a room with two Dyzas (old ladies) and I let them grill and critique me in Turkmen for a while, until more people showed up and they brought out the beloved Dograma to eat. By two o’clock I was so incoherent and tired I literally fell asleep at the table (by table I mean rug on the floor), until some of the ladies noticed, loudly let my host mom know, then we were hustled into the grandfathers car to drive us home.
The ride home was a story in itself as well. The grandfather is an interesting man; a Journalist, he lived in Cuba for a few years, and in some random Scandinavian country for a while, (although as far as I could tell, he didn’t speak Spanish, English, or Norwegian). But packed into his car on the way back, he filled me in –through translation-on some valuable American history of which I was previously unaware. I will present that conversation here in loose translation, so you can fully enjoy and pass along this knowledge to all of your friends and colleagues.
Grandpa: “Girl, do you know American history?”
Me: “Yes, I think so.”
Grandpa: “Then who is Christopher Columbus?”
Me: “The first European that came to America.”
Grandpa: “Do you Americans say that he discovered America?”
Me “Yup.”
Grandpa “Bah, Stupid! Before Christopher Columbus came to America, the Turkmen people were there.”
Me: “Really, how is that?”
Grandpa: “The Turkmen were in Russia for many years, and long ago a group of Turkmen traveled across Russia and came over the water to Alaska!”
Me: “Really??” (In disbelief)
Grandpa: “Of course, why do you think your Indians in America look like Turkmen people? Because we were in America before Columbus was there. He came many years after we had found it. Our people were the first ones there.”
Me: “Wow. And to think we never knew. I’ll make sure to tell people back home about that.”
So there you have it. Not that our history books aren’t accurate already, but we’re missing the part where a large majority of Americans are genetically derived from the Turkmen people. Take that as you may.
That’s pretty much it for the first few days here in Tejen. Not much else for interesting tidbits of life on this end of the world. Although, I suppose I can pass along the highlight of my day today: this morning I translated for my host dad part of a BMW engine manual from German into English and then with my host mom into Turkmen and Russian. Never mind that I have never studied a single world of German in my entire life, my Turkmen is barely passable, and I don’t speak Russian. I now know how to say automatic brake fluid in 4 languages. Life is funny sometimes. Peace out, ya’ll.
December 24, 2008
They’re all going to laugh at you!
Gün Tertibi. These two words little have been the bane of my existence for the last week and a half. Gün Tertibi is Turkmen for Daily Calendar. After a nice 5 days of complete laziness and avoiding reality and the outside world, I finally ventured to school with my counterpart to see what this volunteer teaching thing was all about. I was told there were 5 English teachers. Not too bad, thought I. But then factor in that there is an afternoon schedule and a morning schedule, and that the English Center has to be open in the morning and in the afternoon as well. Roll that into a second-world school system and what you basically have is -in a nutshell- general chaos. My Department director was gone to the capital for a week, so for the first week I had it pretty easy, just following random teachers around and teaching a lesson here and there and writing down when they wanted me to come and promising that the center would be open soon. I also discovered that there were two more teachers than originally accounted for-making for a total of 7 teachers I will work with. So this Monday we finally had our schedule meeting and she mentioned that I needed to teach not only in the morning and the afternoon, and have the center available in the morning and the afternoon, but I was also asked to teach advance classes at another school as well. So I worked up a schedule complicated enough to confuse pretty much everybody involved (including me) and am crossing my fingers and hoping that it works. So the last day and I half I have spent trying to figure out the graphs and charts feature on my friggin’ computer (apparently I made it through four years of college with out doing graphs and charts-that’s what you get for being a liberal arts major) and a doing bilingual newsletter for the district schools here in Tejen.
It will be interesting to see how successful this newsletter thing is (or if I’ve just wasted a day and a half), because in Turkmen they have two forms of the language-the spoken form and the written form. I only learned the spoken form, because PC said we wouldn’t need to write in Turkmen, we just needed to know how to speak it. So thus I am doing a written newsletter in spoken Turkmen. We’ll see how it goes over… I keep hearing Adam Sandler’s voice in my head over and over again saying “They’re all going to laugh at you! They’re all going to laugh at you!”. I guess I’ll see next week when I open up the center if the message got through.
In the meantime I am wishing everybody over the ocean a Happy Holiday season!!! I keep forgetting its’ Christmas here in a few days-because Christmas spirit isn’t much in this part of the world, and if nobody mentions it, I kind of forget about it. My host mother though, bless her soul, is cooking me a Christmas dinner, and next Saturday we got a travel permission to go to the Capital for a Volunteer Party hosted in the office, so me and one of my other volunteer pals are going to journey in and crash with my old host family for a night. I am a little worried about how excited I am to use the Internet when I get there…
December 25, 2008
Christmas and Margaret Thatcher
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE….AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!! (Plus Kwanza and Hanukkah)
Dear Santa: I want a pony and a princess castle. Or maybe a pair of jeans. Actually, make that a glass of pasteurized milk. With one of my mom’s Brownies with the dried cherry things. Or maybe the most recent issue of the New Yorker or a Newsweek. Wait, you know what? I got it. I would like, for Christmas, one medium sized shower Loufa (that spongy thing you use with soap). That would be the end all.
Actually, to be completely serious, the number one thing on my holiday wish list would be like an inch of snow. This is my third, count it, THIRD Christmas without snow overseas. Although interestingly enough, there is this weird white film on the sand here that kind of resembles frost, and could almost pass for it, but I’m pretty sure it’s dried up salt. I’ve decided I’m just going to pretend it is frost, if only to boost the seasonal spirit of things So while all of you in the Northland complain about the frost and snow and ice, please think of the less fortunate out there who have only frosty-looking sand and camels wearing cowbells. And maybe, if you feel up to it, make a snow angel for those of us who can’t.
On the upside of life, I’m going to an English Christmas Party today at my school. The kids are singing Jingle Bells, doing a skit of the Cinderella story (which somehow translates here into “The Ash Tree”) and Singing Mariah Carey’s Hero (accompanied by cell phone music). They are also doing an English Trivia Game. One of the advanced students let me preview the Trivia answers, and I totally got schooled. Europeans are always harping on us poor Americans because we don’t know anything about Geography or History. And I’m a prime example of this stereotype. Guess who didn’t know who the third President of the United States was? Or the first woman Prime Minister? (Yes, Thomas Jefferson and Margaret Thatcher for all of you smarty pants out there...) And who knew that the capital of Australia is NOT Sydney. (ok, maybe lots of people….) I just nodded, praised them on how smart they were, shrugged and said I hadn’t studied any of that stuff in 7 years, but I used to know it when I was a student (did I?). So I’m supplying a Christmas tree and a bit of American culture. Should be fun.
Oh I forgot to mention to people earlier, but I now have a new address and wait for it…a phone number!! Although I’m not sure what the country code is to call to Turkmenistan, but I’m sure a little sleuthing on the Internet and it would be easy enough to find out if you so desire to phone me . I think Turkmenistan is a12 hour time difference from standard Mountain Time… Anyhoo, they are as follows:
Address
Megan Haggar, PCV
Mekdep #7, c.p. Ejeby
Ahal Welayatynyñ, Tejen Etraby
Tejen Saher, 745360
Türkmenistan
Phone number:
800135-40724
Well, that’s pretty much it. As always, I would looove your letters and news (i.e. any old magazines and newspapers with news of the outside world, cause all I get is Russian news)! Although, on a last note…if ANYBODY feels like sending a gift- and I will totally reciprocate with Turkmen goodies-and has in their possession the pirated 5th Season thus far of The Office, I will personally mail you an ENTIRE Camel. You would make about 50 volunteers here in this country extremely happy. Merry Christmas to all!!
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Tads and tidbits
So,
I have been getting more questions about things like what do Turkmens wear, what do they eat, how do they live, and so on and so forth. Obviously it’s a wee bit difficult to sum up an entire country and its culture in a few paragraphs. But I’ll take a swing at a few topics, just to fill in some of the blanks.
A lot of what I read online before I came I have found to be quite right on the money. Talking to a few of my fellow volunteers here, it seems we all tuned in to the same information before we came: current and past volunteers blogs. The random stuff I remember reading, like for instance, how they play the Star Wars theme song on the radio before every news broadcast, or how every car is actually a functioning taxi, is indeed true. Fact: I now listen to the star wars theme song on a daily basis, and can now humm it by memory. Fact: I can walk out my front door, into the street, stick out my hand, and pretty much the next car that stops, if they’re headed my way, I hop in and for 10,000 manats (about 75 cents) they’ll drop me wherever I need to go, no questions asked. Why is this ok? Everybody’s out to make a bit of extra cash, so what’s the problem with utilizing those empty seats? And due to the Soviet Union being here for so long, everybody’s still got a good taste of not wanting to be in trouble with “the law”. So the bottom line is: no funny business. You get in, you get dropped off, its that simple. Not that crime isn’t unheard of here, but comparatively speaking, Turkmenistan one of the safest countries in the world. Still don’t believe this is a completely tame country? How about that one of the biggest symbols of the country is called the Arch of Nutrality, which is this impressive robot looking statue in the center of the capital city. It looks kind of like a huge rocket ship straddling a few roads, covered in changing colored lights, and topped with a moving golden statue of a past president with a flowing cape It is set so that the statue is always following the rotation of the sun, which you can tell by how the cape is flowing behind him. The golden statues job, you ask? To remain neutral ladies and gentleman. Notice a theme?
Food; always a fun topic of conversation. I had heard the food was not figure friendly here, Oily, heavy, bread by the ton, and no veggies. First impression, ok…a little bit true. Turkmen LOVE their bread. And their cotton seed oil. And Potatoes are just damn cheap, so why not eat them for breakfast? Soup, or Chorba, as it called here, is a big staple of Turkmen diet. I have soup at least once a day, although often it is two times a day. One of their National dishes is something called Dograma, which they eating at parties and weddings, and is a soup with bread broken up in a broth of chicken and onions. Mixed reviews on this one. Another National dish is called Palov –pronounced pall-ow-which literally translated to rice pilaf. It is rice boiled in cottonseed oil with lots of fried carrots and a few pieces of whatever meat is handy tossed in. I like this one, although I try not to think about the three cups of oil that is in it. Another popular national dish is called Unash, which is another soup with beans and homemade boiled noodles mixed in. They serve it with a side of camel yogurt, so you take a spoonful of yogurt, mix it to taste, and voila, creamy noodle soup stuff. This one is allright to, all though I think I like it mostly because it is one of the only meals that has milk in it, hence one of my only sources of calcium now.
I have already noticed in the last two weeks veggies have pretty much disappeared from our food tables. When we arrived there were cucumbers and tomatoes coming out our ears. Now however, the green has mostly disappeared from the table, and I think we’re looking at a long winter of potatoes. Exporting and importing seasonal veggies in this area of the world is too expensive, so when the growing season is over, that’s the show folks-wait until spring comes back. Although in the last week or so I’ve had a good amount-my mom will appreciate this- Kimshee. It’s a Korean dish of pretty much any vegetable soaked in a Vinegar-like mixture and some spice. But even Kimshee is starting to become rare on the table. I have a feeling in a few weeks my veggies are going to consist of canned tomatoes and pickles for the next 5 months. If anyone wants to try and air mail me some cucumbers…lets just say if the box made it, you would be my bestest new friend ever. On the other side, I’m suppose going to have to develop a better relationship with potatoes and utilize those Billie Blanks disks I brought I suppose…
Well, I think that covers a few things. I’m going to try and attach some fotos I took, with a trick one of my techno savy volunteer pals showed me, so hopefully it works. One is a picture of Anew, where I live now, with the long windy dirt road. I walk home on this road every day. Theres also a picture of some of the houses around where I live, which I took from my room. Theres one of some friends and I in front of a BIG mosque-which is where the old president is buried, right outside the capital, and supposedly the largest mosque in Central Asia. Also a foto of my four training site mates and I-these are the folks I spend pretty much all my waking hours with. Good people. And another foto of my family baking bread in the Tamdyr-a holy oven Turkmens soley for their chorek, or bread. Its holy for them so there’s a whole set of rules on how to treat the bread and its oven. Some general bread rules:
1. Never swear or tell lies around the bread. Bad karma and VERY disrespectful. This keeps mealtime conversation very tame.
2. Never step OVER or in front of the bread. Also bad karma.
3. Do not lean, dirty, or break the Tamdyr.
4. Do not put the bread face down. The small designs pressed on the top of the bread must always face Allah, or the sky.
5. When you tear a piece of bread for yourself, you must tear the bread by holding it evenly with both hands so that it doesn’t touch the ground when you eat.
6. Finish the bread piece that you tore for yourself. No crumbs left behind, people. There’s some good history to this one: when times were tough, bread was all people had, so if you do not finish your bread, you are not respecting the hardship that your ancestors went through in times of hunger.
Just one set of table manners to live by. Until next time, ya'll
I have been getting more questions about things like what do Turkmens wear, what do they eat, how do they live, and so on and so forth. Obviously it’s a wee bit difficult to sum up an entire country and its culture in a few paragraphs. But I’ll take a swing at a few topics, just to fill in some of the blanks.
A lot of what I read online before I came I have found to be quite right on the money. Talking to a few of my fellow volunteers here, it seems we all tuned in to the same information before we came: current and past volunteers blogs. The random stuff I remember reading, like for instance, how they play the Star Wars theme song on the radio before every news broadcast, or how every car is actually a functioning taxi, is indeed true. Fact: I now listen to the star wars theme song on a daily basis, and can now humm it by memory. Fact: I can walk out my front door, into the street, stick out my hand, and pretty much the next car that stops, if they’re headed my way, I hop in and for 10,000 manats (about 75 cents) they’ll drop me wherever I need to go, no questions asked. Why is this ok? Everybody’s out to make a bit of extra cash, so what’s the problem with utilizing those empty seats? And due to the Soviet Union being here for so long, everybody’s still got a good taste of not wanting to be in trouble with “the law”. So the bottom line is: no funny business. You get in, you get dropped off, its that simple. Not that crime isn’t unheard of here, but comparatively speaking, Turkmenistan one of the safest countries in the world. Still don’t believe this is a completely tame country? How about that one of the biggest symbols of the country is called the Arch of Nutrality, which is this impressive robot looking statue in the center of the capital city. It looks kind of like a huge rocket ship straddling a few roads, covered in changing colored lights, and topped with a moving golden statue of a past president with a flowing cape It is set so that the statue is always following the rotation of the sun, which you can tell by how the cape is flowing behind him. The golden statues job, you ask? To remain neutral ladies and gentleman. Notice a theme?
Food; always a fun topic of conversation. I had heard the food was not figure friendly here, Oily, heavy, bread by the ton, and no veggies. First impression, ok…a little bit true. Turkmen LOVE their bread. And their cotton seed oil. And Potatoes are just damn cheap, so why not eat them for breakfast? Soup, or Chorba, as it called here, is a big staple of Turkmen diet. I have soup at least once a day, although often it is two times a day. One of their National dishes is something called Dograma, which they eating at parties and weddings, and is a soup with bread broken up in a broth of chicken and onions. Mixed reviews on this one. Another National dish is called Palov –pronounced pall-ow-which literally translated to rice pilaf. It is rice boiled in cottonseed oil with lots of fried carrots and a few pieces of whatever meat is handy tossed in. I like this one, although I try not to think about the three cups of oil that is in it. Another popular national dish is called Unash, which is another soup with beans and homemade boiled noodles mixed in. They serve it with a side of camel yogurt, so you take a spoonful of yogurt, mix it to taste, and voila, creamy noodle soup stuff. This one is allright to, all though I think I like it mostly because it is one of the only meals that has milk in it, hence one of my only sources of calcium now.
I have already noticed in the last two weeks veggies have pretty much disappeared from our food tables. When we arrived there were cucumbers and tomatoes coming out our ears. Now however, the green has mostly disappeared from the table, and I think we’re looking at a long winter of potatoes. Exporting and importing seasonal veggies in this area of the world is too expensive, so when the growing season is over, that’s the show folks-wait until spring comes back. Although in the last week or so I’ve had a good amount-my mom will appreciate this- Kimshee. It’s a Korean dish of pretty much any vegetable soaked in a Vinegar-like mixture and some spice. But even Kimshee is starting to become rare on the table. I have a feeling in a few weeks my veggies are going to consist of canned tomatoes and pickles for the next 5 months. If anyone wants to try and air mail me some cucumbers…lets just say if the box made it, you would be my bestest new friend ever. On the other side, I’m suppose going to have to develop a better relationship with potatoes and utilize those Billie Blanks disks I brought I suppose…
Well, I think that covers a few things. I’m going to try and attach some fotos I took, with a trick one of my techno savy volunteer pals showed me, so hopefully it works. One is a picture of Anew, where I live now, with the long windy dirt road. I walk home on this road every day. Theres also a picture of some of the houses around where I live, which I took from my room. Theres one of some friends and I in front of a BIG mosque-which is where the old president is buried, right outside the capital, and supposedly the largest mosque in Central Asia. Also a foto of my four training site mates and I-these are the folks I spend pretty much all my waking hours with. Good people. And another foto of my family baking bread in the Tamdyr-a holy oven Turkmens soley for their chorek, or bread. Its holy for them so there’s a whole set of rules on how to treat the bread and its oven. Some general bread rules:
1. Never swear or tell lies around the bread. Bad karma and VERY disrespectful. This keeps mealtime conversation very tame.
2. Never step OVER or in front of the bread. Also bad karma.
3. Do not lean, dirty, or break the Tamdyr.
4. Do not put the bread face down. The small designs pressed on the top of the bread must always face Allah, or the sky.
5. When you tear a piece of bread for yourself, you must tear the bread by holding it evenly with both hands so that it doesn’t touch the ground when you eat.
6. Finish the bread piece that you tore for yourself. No crumbs left behind, people. There’s some good history to this one: when times were tough, bread was all people had, so if you do not finish your bread, you are not respecting the hardship that your ancestors went through in times of hunger.
Just one set of table manners to live by. Until next time, ya'll
Sunday, November 16, 2008
CAKE
Lots of Cake
So this last week we did our permanent site visits. Our site announcements happened to be on the same day as the election back in the states, so our director, as soon as he found out who won, came down to the training meeting to pass out the acceptant speech. Everybody was pretty psyched (at least all the democrats of the group). It was kind of weird to be on the other side of the world when such a big thing was happening back in the States. Our director told us it was the biggest turn out at the polls since 1930 something or other-so that was pretty wild. I really would have loved to see even like 5 minutes off CNN to see when it was going down. But what can ya do.. Anyway, after all that, they gave us our placements. Come December I will be living in Tejen City, Ahal for the rest of my time here. They bussed/flew our counterparts up to meet us, and the next day we traveled with them for site visits. Half of our folks had to take a plane and/or train, cause the roads are crappy pretty much everywhere.
Tejen is going to be an interesting town-the population is about 30,000-but its not really a city besides having a big bazaar. There are 10 schools-my school has about 2,000 kids, although only about 6 English teachers. There is no infrastructure or city center, although they do have a post office, and a telegraph office. Most of the roads aren’t paved, so it feels like a big town. In fact when I was walking to work the first morning we had to chill for a little bit cause there was a huge heard of camels hogging the main street, and we had to wait till they went on their way. It was definitely an interesting morning commute, to say the least. The nearest internet place I found out is in the Capital, so I will be looking at a 2 hour taxi ride whenever I have to go in…so needless to say I won’t be checking my email that much after December. Right now I have it pretty posh cause our village is only 20 min. outside the city AND it has an Internet café. So prepare to hear from me a lot less folks The site visit was interesting, I met my new host family, who seem like cool people-although I really love my host family now-its going to be really hard to leave them. My host mom is an English teacher as well, although she doesn’t really speak English, so that’s where I’m going to come in handy. It was pretty interesting because the same week I came to visit, her husband, who’s been living in Turkey for 2 years working, and who she or her children haven’t seen the whole time, came back the second day I was there. So it was a pretty crazy few days, to say the least- the arrival of the American AND the dad’s homecoming. They’ve got two little kids, a four year old and a six-year old-and he hadn’t seen them since they were toddlers-so the reuniting was pretty wild. Needless to say that for about three days there was a lot of guesting, vodka, and cake going around.
I met the other volunteers who are at my site, and they seem like cool people. There is a married couple that are finishing their service in a few weeks, so they’ll be gone by the time I get back, and another guy who is here for another year. They showed me around and helped me get oriented a little bit-the city/town is pretty big, and since there is no bus service there, I’m going to be walking A LOT. They have an English resource center that a previous volunteer set up, which is like a little haven of materials and a great place for clubs. I already promised a few people from other schools that I would work with them too, doing teacher training and exam tutoring-so instead of working with just my school, it looks like I’m going to be involved in a couple of the other schools as well. We’ll see how busy I’ll get when I start my service.
I have officially sworn off cake forever. So after four days at me new site, three of which my new host mom baked cakes for several different occasions, one being a welcome home party, and other because the in-laws came over, and other just because… I came back to Ashgabat, and it just happened to be my birthday. I had totally spaced it out, then at the office one of my training mates mentioned that his birthday had been the day before, and then somebody was like, “so what’s today?”, “the12th” and I was like, “whoa, I’m officially 25 then!” So when we bussed back to our village after our meeting, a bunch of the other volunteers chipped in and bought ANOTHER cake and we walked to our local café to eat it and get some beer. The electricity in the café was out (electricity is out a lot in this country) so the girl at the café scrounged up some candles and we had a birthday celebration by candlelight, complete with beer and meat Kabobs. (The Turkmen eating at the table next to us were pretty amused by us, as its not often a heard of foreigners show up at a random café carrying a cake and dragging suitcases) Then the next day, my Language trainer and some of my training mates bought a cake during our lunch break for the two of us who had birthdays in my group, and got us some presents! Then, to top it all off, when I tromped home after work, my host father had gone to Ashgabat and bought home ANOTHER cake, to have our own surprise ‘mini’ party that night with my host siblings.
And anyone want to make a guess at what we ate for breakfast the next morning?? Who ever said you can’t have your cake and eat it too has obviously never been to Turkmenistan. Lots and lots of cake in this country form what I can tell. I wonder if that’s why everyone has gold teeth…
All in all this whole last two weeks have been a trip. I discovered I can’t upload pictures very well due to the Internet around here, so unless I can get some printed out somewhere before December, everybody will just have to imagine Turkmenistan in your heads…That’s about it for now. Love everyone bunches!
Oh yeah, and if anyone wants to send care packages…right now I’d dig some good magazines, yarn, cooking spices, and baking powder/soda. And in December I’m getting a French press passed down from another volunteer who’s leaving, so ground coffee and French vanilla coffee mate creamer is always welcome Peace.
Meg
So this last week we did our permanent site visits. Our site announcements happened to be on the same day as the election back in the states, so our director, as soon as he found out who won, came down to the training meeting to pass out the acceptant speech. Everybody was pretty psyched (at least all the democrats of the group). It was kind of weird to be on the other side of the world when such a big thing was happening back in the States. Our director told us it was the biggest turn out at the polls since 1930 something or other-so that was pretty wild. I really would have loved to see even like 5 minutes off CNN to see when it was going down. But what can ya do.. Anyway, after all that, they gave us our placements. Come December I will be living in Tejen City, Ahal for the rest of my time here. They bussed/flew our counterparts up to meet us, and the next day we traveled with them for site visits. Half of our folks had to take a plane and/or train, cause the roads are crappy pretty much everywhere.
Tejen is going to be an interesting town-the population is about 30,000-but its not really a city besides having a big bazaar. There are 10 schools-my school has about 2,000 kids, although only about 6 English teachers. There is no infrastructure or city center, although they do have a post office, and a telegraph office. Most of the roads aren’t paved, so it feels like a big town. In fact when I was walking to work the first morning we had to chill for a little bit cause there was a huge heard of camels hogging the main street, and we had to wait till they went on their way. It was definitely an interesting morning commute, to say the least. The nearest internet place I found out is in the Capital, so I will be looking at a 2 hour taxi ride whenever I have to go in…so needless to say I won’t be checking my email that much after December. Right now I have it pretty posh cause our village is only 20 min. outside the city AND it has an Internet café. So prepare to hear from me a lot less folks The site visit was interesting, I met my new host family, who seem like cool people-although I really love my host family now-its going to be really hard to leave them. My host mom is an English teacher as well, although she doesn’t really speak English, so that’s where I’m going to come in handy. It was pretty interesting because the same week I came to visit, her husband, who’s been living in Turkey for 2 years working, and who she or her children haven’t seen the whole time, came back the second day I was there. So it was a pretty crazy few days, to say the least- the arrival of the American AND the dad’s homecoming. They’ve got two little kids, a four year old and a six-year old-and he hadn’t seen them since they were toddlers-so the reuniting was pretty wild. Needless to say that for about three days there was a lot of guesting, vodka, and cake going around.
I met the other volunteers who are at my site, and they seem like cool people. There is a married couple that are finishing their service in a few weeks, so they’ll be gone by the time I get back, and another guy who is here for another year. They showed me around and helped me get oriented a little bit-the city/town is pretty big, and since there is no bus service there, I’m going to be walking A LOT. They have an English resource center that a previous volunteer set up, which is like a little haven of materials and a great place for clubs. I already promised a few people from other schools that I would work with them too, doing teacher training and exam tutoring-so instead of working with just my school, it looks like I’m going to be involved in a couple of the other schools as well. We’ll see how busy I’ll get when I start my service.
I have officially sworn off cake forever. So after four days at me new site, three of which my new host mom baked cakes for several different occasions, one being a welcome home party, and other because the in-laws came over, and other just because… I came back to Ashgabat, and it just happened to be my birthday. I had totally spaced it out, then at the office one of my training mates mentioned that his birthday had been the day before, and then somebody was like, “so what’s today?”, “the12th” and I was like, “whoa, I’m officially 25 then!” So when we bussed back to our village after our meeting, a bunch of the other volunteers chipped in and bought ANOTHER cake and we walked to our local café to eat it and get some beer. The electricity in the café was out (electricity is out a lot in this country) so the girl at the café scrounged up some candles and we had a birthday celebration by candlelight, complete with beer and meat Kabobs. (The Turkmen eating at the table next to us were pretty amused by us, as its not often a heard of foreigners show up at a random café carrying a cake and dragging suitcases) Then the next day, my Language trainer and some of my training mates bought a cake during our lunch break for the two of us who had birthdays in my group, and got us some presents! Then, to top it all off, when I tromped home after work, my host father had gone to Ashgabat and bought home ANOTHER cake, to have our own surprise ‘mini’ party that night with my host siblings.
And anyone want to make a guess at what we ate for breakfast the next morning?? Who ever said you can’t have your cake and eat it too has obviously never been to Turkmenistan. Lots and lots of cake in this country form what I can tell. I wonder if that’s why everyone has gold teeth…
All in all this whole last two weeks have been a trip. I discovered I can’t upload pictures very well due to the Internet around here, so unless I can get some printed out somewhere before December, everybody will just have to imagine Turkmenistan in your heads…That’s about it for now. Love everyone bunches!
Oh yeah, and if anyone wants to send care packages…right now I’d dig some good magazines, yarn, cooking spices, and baking powder/soda. And in December I’m getting a French press passed down from another volunteer who’s leaving, so ground coffee and French vanilla coffee mate creamer is always welcome Peace.
Meg
Sunday, November 2, 2008
FINALLY!!!! The first in country post
Charades and Camel Milkshakes
Oct 4th
Salaam men dozum!
Hey to all from the desert. Well I am in one piece in Turkmenistan as of a few days ago. We arrived in the capital of Ashgabat after almost three days of traveling and stumbled off the plane at about 3:00 in the morning, although it didn’t make any difference as none of had slept for two days anyway and our clocks were all screwed up from 3 days of time zone switching. It was kind of a weird arrival. I had heard that Ashgabat at night is an experience-and its true. The government and monumental part of the city looks like it was built about three years ago-everything is clean white marble and gold and one-dimensional. Its due to the fact that there was a huge earthquake about 50 years ago that leveled pretty much the entire city, so there are no buildings older than that time period. It kind of looks like you just stepped into a Sim City game with all the new marble. I half expected little computer generated people to come strolling down the sidewalk and turn the corner. The president keeps in effect a strict 11:00 noise curfew, meaning in the capital of the city after about 10:00 you will see no one-and I mean NO ONE-on the streets. We stopped in the middle of the street in front of the hotel to unload our bags. It was in the middle of the city, but that didn’t matter much because we were literally the ONLY cars out and about. We were able to unload over 80 suitcases without blocking a bit of traffic. I dare anyone to try that in downtown New York on a Friday night, it probably wouldn’t go over so well.
The next three days consisted of whirlwind meetings and culture classes at a conference building, learning about our schedules, job preparation, beginning language courses, and getting some more shots (oh joy...). We took a trip to the Russian Bazaar to pick up some last minute things (although it was mostly so we could try out our new language skillz on the shop vendors). My proud purchase was a power surge protector for my computer for 85,000 manats-which is about 6$. We started at about 8 every morning, and were done by about 6 every night. I wish I could say we passed out every night, but all of our internal clocks were so whacked that nobody was really sleeping very well. On Saturday we had one last minute session with our instructors, signed on names on about the hundredth piece of paperwork, and returned to the hotel to meet our host families!! It was pretty nerve wracking-and we were all freaking out.
I now live in a village about half an hour outside of Ashgabat. I’m thinking I lucked out because my host family is pretty much adorable, and I love their home. We have two houses, a bathhouse, a small garden, a chicken coop, and small lime orchard, and the obligatory squat toilet. They are pretty wealthy for Turkmen standards, and are pretty crafty when it comes to money. The father was an economist, but now works for a Turkish firm in the capital, and the mother is a nurse who works at an epidemic sanitation center in the village (I think that means vaccinations). They have a small shop they run from the front of their house, where they sell odds and ends like vegetables, bread, toiletries, cigarettes and coca cola. Jennet, which means paradise in Turkmen, is 16 and the oldest of the three kids. She is studying to be an English teacher and will start university in Ashgabat next year. Needless to say my Turkmen language skills being what they are right now, she is my new best friend. She is also a seamstress, and I’ve convinced her to make me a yakacoynek (a traditional embroidered dress) for a wedding we have to go to in a week. By’ran is the middle son, and so far loves cheating in all the card games I have taught him and laughing at me whenever I try to pronounce Turkmen words. Mamajan is the youngest of the three, and I call her “men gyz jigim kazyk”- my little Kazak sister. She looks a lot different from her siblings and my host mom says she looks like she’s from Kazakhstan but doesn’t know why, although I personally think she looks kind of Chinese. I tried telling them the joke about the postman baby, but I don’t think they really got it. I’m blaming that on cultural differences and a language barrier, and not the fact that I’m pretty bad at telling jokes.
Our schedule for the next few weeks is pretty intense-tomorrow we go to mosque because it is the Memorial Day for the earthquake that leveled Ashgabat (I talked about that earlier I think.) It’s a pretty big deal, so we’re wrapping ourselves up in scarves and hustling off for a ‘culture lesson’- and then we have to start our 4-hour language classes.
Last note of happiness-a whole week has past and I am still spared from the revered Montezuma’s Revenge. The T-16 volunteers (Peace Corps volunteers that have been here in T-stan about a year now) told us it hits everybody within the 1st 72 hours, and I made it past the window. They were right to, because on the third day a bunch of my fellow T-17’s started dropping like flies. Lets just say there were a few empty seats and lots of sprints for the bathroom our last day of training. So far, so good, although I did have a near brush with disaster when my host mother tried to give me a traditional drink of Chal. Chal, for those of you who aren’t already aware, consists of fresh camel yogurt, water, and salt...stir, shake and pour…MMMM! I had to desperately explain to her I couldn’t drink the tap water because it would possibly KILL me with all its invisible floating parasites (haha). So they tossed out the bad Chal and made me my very own mix with water from my purifier. So yeah, that was fun.
Word to the wise-camel yogurt and salt water does not make the greatest beverage in the world. Stick to your raspberry mocha latte’s people, and tip your barista.
Peace.
BMW’s and Icebergs
Oct 8, 08
So I’m regretting the fact that I suppressed my urge to pack more shoes. They advised us to bring four pairs -of the work, house, and recreational variety-and so I did. I narrowed them down and whittled them out, which was not easy, being as I’m really attached to many and/or all of my shoes. But I said to myself “Self, don’t be an idiot-you’ll be living in the desert. What in the Bajeezus do you need with 13 pairs of shoes in the desert??” So I did it. First it was 11, then 7, then 5….and then the final 4. My beloved Chacos, a pair of running shoes, my house slippers (key in any Muslim country where shoes aren’t allowed in the house and you’re constantly running in and out), and a pair of work shoes.
However I didn’t count on the fact that pretty much all of my walking would be done in my work shoes as we have to dress up for work everyday. And that I would live a half an hour’s walk from the school. Today I think I walked about 8 or 9 miles in them due to the fact that my house is waaay out there, and we did lots of “ errands” in town (i.e. shopping and the post office) as a group to kill time before language classes. By the end of the day my heels had pretty much had it, and were coated in layers of well-earned dust. And I was left wondering how many more months they have left in them before they start disintegrating. It’s not looking good at this point. I wonder what the policy on wearing hiking books to work is here. I’m betting they would look charming with my dress.
Well, I finally succumbed to my first bout of stomach woes. Remembrance day we went to a Mosque outside of the city with our group for some ‘quake history’. I wasn’t feeling so hot when I woke up, but I ate to make my host mom happy because she’s so nice. While we were at the mosque we ate a big spread that people were laying out, stock full of some interesting and dubious food items. And as the entire kitchen staff was watching us, we did the best we could to polish off the massive amounts of food they keep trucking out. After we ate we were informed by our language teachers that no, that was not lunch. Lunch would be in an hour, and we had to eat that too. When I got home that evening my host mother didn’t seem to understand that a stomachache was excusable grounds for not eating, so I obligingly shoveled more food down my throat. Lets just say I’m glad they gave us a medical kit and that our pit toilet is of a sprint-able distance.
I have been keeping a running tally of the strange things I have seen so far. One thing I love about traveling to different countries is the random things that you see or do…it makes getting up every day just that much more fun. For instance just yesterday my fellow Americans and I decided to walk to the bazaar for some ice cream. While we were hanging out, we met this nice chap who worked in the bar next door and with much pantomiming, he invited us back into this back room where I saw the LARGEST billiard table I have ever seen in my life. Now this might not seem that strange, but keep in mind that I am living in a desert-where the nearest harvest-able tree is the next country over. For this reason most everybody traditionally sits, eats, and sleeps on the floor, and generally have only one or two pieces of furniture in their houses. Wood is THAT expensive. So to see a 15-foot long mahogany billiard table in the back of a dive bar in a Turkmen village is literally like seeing a BMW parked on a floating iceberg in the North Pole. Guess you never know what to expect. But I must say I’m enjoying the everyday oddities, like the pair of camels that hang out by the water tower on my walk home from class everyday. I’ve decided to name them Ali and Muhammad. You just don’t see camels like that too often in Montana. Well, hope all is well on the other side of the globe and let me know you all ya’ll are doing!!
Oct 9, 08
Trek to Ashgabat
So week two at our training site is coming to a close. We went to Ashgabat yesterday to get some more shots, medical checkups, and some Internet time. It was kind of a bummer cause we got there late, partly due to me and one of my group mates. They had told us meet at the Bazaar so I made it there, and saw no one except one of my other site mates. We hung out for a while and were pretty confused because no one else was showing up. We were just on the verge of getting a taxi when one of the group leaders turned up, all frantic-like, looking for us. Turns out everybody had been waiting in the Peace Corps van on the OTHER side of the Bazaar and were almost about to ditch us. Don’t know how we missed that memo. So we got to Ashgabat late and it was a little hectic running around the Peace Corps office and getting all our crap done in time. Towards the end some other trainees from other sites showed up and we had a fun whirlwind reunion, catching up with a few people and swapping stories of our sites and host families before we were herded out. I was kind of bummed cause I had saved all my blog entries on a flash drive and the file wouldn’t read on the office computer, so these probably won’t get downloaded for a WHILE. I’m hoping someday soon we can get access to a computer...but I guess this is one way of weaning me off the technical world. I suppose I better just get used to it and start writing some friggen letters to people…
So the Peace Corps office is pretty sweet and they have a killer library of books left by 10 years of volunteers, so my decision to not bring any books totally paid off. I loaded up on a few before we headed out. Although with all the work we’ve been doing I don’t know when I’ll have time to read any of them. It seems like I’m busy every morning from the time I wake up (at like 6) to when my head hits the pillow every night (around 10 or 11). And the down time I do have I like hanging out with my host family, because they help me with my Turkmen and I can play with the kids (plus they won’t think I’m a weirdo who hangs out in her room all the time). Looking at our schedule, it’s looking like its only going to get busier. A lot of trainees did say that training was the hardest part, and if we can get past that, its cake. Although some others said that was the easiest, most fun time of their service. So we’ll see how the crow lands on that one.
Well I have oodles more to talk about, one of them being the school, which we finally got to go to and meet all the English teachers and the kids, but I’m pretty beat. I’ll elaborate about that on a future date. Peace.
Oct 27th, 08
Social Gymnastics
Well, it’s on to week five now. It’s weird to think I’ve already been here a month, although at the same time it feels like I’ve been here for years. It’s the break between the school trimesters, so the kids have a week off school. We had our day camp scheduled for the break, so for two whole days we took over the school and herded children for half a day of “Inglis Klub”. Its basically part of our practicum to get us ready for out permanent site, so we can get an idea of what to expect when we have to set up clubs at our individual sites. Ours went relatively smoothly, the only bump in the road was that one of the girls in my training group announced that she had decided to terminate early and go home. It was a pretty big shock for everyone, as the six of us have all gotten to be pretty close (we see each other pretty much all day, every day) so it shook everybody up a little bit when she left. But she had thought about it a lot, and made the decision that was best for herself. So we trucked on and pulled the planning together, and our club went pretty well (if you define successful as being able to entertain 40 middle schoolers for several hours with the vocabulary spectrum of a confused toddler). Most of the kids were awesome and super enthusiastic, and made it that much easier and fun for us. So now we’re enjoying having a few days off for ourselves the chill out with our host families before the next trimester starts, which is nice because our schedule has been pretty ridged up to this point-10 hour days, 6 days a week. I actually slept in until 9:00 this morning! (A far cry from Spain where it was WEIRD if you woke up before noon on the weekends) To think, this time last year I was probably hanging out at a wine bar in Granada somewhere putting my feet up….
So today was Byramchylk (Turkmen independence day), so I went in to Ashgabat with a friend to watch firecrackers. I’m starting to experiences the first boundaries of a Muslim culture. I’m used to being able to hang out with whomever I want, but here I’m learning I have to be a lot more aware of who that may be. In the states I always had a pretty good group of guys friends as a norm, but here whenever my site mates, most of whom are guys, stop by and want to hang out I have to make clear to everyone where we are going and why, and that we are just BUDDIES. I haven’t had to explain my schedule The first day I walked home alone with one of them, by the next afternoon it had somehow made it through the town grapevine that we were “together” whatever that means by Turkmen standards. And today I went to Ashgabat with another site mate, also a boy, and came back after dark. So, by Turkmen standards, right now I am probably one step above a street walker (a.k.a “loose woman”.) Just wait till I start running. In PANTS. That’s going to blow their minds. My poor host family. But I say bring it on, gender boundaries. Bring it on. I’m ready for ya.
Hope everyone is doing well and keep those marvelous letters coming! Ashley, we miss you and are thinking about you!
P.S. I will have some pictures up just as soon as I am able
Oct 4th
Salaam men dozum!
Hey to all from the desert. Well I am in one piece in Turkmenistan as of a few days ago. We arrived in the capital of Ashgabat after almost three days of traveling and stumbled off the plane at about 3:00 in the morning, although it didn’t make any difference as none of had slept for two days anyway and our clocks were all screwed up from 3 days of time zone switching. It was kind of a weird arrival. I had heard that Ashgabat at night is an experience-and its true. The government and monumental part of the city looks like it was built about three years ago-everything is clean white marble and gold and one-dimensional. Its due to the fact that there was a huge earthquake about 50 years ago that leveled pretty much the entire city, so there are no buildings older than that time period. It kind of looks like you just stepped into a Sim City game with all the new marble. I half expected little computer generated people to come strolling down the sidewalk and turn the corner. The president keeps in effect a strict 11:00 noise curfew, meaning in the capital of the city after about 10:00 you will see no one-and I mean NO ONE-on the streets. We stopped in the middle of the street in front of the hotel to unload our bags. It was in the middle of the city, but that didn’t matter much because we were literally the ONLY cars out and about. We were able to unload over 80 suitcases without blocking a bit of traffic. I dare anyone to try that in downtown New York on a Friday night, it probably wouldn’t go over so well.
The next three days consisted of whirlwind meetings and culture classes at a conference building, learning about our schedules, job preparation, beginning language courses, and getting some more shots (oh joy...). We took a trip to the Russian Bazaar to pick up some last minute things (although it was mostly so we could try out our new language skillz on the shop vendors). My proud purchase was a power surge protector for my computer for 85,000 manats-which is about 6$. We started at about 8 every morning, and were done by about 6 every night. I wish I could say we passed out every night, but all of our internal clocks were so whacked that nobody was really sleeping very well. On Saturday we had one last minute session with our instructors, signed on names on about the hundredth piece of paperwork, and returned to the hotel to meet our host families!! It was pretty nerve wracking-and we were all freaking out.
I now live in a village about half an hour outside of Ashgabat. I’m thinking I lucked out because my host family is pretty much adorable, and I love their home. We have two houses, a bathhouse, a small garden, a chicken coop, and small lime orchard, and the obligatory squat toilet. They are pretty wealthy for Turkmen standards, and are pretty crafty when it comes to money. The father was an economist, but now works for a Turkish firm in the capital, and the mother is a nurse who works at an epidemic sanitation center in the village (I think that means vaccinations). They have a small shop they run from the front of their house, where they sell odds and ends like vegetables, bread, toiletries, cigarettes and coca cola. Jennet, which means paradise in Turkmen, is 16 and the oldest of the three kids. She is studying to be an English teacher and will start university in Ashgabat next year. Needless to say my Turkmen language skills being what they are right now, she is my new best friend. She is also a seamstress, and I’ve convinced her to make me a yakacoynek (a traditional embroidered dress) for a wedding we have to go to in a week. By’ran is the middle son, and so far loves cheating in all the card games I have taught him and laughing at me whenever I try to pronounce Turkmen words. Mamajan is the youngest of the three, and I call her “men gyz jigim kazyk”- my little Kazak sister. She looks a lot different from her siblings and my host mom says she looks like she’s from Kazakhstan but doesn’t know why, although I personally think she looks kind of Chinese. I tried telling them the joke about the postman baby, but I don’t think they really got it. I’m blaming that on cultural differences and a language barrier, and not the fact that I’m pretty bad at telling jokes.
Our schedule for the next few weeks is pretty intense-tomorrow we go to mosque because it is the Memorial Day for the earthquake that leveled Ashgabat (I talked about that earlier I think.) It’s a pretty big deal, so we’re wrapping ourselves up in scarves and hustling off for a ‘culture lesson’- and then we have to start our 4-hour language classes.
Last note of happiness-a whole week has past and I am still spared from the revered Montezuma’s Revenge. The T-16 volunteers (Peace Corps volunteers that have been here in T-stan about a year now) told us it hits everybody within the 1st 72 hours, and I made it past the window. They were right to, because on the third day a bunch of my fellow T-17’s started dropping like flies. Lets just say there were a few empty seats and lots of sprints for the bathroom our last day of training. So far, so good, although I did have a near brush with disaster when my host mother tried to give me a traditional drink of Chal. Chal, for those of you who aren’t already aware, consists of fresh camel yogurt, water, and salt...stir, shake and pour…MMMM! I had to desperately explain to her I couldn’t drink the tap water because it would possibly KILL me with all its invisible floating parasites (haha). So they tossed out the bad Chal and made me my very own mix with water from my purifier. So yeah, that was fun.
Word to the wise-camel yogurt and salt water does not make the greatest beverage in the world. Stick to your raspberry mocha latte’s people, and tip your barista.
Peace.
BMW’s and Icebergs
Oct 8, 08
So I’m regretting the fact that I suppressed my urge to pack more shoes. They advised us to bring four pairs -of the work, house, and recreational variety-and so I did. I narrowed them down and whittled them out, which was not easy, being as I’m really attached to many and/or all of my shoes. But I said to myself “Self, don’t be an idiot-you’ll be living in the desert. What in the Bajeezus do you need with 13 pairs of shoes in the desert??” So I did it. First it was 11, then 7, then 5….and then the final 4. My beloved Chacos, a pair of running shoes, my house slippers (key in any Muslim country where shoes aren’t allowed in the house and you’re constantly running in and out), and a pair of work shoes.
However I didn’t count on the fact that pretty much all of my walking would be done in my work shoes as we have to dress up for work everyday. And that I would live a half an hour’s walk from the school. Today I think I walked about 8 or 9 miles in them due to the fact that my house is waaay out there, and we did lots of “ errands” in town (i.e. shopping and the post office) as a group to kill time before language classes. By the end of the day my heels had pretty much had it, and were coated in layers of well-earned dust. And I was left wondering how many more months they have left in them before they start disintegrating. It’s not looking good at this point. I wonder what the policy on wearing hiking books to work is here. I’m betting they would look charming with my dress.
Well, I finally succumbed to my first bout of stomach woes. Remembrance day we went to a Mosque outside of the city with our group for some ‘quake history’. I wasn’t feeling so hot when I woke up, but I ate to make my host mom happy because she’s so nice. While we were at the mosque we ate a big spread that people were laying out, stock full of some interesting and dubious food items. And as the entire kitchen staff was watching us, we did the best we could to polish off the massive amounts of food they keep trucking out. After we ate we were informed by our language teachers that no, that was not lunch. Lunch would be in an hour, and we had to eat that too. When I got home that evening my host mother didn’t seem to understand that a stomachache was excusable grounds for not eating, so I obligingly shoveled more food down my throat. Lets just say I’m glad they gave us a medical kit and that our pit toilet is of a sprint-able distance.
I have been keeping a running tally of the strange things I have seen so far. One thing I love about traveling to different countries is the random things that you see or do…it makes getting up every day just that much more fun. For instance just yesterday my fellow Americans and I decided to walk to the bazaar for some ice cream. While we were hanging out, we met this nice chap who worked in the bar next door and with much pantomiming, he invited us back into this back room where I saw the LARGEST billiard table I have ever seen in my life. Now this might not seem that strange, but keep in mind that I am living in a desert-where the nearest harvest-able tree is the next country over. For this reason most everybody traditionally sits, eats, and sleeps on the floor, and generally have only one or two pieces of furniture in their houses. Wood is THAT expensive. So to see a 15-foot long mahogany billiard table in the back of a dive bar in a Turkmen village is literally like seeing a BMW parked on a floating iceberg in the North Pole. Guess you never know what to expect. But I must say I’m enjoying the everyday oddities, like the pair of camels that hang out by the water tower on my walk home from class everyday. I’ve decided to name them Ali and Muhammad. You just don’t see camels like that too often in Montana. Well, hope all is well on the other side of the globe and let me know you all ya’ll are doing!!
Oct 9, 08
Trek to Ashgabat
So week two at our training site is coming to a close. We went to Ashgabat yesterday to get some more shots, medical checkups, and some Internet time. It was kind of a bummer cause we got there late, partly due to me and one of my group mates. They had told us meet at the Bazaar so I made it there, and saw no one except one of my other site mates. We hung out for a while and were pretty confused because no one else was showing up. We were just on the verge of getting a taxi when one of the group leaders turned up, all frantic-like, looking for us. Turns out everybody had been waiting in the Peace Corps van on the OTHER side of the Bazaar and were almost about to ditch us. Don’t know how we missed that memo. So we got to Ashgabat late and it was a little hectic running around the Peace Corps office and getting all our crap done in time. Towards the end some other trainees from other sites showed up and we had a fun whirlwind reunion, catching up with a few people and swapping stories of our sites and host families before we were herded out. I was kind of bummed cause I had saved all my blog entries on a flash drive and the file wouldn’t read on the office computer, so these probably won’t get downloaded for a WHILE. I’m hoping someday soon we can get access to a computer...but I guess this is one way of weaning me off the technical world. I suppose I better just get used to it and start writing some friggen letters to people…
So the Peace Corps office is pretty sweet and they have a killer library of books left by 10 years of volunteers, so my decision to not bring any books totally paid off. I loaded up on a few before we headed out. Although with all the work we’ve been doing I don’t know when I’ll have time to read any of them. It seems like I’m busy every morning from the time I wake up (at like 6) to when my head hits the pillow every night (around 10 or 11). And the down time I do have I like hanging out with my host family, because they help me with my Turkmen and I can play with the kids (plus they won’t think I’m a weirdo who hangs out in her room all the time). Looking at our schedule, it’s looking like its only going to get busier. A lot of trainees did say that training was the hardest part, and if we can get past that, its cake. Although some others said that was the easiest, most fun time of their service. So we’ll see how the crow lands on that one.
Well I have oodles more to talk about, one of them being the school, which we finally got to go to and meet all the English teachers and the kids, but I’m pretty beat. I’ll elaborate about that on a future date. Peace.
Oct 27th, 08
Social Gymnastics
Well, it’s on to week five now. It’s weird to think I’ve already been here a month, although at the same time it feels like I’ve been here for years. It’s the break between the school trimesters, so the kids have a week off school. We had our day camp scheduled for the break, so for two whole days we took over the school and herded children for half a day of “Inglis Klub”. Its basically part of our practicum to get us ready for out permanent site, so we can get an idea of what to expect when we have to set up clubs at our individual sites. Ours went relatively smoothly, the only bump in the road was that one of the girls in my training group announced that she had decided to terminate early and go home. It was a pretty big shock for everyone, as the six of us have all gotten to be pretty close (we see each other pretty much all day, every day) so it shook everybody up a little bit when she left. But she had thought about it a lot, and made the decision that was best for herself. So we trucked on and pulled the planning together, and our club went pretty well (if you define successful as being able to entertain 40 middle schoolers for several hours with the vocabulary spectrum of a confused toddler). Most of the kids were awesome and super enthusiastic, and made it that much easier and fun for us. So now we’re enjoying having a few days off for ourselves the chill out with our host families before the next trimester starts, which is nice because our schedule has been pretty ridged up to this point-10 hour days, 6 days a week. I actually slept in until 9:00 this morning! (A far cry from Spain where it was WEIRD if you woke up before noon on the weekends) To think, this time last year I was probably hanging out at a wine bar in Granada somewhere putting my feet up….
So today was Byramchylk (Turkmen independence day), so I went in to Ashgabat with a friend to watch firecrackers. I’m starting to experiences the first boundaries of a Muslim culture. I’m used to being able to hang out with whomever I want, but here I’m learning I have to be a lot more aware of who that may be. In the states I always had a pretty good group of guys friends as a norm, but here whenever my site mates, most of whom are guys, stop by and want to hang out I have to make clear to everyone where we are going and why, and that we are just BUDDIES. I haven’t had to explain my schedule The first day I walked home alone with one of them, by the next afternoon it had somehow made it through the town grapevine that we were “together” whatever that means by Turkmen standards. And today I went to Ashgabat with another site mate, also a boy, and came back after dark. So, by Turkmen standards, right now I am probably one step above a street walker (a.k.a “loose woman”.) Just wait till I start running. In PANTS. That’s going to blow their minds. My poor host family. But I say bring it on, gender boundaries. Bring it on. I’m ready for ya.
Hope everyone is doing well and keep those marvelous letters coming! Ashley, we miss you and are thinking about you!
P.S. I will have some pictures up just as soon as I am able
Saturday, September 27, 2008
other address...
Also, here's the Turkmen-ish version of my address:
Türkmenistan Asgabat, 744000
Merkezi poçta
abonent 258, Krugozor
Parahatçylyk Korpusy, Türkmenistan
Megan Haggar, PCT
TÜRKMENISTAN
Türkmenistan Asgabat, 744000
Merkezi poçta
abonent 258, Krugozor
Parahatçylyk Korpusy, Türkmenistan
Megan Haggar, PCT
TÜRKMENISTAN
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