The name of my last post "Last Weekend of Fun" sounds so final, like I'll never have another one. Things to write about come a little slower now that I'm back in familiar territory, but I feel like I've come back with a full cup. I'm nicer and less anxious. Ditto for my cat, Mr. Gursky. It's like I'm living with a different creature. Maybe, just maybe, he was reflecting my nuttiness? He wants and has to go out and explore every day at the same time. It seems like my needs are not so different. And five years was a little too long for me not to "go out".
Apologies to my mother for this need of mine. She called me on my layover in Chicago and her first question was, "Are you back on U.S. soil?" My dad is a little more subtle. While I waited in Chicago, he called me on his way home from work, like he often does, just to catch up and tell me that, per the usual, we'd meet up somewhere for dinner on Tuesday night. He'd be in touch. Bless them for trying to be supportive. They had no idea when I was a teenager and bristling under their boundaries, how far I was itching to go. Neither did I.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Last Weekend of Fun
Food delivered to our topchan.
Our Topchan near the river in Varzob.
Varzob
Our lovely tour guide at Hissar. The unibrow works for her, no?
View at Hissar Fortress. Central Asia or Central Utah?
Brides and Bread
A bowing bride
Hissar Fortress
Making bread at the tea house. Bless her. She has to lean over a hot oven even in the summer.
The Ladies at the tea house.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Grand Love
Another of my favorite lady travellers: Beryl de Zoete -- "Married in 1902, she and her husband Basil de Selincourt practiced celibacy and vegetarianism. She knew that her marriage had broken down when her husband brought home another woman and began eating beefsteak." So she started to travel.
A strong argument against marital celibacy would be the number of times I heard about the influence of a grandparent this summer.
First, there was my neighbor on the flight from Istanbul to Dushanbe. He was traveling for work with a medical supply company that had an office in Dushanbe. His tales of being in Dushanbe three years before included washing his hair with bottled water and no electricity. When I asked him if he thought it was better now, he said, "Let's see." with a cat-like grin on his face. (For the record, I experienced none of that.) He'd grown up in Holland and then immigrated back to Lebanon as a teenager with his family, gone to Canada for school, and then moved to Belgium for work. When he learned I was from the U.S., he said his grandfather had gone to Michigan around the time of World War II, leaving his family in Lebanon. He worked there for seventeen years sending money home and trying to earn enough to bring them to the U.S, but he died before he could. My row-mate said he still had letters his grandfather had sent, and that now his own sister lived in Michigan. So in a way, the family made it there after all.
Mimi told me early on about her grandmother. We were waiting at a carwash cafe sipping on Sprite at a little table with cages of blue and yellow parakeets behind us. The mist from the hoses brought little puffs of relief from the heat. Mimi smokes long, thin cigarettes that smell like apples; she's always careful to blow the smoke away from me, but when the wind picks it up and brings it back on occasion, it's like sitting in a cloud of potpourri. She likes to practice her English as much as possible so I told her I'd show her how I wanted to start my first class using pictures of my family to introduce myself. She listened and then started to share about her own family in an unbroken narrative like she'd been waiting for the chance. Her mother and father had always worked. Her mother had run the only local movie theater during Soviet times. This left Mimi to care for her sister, who was 9 years younger. It was her grandmother, she said, who had taught her to be a good person, to be polite, not to show anger, and this one sticks out, not to scream during labor.
Ella's grandfather helped her get a driver's license. And when she couldn't agree with her father on what to study in college (her choice was architecture), she got a job instead at a grocery store so she didn't have to study something she didn't want to. And it was her grandfather who would push his grocery cart over near the fish counter to watch her from a distance with pride.
A strong argument against marital celibacy would be the number of times I heard about the influence of a grandparent this summer.
First, there was my neighbor on the flight from Istanbul to Dushanbe. He was traveling for work with a medical supply company that had an office in Dushanbe. His tales of being in Dushanbe three years before included washing his hair with bottled water and no electricity. When I asked him if he thought it was better now, he said, "Let's see." with a cat-like grin on his face. (For the record, I experienced none of that.) He'd grown up in Holland and then immigrated back to Lebanon as a teenager with his family, gone to Canada for school, and then moved to Belgium for work. When he learned I was from the U.S., he said his grandfather had gone to Michigan around the time of World War II, leaving his family in Lebanon. He worked there for seventeen years sending money home and trying to earn enough to bring them to the U.S, but he died before he could. My row-mate said he still had letters his grandfather had sent, and that now his own sister lived in Michigan. So in a way, the family made it there after all.
Mimi told me early on about her grandmother. We were waiting at a carwash cafe sipping on Sprite at a little table with cages of blue and yellow parakeets behind us. The mist from the hoses brought little puffs of relief from the heat. Mimi smokes long, thin cigarettes that smell like apples; she's always careful to blow the smoke away from me, but when the wind picks it up and brings it back on occasion, it's like sitting in a cloud of potpourri. She likes to practice her English as much as possible so I told her I'd show her how I wanted to start my first class using pictures of my family to introduce myself. She listened and then started to share about her own family in an unbroken narrative like she'd been waiting for the chance. Her mother and father had always worked. Her mother had run the only local movie theater during Soviet times. This left Mimi to care for her sister, who was 9 years younger. It was her grandmother, she said, who had taught her to be a good person, to be polite, not to show anger, and this one sticks out, not to scream during labor.
Ella's grandfather helped her get a driver's license. And when she couldn't agree with her father on what to study in college (her choice was architecture), she got a job instead at a grocery store so she didn't have to study something she didn't want to. And it was her grandfather who would push his grocery cart over near the fish counter to watch her from a distance with pride.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Reappearance
I will post more photos soon from my adventure.
Once upon a time, the thought of turning 30 at home was repellant to me. Luckily, I had a friend living in London, so I didn't have to. While wandering one day around the city, I happened upon an exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery called "Off the Beaten Track--Three Centuries of Women Travellers." There were portraits of the women themselves, some dressed as men or in native dress so they could travel in dangerous places incognito. There were sketches or photographs of the places they'd been. Many had traveled with their husbands and others had used it as an escape from bad marriages, spinsterhood, or Victorian society. One of my favorites is Isabella Bird. In the book I bought of the exhibit, it says, "Isabella Bird started travelling in her early twenties. Her first journeys, to North America, were undertaken to relieve her spinal problems and other illnesses. These mysteriously vanished when she went abroad, but reappeared each time she returned."
I have brought home with me a cold. This is not a reappearance of a previous illness, but as always there is a little let down now that I'm home. I wonder if this counts as "other illnesses." At least I know the remedy.
Should I segue this into a normal blog? "Utah and Deliver" doesn't quite have the same ring to it, but maybe I'll try.
Once upon a time, the thought of turning 30 at home was repellant to me. Luckily, I had a friend living in London, so I didn't have to. While wandering one day around the city, I happened upon an exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery called "Off the Beaten Track--Three Centuries of Women Travellers." There were portraits of the women themselves, some dressed as men or in native dress so they could travel in dangerous places incognito. There were sketches or photographs of the places they'd been. Many had traveled with their husbands and others had used it as an escape from bad marriages, spinsterhood, or Victorian society. One of my favorites is Isabella Bird. In the book I bought of the exhibit, it says, "Isabella Bird started travelling in her early twenties. Her first journeys, to North America, were undertaken to relieve her spinal problems and other illnesses. These mysteriously vanished when she went abroad, but reappeared each time she returned."
I have brought home with me a cold. This is not a reappearance of a previous illness, but as always there is a little let down now that I'm home. I wonder if this counts as "other illnesses." At least I know the remedy.
Should I segue this into a normal blog? "Utah and Deliver" doesn't quite have the same ring to it, but maybe I'll try.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Tap Water and Peanut Butter
One of my students, a border guard, checked my passport for my flight out of Dushanbe at 5:20am (no wonder he was always yawning, red-eyed, and then had stopped coming altogether). He didn't see me until I handed it to him, and then he lost his professional face for a brief second. While typing my name into the computer with his two index fingers he said, "Air-een" with a smirk and then I got a, "Goodbye!" While shuttling on the tarmac to the plane, I noticed three huge helicopters and wondered if these were the ones flown by my gift-giving, test-missing student.
I made it home. I was starting to wonder if the little pouches of socks, toothbrushes, eye covers, and lip balm provided on Turkish Airlines flights were more for the sake of precaution (just in case your luggage doesn't show up, here are some things you might need) than luxury, but after waiting just long enough to start composing my conversation with the airline people in my head, my bags did arrive.
This morning I hear pieces of conversations and voices of friends, Ella's gestures as she uses her hands to punctuate what she's saying like she's Italian or something, and Mimi's half wry grin as she remarks on something less than remarkable. All indications that it's not just my luggage that has come home with me.
I made it home. I was starting to wonder if the little pouches of socks, toothbrushes, eye covers, and lip balm provided on Turkish Airlines flights were more for the sake of precaution (just in case your luggage doesn't show up, here are some things you might need) than luxury, but after waiting just long enough to start composing my conversation with the airline people in my head, my bags did arrive.
This morning I hear pieces of conversations and voices of friends, Ella's gestures as she uses her hands to punctuate what she's saying like she's Italian or something, and Mimi's half wry grin as she remarks on something less than remarkable. All indications that it's not just my luggage that has come home with me.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Calculated Risks
At the green bazaar a few days ago, there were fresh raspberries and blackberries for sale. Some had been juiced and the deep purple juice put into big open bowls for sampling. Buying a drink from a vendor and using a shared glass is normal for the locals but as you can imagine, risky business for visitors. So I watched with a little disbelief as a backpack-ladened tourist sampled this juice from a vendor's glass, even catching a sneaky little dribble that had escaped and run down the outside. I realized Ella was watching too when we both gasped at the same time.
When I left home, I admit to some last minute nerves in the taxi going to the airport. To my ears, it still sounded so....strange that I was going to Tajikistan, but I hugged the cat, turned the key, looked around and thought, "See you in about 18,000 miles." I only hope that tourist's risk turned out as well as mine. But I doubt it.
When I left home, I admit to some last minute nerves in the taxi going to the airport. To my ears, it still sounded so....strange that I was going to Tajikistan, but I hugged the cat, turned the key, looked around and thought, "See you in about 18,000 miles." I only hope that tourist's risk turned out as well as mine. But I doubt it.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
STOP
Friday
1. Rohat Teahouse to meet the ladies for lunch. On the way, I realized a white road sign with black trim said, "Stop." My first two words deciphered in the beauty isle at the grocery store last week turned out to be shampoo and creme (aka lotion). Thank you, thank you very much. This month has been a fascinating reminder of how we process new language: time, silent period, immersion, connecting new information to existing knowledge, context, visual cues, authentic materials? Yes.
2. At the tea house I finally tried Osh, the national dish of Tajikistan. It's rice, carrots, chick peas, and meat. Nice and hearty. Met the illusive Gundina, Ella's friend, co-worker, and character extraordinaire.
3. Got my visa renewed at the airport. I will be legal my last three days.
4. Went out dancing with the ladies. I brought one pair of high heels and they didn't go to waste. We went to a Georgian restaurant, where there was a live singer and belly dancers. We ate and danced Tajik style (it's all in the arms). So much fun to watch Mimi, her friend, and Gundina let loose. Ella, too, when her favorite Tajik song came on. We were the only ones dancing and applauding the belly dancers and singer, and we were the only table of women. Gundina called the table of men behind us impotent for their tepid response to all of it. Maybe not tepid, but delayed. As we left, two followed us out and offered to give all five of us a ride. We refused, of course, and crossed the street to find a taxi. Our delayed responders swung around and made another attempt, but Gundina, the ex-police officer, wilted them with a glare. We rode home in a Chinese minivan embellished with purple interior lights.
Saturday
1. Woke up early to work on my final report.
2. Got a phone call from Ella around 9am that Mimi had planned a day for us, and she'd pick us up in 45 minutes. We'd go to an ancient fortress outside of Dushanbe (Yes! Outside the city!) and then back to Varzob for BBQ and lounging on platforms (topchan) near the river. Outside of the city, my ealier impression was confirmed. It looks a lot like Central Utah. The whole area is located in a large, dusty valley that's farmed and surrounded by tall dry mountains. Poplar trees give a little shade. Mimi spent part of our drive time giving me advice about men, which started because our car and driver were lent to us by her ex-husband. In short, and I quote directly, her message was, "A man will feel like a treasure if he spends money on you." The way she explained it, I can kind of see her point. While at the fortress, several wedding caravans passed by. The poor bride gets paraded around town accompanied by family, friends, drums, flutes and her new husband, while she bows continuously in humility. Mimi could give her a piece of advice or two.
3. Back to Dushanbe for a little rest. Then on to Dee's for Ella's homemade pizza and one last dinner with the INL crew. They're all sure I'm coming back.
1. Rohat Teahouse to meet the ladies for lunch. On the way, I realized a white road sign with black trim said, "Stop." My first two words deciphered in the beauty isle at the grocery store last week turned out to be shampoo and creme (aka lotion). Thank you, thank you very much. This month has been a fascinating reminder of how we process new language: time, silent period, immersion, connecting new information to existing knowledge, context, visual cues, authentic materials? Yes.
2. At the tea house I finally tried Osh, the national dish of Tajikistan. It's rice, carrots, chick peas, and meat. Nice and hearty. Met the illusive Gundina, Ella's friend, co-worker, and character extraordinaire.
3. Got my visa renewed at the airport. I will be legal my last three days.
4. Went out dancing with the ladies. I brought one pair of high heels and they didn't go to waste. We went to a Georgian restaurant, where there was a live singer and belly dancers. We ate and danced Tajik style (it's all in the arms). So much fun to watch Mimi, her friend, and Gundina let loose. Ella, too, when her favorite Tajik song came on. We were the only ones dancing and applauding the belly dancers and singer, and we were the only table of women. Gundina called the table of men behind us impotent for their tepid response to all of it. Maybe not tepid, but delayed. As we left, two followed us out and offered to give all five of us a ride. We refused, of course, and crossed the street to find a taxi. Our delayed responders swung around and made another attempt, but Gundina, the ex-police officer, wilted them with a glare. We rode home in a Chinese minivan embellished with purple interior lights.
Saturday
1. Woke up early to work on my final report.
2. Got a phone call from Ella around 9am that Mimi had planned a day for us, and she'd pick us up in 45 minutes. We'd go to an ancient fortress outside of Dushanbe (Yes! Outside the city!) and then back to Varzob for BBQ and lounging on platforms (topchan) near the river. Outside of the city, my ealier impression was confirmed. It looks a lot like Central Utah. The whole area is located in a large, dusty valley that's farmed and surrounded by tall dry mountains. Poplar trees give a little shade. Mimi spent part of our drive time giving me advice about men, which started because our car and driver were lent to us by her ex-husband. In short, and I quote directly, her message was, "A man will feel like a treasure if he spends money on you." The way she explained it, I can kind of see her point. While at the fortress, several wedding caravans passed by. The poor bride gets paraded around town accompanied by family, friends, drums, flutes and her new husband, while she bows continuously in humility. Mimi could give her a piece of advice or two.
3. Back to Dushanbe for a little rest. Then on to Dee's for Ella's homemade pizza and one last dinner with the INL crew. They're all sure I'm coming back.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Golden
Goofy moments made my last day of classes.
In my first class, we finished the first part of a test, so I gave them a break. One student, the tall, strapping helicopter pilot with the cheeky Afghanistan t-shirt, didn't come back from the break and missed the listening part of the test. It turned out he had gone to get me a gift from the class, a colorful ethnic bag and wallet. He presented me with the gift and his test, finished, without having listened to the test CD. Points for thoughtfulness.
Another student from the anti-corruption agency came today. For the second time in three and a half weeks. When I asked if he knew that this was the last day of classes, and a student translated it for him into Tajik, he nodded. He had been sick (translated for me from Tajik to English). He took the test, translated mostly into Tajik by other students. Points for trying.
Another man who I met on the first day in the administration offices at the Ministry and who I now think was supposed to be my student, called to me from the hallway during my second class. I excused myself for a second and went out to speak with him. He apologized for missing the presenting of the certificates of participation by the INL folks from the embassy, which had happened between classes. He had been on duty. Then he presented me with three, huge long-stemmed white roses and rushed off. I'm still not sure if he was looking for his certificate of participation. Points for flowers?
My sweet student who I thought had decided on #2, the doctor in Moscow, is a little wilier than I gave her credit for. A few days ago, when I asked her about Moscow, she got a little coy and said, "Maybe I will go to America to study English." And while making small talk about jewelry after class, she said quite emphatically, "I only like gold." Of course she knows a thing or two. She's a police officer. It makes me feel better.
One of my most painfully shy, but fiercly persistent students, the librarian at the police academy, asked for the first time on the last day of class if she could walk with me a little to practice her English. As we left the Ministry, one of the guards said, "Auf Wiedersehen!"
The librarian escorted me most of the way home, carefully answering my questions and asking a few of her own when we went one too many steps without speaking. It's the only time I've regretted living so close to the Ministry.
In my first class, we finished the first part of a test, so I gave them a break. One student, the tall, strapping helicopter pilot with the cheeky Afghanistan t-shirt, didn't come back from the break and missed the listening part of the test. It turned out he had gone to get me a gift from the class, a colorful ethnic bag and wallet. He presented me with the gift and his test, finished, without having listened to the test CD. Points for thoughtfulness.
Another student from the anti-corruption agency came today. For the second time in three and a half weeks. When I asked if he knew that this was the last day of classes, and a student translated it for him into Tajik, he nodded. He had been sick (translated for me from Tajik to English). He took the test, translated mostly into Tajik by other students. Points for trying.
Another man who I met on the first day in the administration offices at the Ministry and who I now think was supposed to be my student, called to me from the hallway during my second class. I excused myself for a second and went out to speak with him. He apologized for missing the presenting of the certificates of participation by the INL folks from the embassy, which had happened between classes. He had been on duty. Then he presented me with three, huge long-stemmed white roses and rushed off. I'm still not sure if he was looking for his certificate of participation. Points for flowers?
My sweet student who I thought had decided on #2, the doctor in Moscow, is a little wilier than I gave her credit for. A few days ago, when I asked her about Moscow, she got a little coy and said, "Maybe I will go to America to study English." And while making small talk about jewelry after class, she said quite emphatically, "I only like gold." Of course she knows a thing or two. She's a police officer. It makes me feel better.
One of my most painfully shy, but fiercly persistent students, the librarian at the police academy, asked for the first time on the last day of class if she could walk with me a little to practice her English. As we left the Ministry, one of the guards said, "Auf Wiedersehen!"
The librarian escorted me most of the way home, carefully answering my questions and asking a few of her own when we went one too many steps without speaking. It's the only time I've regretted living so close to the Ministry.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Manpower
I admit that this blog has been a bit of a lady parade. Blame it on my Relief Society calling or my gender, but I've been fascinated by the women I've met.
To be fair, here's to the men.
First there was Valijon, my fearless visa expeditor, who it sounds like will soon become my fearless visa renewalist. The consular guy at the airport who only gave me a visa through July, even though all information said I'd be here until August 2, has purposely been excluded from this list.
Dee, fighter of corruption and crime, has gone above and beyond to make things more convenient for me. He lent me contact solution, arranged for someone to lend me clothes (his most brave act of all), helped me move, made sure I was using my peephole, showed me good supermarkets, suggested restaurants, pointed out that stairs here aren't always even in width, and pushed me out of the way of dripping water. And to boot, he bakes his own bread (perfect for bruschetta) and makes his own spaghetti sauce. Most importantly, he lends his kitchen out for Italian food night.
Jay, who I only met briefly, was a New York City cop for years and worked Ground Zero after September 11. After that, he said he needed a break. He spent eight years in Kosovo training police officers, and now he's here working in community policing.
Maksim, who appeared early and briefly in this blog, has been the most striking of the men I've met. He essentially educated himself in information technology and has lived independently of his family since he was eighteen because he could. Unheard of in these parts, as far as I can tell. His singularity reminds me of a former student, Hiroshi, whose warmth, humor, and openness were admirable by any standard, but stood out in high relief especially because these qualities didn't seem to have been dictated to him by the norms of his culture. Maksim's choices and actions too have been his own, coming from some inner desire for improvement and excellence. He has also found himself in tenuous situations that only personal (and some physical) strength, along with a sense of right could allow him to overcome. I think of him as an old man with a young face. I want to say, "May the brain drain not wash him away to some other place." But with my American eyes, it's hard not to wish him more.
To be fair, here's to the men.
First there was Valijon, my fearless visa expeditor, who it sounds like will soon become my fearless visa renewalist. The consular guy at the airport who only gave me a visa through July, even though all information said I'd be here until August 2, has purposely been excluded from this list.
Dee, fighter of corruption and crime, has gone above and beyond to make things more convenient for me. He lent me contact solution, arranged for someone to lend me clothes (his most brave act of all), helped me move, made sure I was using my peephole, showed me good supermarkets, suggested restaurants, pointed out that stairs here aren't always even in width, and pushed me out of the way of dripping water. And to boot, he bakes his own bread (perfect for bruschetta) and makes his own spaghetti sauce. Most importantly, he lends his kitchen out for Italian food night.
Jay, who I only met briefly, was a New York City cop for years and worked Ground Zero after September 11. After that, he said he needed a break. He spent eight years in Kosovo training police officers, and now he's here working in community policing.
Maksim, who appeared early and briefly in this blog, has been the most striking of the men I've met. He essentially educated himself in information technology and has lived independently of his family since he was eighteen because he could. Unheard of in these parts, as far as I can tell. His singularity reminds me of a former student, Hiroshi, whose warmth, humor, and openness were admirable by any standard, but stood out in high relief especially because these qualities didn't seem to have been dictated to him by the norms of his culture. Maksim's choices and actions too have been his own, coming from some inner desire for improvement and excellence. He has also found himself in tenuous situations that only personal (and some physical) strength, along with a sense of right could allow him to overcome. I think of him as an old man with a young face. I want to say, "May the brain drain not wash him away to some other place." But with my American eyes, it's hard not to wish him more.
Monday, July 26, 2010
"Given to Women"
The mosqueMy bashful guide.
Melon Man
Mimi and Ella in the blessed kitchen
Melon Man
Mimi and Ella in the blessed kitchenI had a blissful evening walking around again with my camera. It cools off around 6pm, and everyone takes to the streets. There's something about leaving the house with no plan but to wander. I headed toward the main mosque in the center along Rudaki Boulevard. When I started taking pictures there, the little boys selling melons wanted their picture taken. One brightly dressed little girl didn't want hers taken (I offered several times and snuck one when she wasn't looking), but she wanted to take mine, so I let her. Then I was lent a covering for my hair, and she lead me into the inner courtyard and mosque. There were wide marble stairs leading up to the mosque itself. As I started up, she ran in front of me, running and sliding across the higher stairs in her red plastic slippers. Inside the mosque it was simple and white. There were men praying, so I didn't take pictures or linger. I snapped a few more pictures of the outside, showing my little guide the results for her approval. I got a thumbs-up. Maybe she'll have her own camera one day.
Last night, Ella made dinner at Dee's house. We had bruschetta (pronounced "brews-ketta" says the Italian) on homemade bread, fresh pesto chicken pasta salad, figs and apricots from the market. And for dessert, olive oil cake with local peaches sweetened with sugar and balsamic vinegar. Then, I died.
I love Italian cooking because it's simple. When Ella can't find ingredients that she needs, she substitutes. No pine nuts for the pesto, so walnuts. No artichokes for the salad, so pickled vinegary things from the Korean women at the market. And it works. I've been madly jotting down recipes as she shares. I can't wait to try some of her stuff at home. And if you benefit, you're welcome.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
For Lady K and Abby Jean from the children's park...
This is the Dali (?) inspired children's park. I'm still on the look-out for an "O". "S" in the cyrillic alphabet is "C".
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Camera Not So Obscura
Fountains in the park with the presidential palace in the background.
Close-up of a mosaic on the side of a building.
A taxi driver who wanted his picture taken with me. When I showed him the picture, he said, "I love you." I think he meant, "I love it."
Same guy with his friend.
A proud grandma who asked me to take a picture.
These two were strolling and snacking on seeds. Pretty, aren't they?
A little one with a BIG Coke.
Friday, July 23, 2010
One Month Is Not Enough!
It hit me yesterday that this is by far the most foreign of the countries I've visited, and one month is not enough time to absorb and experience it all. I'll have to pack in as much as possible in my last week. I've taken about two and half weeks to settle in. I've functioned, but haven't felt functional. Let me illustrate. I found the National Museum last week after wandering a bit by following two women who looked like tourists into a school supply market, where luckily I saw postcards, which I had been wanting to buy. One of the postcards happened to be a picture of the National Museum, which I recognized was the building right next door. I had been confused because it said "Ministry of Culture," not "National Museum." After buying my postcards by holding up fingers to get the price, I got to the museum.
I went to a market with Ella this morning and realized how little I've seen. It's fun going places with her because she understands the culture, but also recognizes the oddities. A few funny moments from the market:
I wanted to try on a shirt (before I understood where that would have to happen). It was a berry pink number that had one very short sleeve and one elbow-length kimono style sleeve with sequins on the edge of the long sleeve and along the hem (it was cuter than it sounds). Ella suggested it would be perfect for a 35 year old woman who is without an arm and that, my friends, made me want to try it on. The owner of the store said to Ella (I could tell by her body language) that it would be too tight in the chest while at the same time another guy in the store sucked in air and clicked his tongue at the thought of me squeezing into it. For the record, it didn't look too small, but we left.
Ella was looking for some clothes. She wanted to try on a purple shirt she saw, and the sales girl lifted a sheet. This was the dressing room. We'd gone into another store where one woman had just dropped her trousers to try on another pair of pants. This is the part of Tajikistan that is incongruent and fascinating. Tajik culture is very conservative, but there's still the Soviet influence, which is much more free and open. So, there in the market are women wearing traditional Tajik dresses and their hair tied up in scarves shopping with other women who don't mind standing around in their panties. There are Iranian-style head coverings for sale near bikinis and platform stillettos.
These two sides do seem to join hands in their appreciation for all things sparkly however. Fabrics, purses, shoes, and hair accessories are covered or embellished with sequins, rhinestones or sparkly thread. It was difficult to find a hair clip that wasn't covered in rhinestones. I did find one that was conservatively bedazzled, so I figured why not celebrate the sparkle, a little.
I went to a market with Ella this morning and realized how little I've seen. It's fun going places with her because she understands the culture, but also recognizes the oddities. A few funny moments from the market:
I wanted to try on a shirt (before I understood where that would have to happen). It was a berry pink number that had one very short sleeve and one elbow-length kimono style sleeve with sequins on the edge of the long sleeve and along the hem (it was cuter than it sounds). Ella suggested it would be perfect for a 35 year old woman who is without an arm and that, my friends, made me want to try it on. The owner of the store said to Ella (I could tell by her body language) that it would be too tight in the chest while at the same time another guy in the store sucked in air and clicked his tongue at the thought of me squeezing into it. For the record, it didn't look too small, but we left.
Ella was looking for some clothes. She wanted to try on a purple shirt she saw, and the sales girl lifted a sheet. This was the dressing room. We'd gone into another store where one woman had just dropped her trousers to try on another pair of pants. This is the part of Tajikistan that is incongruent and fascinating. Tajik culture is very conservative, but there's still the Soviet influence, which is much more free and open. So, there in the market are women wearing traditional Tajik dresses and their hair tied up in scarves shopping with other women who don't mind standing around in their panties. There are Iranian-style head coverings for sale near bikinis and platform stillettos.
These two sides do seem to join hands in their appreciation for all things sparkly however. Fabrics, purses, shoes, and hair accessories are covered or embellished with sequins, rhinestones or sparkly thread. It was difficult to find a hair clip that wasn't covered in rhinestones. I did find one that was conservatively bedazzled, so I figured why not celebrate the sparkle, a little.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
The Snack Buffet Has Arrived
When I started the classes three weeks ago, Mimi was in the process of arranging some catering for a coffee break for the students. The process got a little caught up in red tape, but it arrived today and how. Juices, waters, pretzels, candy, chocolate, pistachios, dried fruits, coffee and tea. We have five days to consume it.
They've started some kind of construction outside our class, and I was willing to ignore it, but the students couldn't. One of the national security guys stuck his head out the window and persuaded them to stop with a couple of bottles of water. It worked for about ten minutes, so he had one of the ladies ask them instead, which did the trick. This was a student I mistakenly called Shakira the other day because her name is similar and she's about as pretty. It all reminded me of that scene in A Beautiful Mind with the jackhammer.
The students don't allow me to carry anything heavy or to work too hard to erase the white board, which often takes some elbow grease. They don't let me pour my own drink either or go without snacks (okay, fine, I'll have some chocolate). While they were working on an activity today, I went to the back of the classroom to straighten up the snack area, but it made one student so uncomfortable that he jumped up to help me, so I had to stop to keep him focused.
These are good souls.
They've started some kind of construction outside our class, and I was willing to ignore it, but the students couldn't. One of the national security guys stuck his head out the window and persuaded them to stop with a couple of bottles of water. It worked for about ten minutes, so he had one of the ladies ask them instead, which did the trick. This was a student I mistakenly called Shakira the other day because her name is similar and she's about as pretty. It all reminded me of that scene in A Beautiful Mind with the jackhammer.
The students don't allow me to carry anything heavy or to work too hard to erase the white board, which often takes some elbow grease. They don't let me pour my own drink either or go without snacks (okay, fine, I'll have some chocolate). While they were working on an activity today, I went to the back of the classroom to straighten up the snack area, but it made one student so uncomfortable that he jumped up to help me, so I had to stop to keep him focused.
These are good souls.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
A few firsts happened today:
Rain!
Cool breezes!
Power outages. Although I suspect the outages have happened before while I wasn't at home because I've come home twice to the TV on.
It's hard to believe that my time here is winding down. Six more classes. Ten more days. Some of my clothes still smell like home.
Rain!
Cool breezes!
Power outages. Although I suspect the outages have happened before while I wasn't at home because I've come home twice to the TV on.
It's hard to believe that my time here is winding down. Six more classes. Ten more days. Some of my clothes still smell like home.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Stolen
Kudos to Cousin Emily for managing things for me at home, including my cat who finds it necessary to bring home live birds on a regular basis. His most recent were two chicks (one for Emily and one for her friend; he's very thoughtful) that look like baby platypuses from the picture. Sorry, baby birds, apparently even the Cat Bib (google it) won't stop him. Way to be brave, Emily and friend.
One of the best moments of my teaching day happens when my classes are finished. Two female students, both police officers, help me lock up, and then they walk me out to the security gate. We walk and we talk and we share. I'm just as curious about them as they are about me. One is married with two children and gets one day off a week. With that day off yesterday, she made strawberry jam. The other is single, but in the process of deciding her future. I was prepped by Mimi and Ella about the fact that there is a sort of unofficial polygamy here. Many men have a first wife that they've legally and religiously married, and then another usually younger woman that they've either married religiously or just become involved with on the side. So when I asked my sweet, rather guileless unmarried student if she had a boyfriend, I was a little surprised when she told me she had two, but I was not surprised when she told me the first, who she loves, is married with children. The second, a doctor in Moscow, wants to marry her. We've been referring to them as #1 and #2. When I asked her if #1 and #2 know about each other, she nearly passed out at the idea. So, no. #2 has returned to visit and is waiting for her answer. If she goes to Moscow, she will be far from family and friends and will no longer be a police officer. If she stays here, she will have a job, her family, and friends, but not the man that she loves. Well, not really at least. Today, she told me she had decided on #2. May #2 be worthy of her.
One of the best moments of my teaching day happens when my classes are finished. Two female students, both police officers, help me lock up, and then they walk me out to the security gate. We walk and we talk and we share. I'm just as curious about them as they are about me. One is married with two children and gets one day off a week. With that day off yesterday, she made strawberry jam. The other is single, but in the process of deciding her future. I was prepped by Mimi and Ella about the fact that there is a sort of unofficial polygamy here. Many men have a first wife that they've legally and religiously married, and then another usually younger woman that they've either married religiously or just become involved with on the side. So when I asked my sweet, rather guileless unmarried student if she had a boyfriend, I was a little surprised when she told me she had two, but I was not surprised when she told me the first, who she loves, is married with children. The second, a doctor in Moscow, wants to marry her. We've been referring to them as #1 and #2. When I asked her if #1 and #2 know about each other, she nearly passed out at the idea. So, no. #2 has returned to visit and is waiting for her answer. If she goes to Moscow, she will be far from family and friends and will no longer be a police officer. If she stays here, she will have a job, her family, and friends, but not the man that she loves. Well, not really at least. Today, she told me she had decided on #2. May #2 be worthy of her.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Say What?
In the last two weeks surrounded by Russian, Tajik and the cyrillic alphabet, it has felt like I've been in a strange sounding whirlwind and slowly realized that some of the stuff being blown around is bits of paper. And that those bits of paper have words written on them. And then, this week, that a few of those bits are post-it notes that are actually sticking. The spoken words that are "sticking": names of people, roads, and places, yes, no, please, thank you, hi, goodbye, water, this, bon appetite, BBQ, and river platforms.
If all else fails, I use sign language or something latin based, like "professor" for the guards at the ministry who don't recognize me, and hope that the little French adopted into Russian won't fail me.
New alphabet + new language = tricky business.
If all else fails, I use sign language or something latin based, like "professor" for the guards at the ministry who don't recognize me, and hope that the little French adopted into Russian won't fail me.
New alphabet + new language = tricky business.
The Women
Here are pictures of women on the street wearing traditional dresses. Notice in the first picture the girl in the front with jeans and a tank top. There's a definite mixture of western and traditional dress.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Observations II
I realized I forgot a few:
If you didn't see my status update, there's a laundry detergent here named "Barf". I have since learned that this means "white" in Farsi and is produced in Iran. Let's hope they get some rebranding help should they ever decide to move into western markets.
I have been told that in Tajikstan a woman who is thirty-five, unmarried and childless is viewed as disabled, like she's missing an arm or a leg.
I've seen mothers dressed less conservatively than their daughters. The mother might just have a scarf tied loosely around her hair, but the daughter's hair is completely tucked away under a full head covering. A sign of the times they've grown up in.
And by far my favorite quote so far....Ella said this evening after a nice dinner and long chat, "Let's do this again tomorrow night if we aren't having any stomach problems." Isn't there some old adage about things not seeming so bad if you know others are experiencing the same thing?
If you didn't see my status update, there's a laundry detergent here named "Barf". I have since learned that this means "white" in Farsi and is produced in Iran. Let's hope they get some rebranding help should they ever decide to move into western markets.
I have been told that in Tajikstan a woman who is thirty-five, unmarried and childless is viewed as disabled, like she's missing an arm or a leg.
I've seen mothers dressed less conservatively than their daughters. The mother might just have a scarf tied loosely around her hair, but the daughter's hair is completely tucked away under a full head covering. A sign of the times they've grown up in.
And by far my favorite quote so far....Ella said this evening after a nice dinner and long chat, "Let's do this again tomorrow night if we aren't having any stomach problems." Isn't there some old adage about things not seeming so bad if you know others are experiencing the same thing?
Observations
I'm a morning person in Dushanbe to the tune of 5:45-6:00am every morning. This is a small miracle brought about by the construction next door. If only it would last (getting up early, not the construction).
My iPod Touch is another little miracle. I use it to read (I read this week's Sunday School lesson while at dinner last night and phew for what the younger people advise Rehoboam to say to his people), listen to podcasts, learn a little Russian, email, look at pictures, and listen to music. It was worth every penny.
After traveling to two countries in as many months, I have absolutely forgotten the PIN to my ATM card. Oops. Not even visualizing a trip to the grocery store at home to purchase a few items will bring it back. Thank goodness for cash advances on credit cards!
I'm so glad I packed my Pilates DVD, not so sure about the summer scarves.
I taught my students vocabulary words today that included taser, holster, and bulletproof vest. Awesome. The classes are going quite a bit differently than I had envisioned, but that's ESL, and I think it's working out better for the students. They need working, functional language now. I haven't used the Highlights magazines I brought :). Not much practical law enforcement language there.
Enough about me. More of Dushanbe.
The unibrow is popular here (think Frida Kahlo),especially as a sign of purity with some women; I've even seen some who have drawn one in. Apparently, you only pluck once you've...well...
I went to an American-style cafe yesterday. I knew I was in the right place when I walked in and three apple laptops stared back at me. Judging by the menu and inventory, the two most important things to Americans are Starbuck's coffee and peanut butter.
There are a surprising number of tourists here. There is a remote mountain region called the Pamirs that I understand most are going to. It takes 18 hours to get there by four wheel drive vehicle because the road is so rugged, or it's possible to go byplane if there is no cloud cover, which is iffy at best. You should look it up. The pictures look amazing.
Me
My iPod Touch is another little miracle. I use it to read (I read this week's Sunday School lesson while at dinner last night and phew for what the younger people advise Rehoboam to say to his people), listen to podcasts, learn a little Russian, email, look at pictures, and listen to music. It was worth every penny.
After traveling to two countries in as many months, I have absolutely forgotten the PIN to my ATM card. Oops. Not even visualizing a trip to the grocery store at home to purchase a few items will bring it back. Thank goodness for cash advances on credit cards!
I'm so glad I packed my Pilates DVD, not so sure about the summer scarves.
I taught my students vocabulary words today that included taser, holster, and bulletproof vest. Awesome. The classes are going quite a bit differently than I had envisioned, but that's ESL, and I think it's working out better for the students. They need working, functional language now. I haven't used the Highlights magazines I brought :). Not much practical law enforcement language there.
Enough about me. More of Dushanbe.
The unibrow is popular here (think Frida Kahlo),especially as a sign of purity with some women; I've even seen some who have drawn one in. Apparently, you only pluck once you've...well...
I went to an American-style cafe yesterday. I knew I was in the right place when I walked in and three apple laptops stared back at me. Judging by the menu and inventory, the two most important things to Americans are Starbuck's coffee and peanut butter.
There are a surprising number of tourists here. There is a remote mountain region called the Pamirs that I understand most are going to. It takes 18 hours to get there by four wheel drive vehicle because the road is so rugged, or it's possible to go byplane if there is no cloud cover, which is iffy at best. You should look it up. The pictures look amazing.
Me
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
I Taught the Law
My students are a mix of police officers, border patrol, national security agents, military intelligence, helicopter pilots, drug control agents, and teachers at the police academy. Several are women. I keep getting more students too. Today, some guy from Interpol asked about the classes, and four more are coming from another agency Thursday. Surprisingly, they all seem to be getting along fairly well. A couple of funny moments:
The helicopter pilot wore a t-shirt yesterday that said, "My daughter went to Afghanistan Operation Enduring Freedom and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." I'm sure he doesn't have a daughter old enough to go to Afghanistan, and it's a rather cheeky t-shirt for a military operation.
The military intelligence guy looks very boyish, but has a deep scar that runs diagonally from above his left eye to just above the bridge of his nose. He's very quiet and almost timid. In other words, not what I would expect from someone in military intelligence. I had his class look at one picture today, study it, turn it over, and then look at another similar picture and explain the differences. I thought it was very telling that he recognized some minute differences that no one else saw, including me, like one suitcase in the picture had teeny wheels added.
I'm starting to feel how short my time really is here, but it's encouraging that so many students are eager. Hopefully there will be another teacher here in the fall to continue on with them.
The helicopter pilot wore a t-shirt yesterday that said, "My daughter went to Afghanistan Operation Enduring Freedom and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." I'm sure he doesn't have a daughter old enough to go to Afghanistan, and it's a rather cheeky t-shirt for a military operation.
The military intelligence guy looks very boyish, but has a deep scar that runs diagonally from above his left eye to just above the bridge of his nose. He's very quiet and almost timid. In other words, not what I would expect from someone in military intelligence. I had his class look at one picture today, study it, turn it over, and then look at another similar picture and explain the differences. I thought it was very telling that he recognized some minute differences that no one else saw, including me, like one suitcase in the picture had teeny wheels added.
I'm starting to feel how short my time really is here, but it's encouraging that so many students are eager. Hopefully there will be another teacher here in the fall to continue on with them.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
A Much Needed Sunday
I've spent a quiet day at home reading and preparing for my first full week of classes.
On Friday, I went to the Antiquities Museum, where there is a huge Buddha much like the one the Taliban blew up a few years ago in Afghanistan. It was extracted from an archeological site and brought the museum for restoration. Buddha is in meditative repose (napping, really) and about 100 feet long and 10 feet high...an impressive and unexpected sight. There were also interesting collections from the Stone Age, Bronze Age, the Greek period (yep, they made it here, too) and the Arabic rule during the Middle Ages. I had to wear plastic coverings on my shoes and follow taped arrows on the carpet. There were some descriptions in English. Museum workers followed me around to turn on and off the lights, presumably to save money, and to keep me going in the right direction through the collections.
Later, I met Mimi for dinner, and she introduced me to her friend Maksim, an IT guy. I also met one of Mimi's daughters, who doesn't speak much English, but we managed to communicate about something understood by all teenage girls everywhere, Twilight (she likes Edward AND Jacob). It's playing in the theater here too. I picked Mimi and Maksim's brains about the history of Tajikstan, especially because I'd just been to the museum. Both Maksim and Mimi are part Uzbek. Historically, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan are completely different cultures. Uzbek is a Turkish language, and Tajik comes from Farsi. The Soviet Union tried to make them one country, but experts were sent to Moscow to prove that they were not the same. Bored, yet? Another time perhaps about the civil war.
We decided that Saturday we'd visit an old Arabic fort outside of the city after I finished my classes at 1:00pm, but it was very hot yesterday. Back we went to the cafe. While we waited for Ella to come, the cafe cleared out. Maksim said everyone had probably gone to the river and suggested we all go there too. After stopping at a grocery store for snacks, we were off. Only about 15 minutes outside of the city on a canyon road that looked very familiar, like the mountains around Price, we turned off to a little "resort". It was built around a pretty green mountain river and felt at least ten degrees cooler than in the city. Metal lounging platforms with legs had been built along and in the river. Ours was right in the water with a canopy of trees above it. It was covered with big, stuffed quilts and pillows for lounging. The people around us put their watermelons and soda in the water to keep them cool. We ordered lamb and beef kebabs that were brought to us with a yummy tomato cucumber salad and big round loaves of bread that we tore apart with our hands. It's customary for men to serve food to women if the company is mixed. That's right, as we lounged on a platform in the river, Maksim filled our plates and told us to eat the meat quickly because it's only delicious when it's hot. Dreamy.
When it chilled off and started to get dark, we headed back into the city for another stop at the cafe, then home.
On Friday, I went to the Antiquities Museum, where there is a huge Buddha much like the one the Taliban blew up a few years ago in Afghanistan. It was extracted from an archeological site and brought the museum for restoration. Buddha is in meditative repose (napping, really) and about 100 feet long and 10 feet high...an impressive and unexpected sight. There were also interesting collections from the Stone Age, Bronze Age, the Greek period (yep, they made it here, too) and the Arabic rule during the Middle Ages. I had to wear plastic coverings on my shoes and follow taped arrows on the carpet. There were some descriptions in English. Museum workers followed me around to turn on and off the lights, presumably to save money, and to keep me going in the right direction through the collections.
Later, I met Mimi for dinner, and she introduced me to her friend Maksim, an IT guy. I also met one of Mimi's daughters, who doesn't speak much English, but we managed to communicate about something understood by all teenage girls everywhere, Twilight (she likes Edward AND Jacob). It's playing in the theater here too. I picked Mimi and Maksim's brains about the history of Tajikstan, especially because I'd just been to the museum. Both Maksim and Mimi are part Uzbek. Historically, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan are completely different cultures. Uzbek is a Turkish language, and Tajik comes from Farsi. The Soviet Union tried to make them one country, but experts were sent to Moscow to prove that they were not the same. Bored, yet? Another time perhaps about the civil war.
We decided that Saturday we'd visit an old Arabic fort outside of the city after I finished my classes at 1:00pm, but it was very hot yesterday. Back we went to the cafe. While we waited for Ella to come, the cafe cleared out. Maksim said everyone had probably gone to the river and suggested we all go there too. After stopping at a grocery store for snacks, we were off. Only about 15 minutes outside of the city on a canyon road that looked very familiar, like the mountains around Price, we turned off to a little "resort". It was built around a pretty green mountain river and felt at least ten degrees cooler than in the city. Metal lounging platforms with legs had been built along and in the river. Ours was right in the water with a canopy of trees above it. It was covered with big, stuffed quilts and pillows for lounging. The people around us put their watermelons and soda in the water to keep them cool. We ordered lamb and beef kebabs that were brought to us with a yummy tomato cucumber salad and big round loaves of bread that we tore apart with our hands. It's customary for men to serve food to women if the company is mixed. That's right, as we lounged on a platform in the river, Maksim filled our plates and told us to eat the meat quickly because it's only delicious when it's hot. Dreamy.
When it chilled off and started to get dark, we headed back into the city for another stop at the cafe, then home.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
The Dushanbe Diet
This diet has clearly been overlooked by the diet industry. The prospects are very good that I will have absolutely no weight gain while here. Usually when traveling I adjust by finding something that I really, really like and eating a lot of it. That food has yet to show itself. Yes, they have chocolate and bread and Coke, but nothing has, let's just say, taken up residence in my appetite and other places. There is a lovely spaghetti pomodoro at my favorite cafe when I have a craving for it. It does hit the spot.
I read an article yesterday about ratio cooking and attempted cookies that were equal parts butter, sugar, and flour. I don't have a baking sheet, so I baked them in a non-stick frying pan after chilling them. They actually kind of worked as very, very buttery thin wafers.
My first official class was yesterday. Mimi and Dee have been especially helpful in setting up my class. Mimi worked hard at getting a classroom to use at the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The classes last year were taught at the police academy, which is apparently very far from the center of the city and a hardship for students to get to. I really just have to walk around the corner and down the street a bit to get there; the students have even less of a walk as they work at the ministry or across the street at MVD (I don't know what this stands for other than "formerly known as the KGB").
My students seem especially eager to be there. I broke the ice by passing around pictures of my friends and family and had them ask me questions. Of note, one student requested the phone numbers of my "beautiful friends" in the photos. Ladies, yes or no? This activity also helped me determine their skills. Then we did a practice listening test and a real test. Now I can split them up into intermediate and high intermediate classes. We meet on Saturdays all together. I'm going to use this day to teach conversation skills. I have visions of these experienced police and intelligence officers using skills like these:
Active listening--"So what you're saying, Sir, is that you're upset I pulled you over."
Open-ended questions--"Address, please.......ah, how do you like that neighborhood?"
Honest positives--"Thank you for being honest in telling me exactly how you feel."
We'll see how tomorrow goes!
I'm looking forward to some hiking this weekend outside the city with an expat group. Now that I'm more settled in and working, I've figured out it's going to take some effort not to feel isolated. This'll be a good way to meet a few more folks and see more of Tajikistan.
I read an article yesterday about ratio cooking and attempted cookies that were equal parts butter, sugar, and flour. I don't have a baking sheet, so I baked them in a non-stick frying pan after chilling them. They actually kind of worked as very, very buttery thin wafers.
My first official class was yesterday. Mimi and Dee have been especially helpful in setting up my class. Mimi worked hard at getting a classroom to use at the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The classes last year were taught at the police academy, which is apparently very far from the center of the city and a hardship for students to get to. I really just have to walk around the corner and down the street a bit to get there; the students have even less of a walk as they work at the ministry or across the street at MVD (I don't know what this stands for other than "formerly known as the KGB").
My students seem especially eager to be there. I broke the ice by passing around pictures of my friends and family and had them ask me questions. Of note, one student requested the phone numbers of my "beautiful friends" in the photos. Ladies, yes or no? This activity also helped me determine their skills. Then we did a practice listening test and a real test. Now I can split them up into intermediate and high intermediate classes. We meet on Saturdays all together. I'm going to use this day to teach conversation skills. I have visions of these experienced police and intelligence officers using skills like these:
Active listening--"So what you're saying, Sir, is that you're upset I pulled you over."
Open-ended questions--"Address, please.......ah, how do you like that neighborhood?"
Honest positives--"Thank you for being honest in telling me exactly how you feel."
We'll see how tomorrow goes!
I'm looking forward to some hiking this weekend outside the city with an expat group. Now that I'm more settled in and working, I've figured out it's going to take some effort not to feel isolated. This'll be a good way to meet a few more folks and see more of Tajikistan.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tajikistan-1, Me-0
Tajikistan kicked my trash today, and it's only 1:30pm.
Plans for today
Go to the bank for cash
Go to the antiquity museum
Prep for class tomorrow.
What really happened
Went out to try an ATM.
Called Mimi to send a taxi
Went to the bank but couldn't get cash.
Went home to email my credit union and research other options if ATM card stops working.
Started walking to the museum.
Got a call from Mimi to turn around and meet her at a cafe, so she could go to the bank with me.
Started walking toward cafe and got another call from Mimi to go home.
Went home and did more research on my credit cards and Western Union.
Called the driver to take me to the bank again at 1:00pm.
Another call from Mimi not to go to the bank and to wait for her until 2:00pm.
Driver pulls up just then, so I go to the bank anyway to try again.
Success on getting money (for today).
Back home.
Blog to process what just happened to the morning :).
Plans for today
Go to the bank for cash
Go to the antiquity museum
Prep for class tomorrow.
What really happened
Went out to try an ATM.
Called Mimi to send a taxi
Went to the bank but couldn't get cash.
Went home to email my credit union and research other options if ATM card stops working.
Started walking to the museum.
Got a call from Mimi to turn around and meet her at a cafe, so she could go to the bank with me.
Started walking toward cafe and got another call from Mimi to go home.
Went home and did more research on my credit cards and Western Union.
Called the driver to take me to the bank again at 1:00pm.
Another call from Mimi not to go to the bank and to wait for her until 2:00pm.
Driver pulls up just then, so I go to the bank anyway to try again.
Success on getting money (for today).
Back home.
Blog to process what just happened to the morning :).
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Snapshots
I've included some pictures of monuments around Dushanbe, and one of my first apartment. My profile picture is of Rudaki Boulevard, the main street. These are the trees that give the shade that reduces the heat that otherwise might be unbearable. People also walk up and down this street in the evenings. It’s not always convenient to take pictures, so here are a few “snapshots” of the people I’ve met so far.
Jonival (I’m sure I didn’t spell that right) was the visa expeditor who met me at the airport as I arrived in Dushanbe at 3:30am. He had my name on a sign “Erin Leigh Klark” and wore a snappy official uniform of neatly pressed navy pants and a khaki shirt complete with epaulets; it gave me a great deal of confidence to say the least. As a plane load of people made their way through customs, he told me to sit down in the visa office while he walked the paperwork through.
Mimi is one of the Tajik workers at the INL office at the embassy. I adore her. Just to give you an idea why: at the first public restroom I had to use, which really wasn’t all that bad, she waited for me and then led me to a sink with some soap and a towel. She’s been doing stuff like that ever since I got here. She gave me one of her own towels to use when she didn’t like the one provided at my first apartment, and she let me use one of her daughter’s cell phones until I could get one; she gave me a t-shirt to sleep in and moisturizer for my face.
Ella is a friend of Mimi’s who was a Fulbright scholar here to research migration. Now she’s back on a temporary contract with an international organization. She’s Italian and married a man in the American military; he’s now a high ranking official. They are stationed in Germany with their two sons. She married young and had kids young, and then went back to school. When I said it is nice that her husband is so supportive of her work, she said, “Well, if not, what does he want, a divorce?” She’s sassy, and I’m looking forward to doing more with her.
Dee is one of the guys in the INL office and the beauty of working with law enforcement is they’ve got your back. I think I will always have a soft spot for ex-FBI agents who do international development. The ones I’ve met have been peaches. Dee and Mimi helped me move yesterday, and when I opened the door, he said, “Did you look out the peep hole first?”
The women of Tajikistan have surprised me. When I got to my gate at the Istanbul airport, the first woman I saw was draped from head to toe in black. This was a little disconcerting and unexpected. I have since learned that this is very rare; in fact, I haven’t seen another woman dressed like that since. Many women wear traditional brightly patterned long dress with matching pants underneath, and they might have a scarf covering some or all of their usually very long black hair. They’re beautiful. I’ll get pictures.
Jonival (I’m sure I didn’t spell that right) was the visa expeditor who met me at the airport as I arrived in Dushanbe at 3:30am. He had my name on a sign “Erin Leigh Klark” and wore a snappy official uniform of neatly pressed navy pants and a khaki shirt complete with epaulets; it gave me a great deal of confidence to say the least. As a plane load of people made their way through customs, he told me to sit down in the visa office while he walked the paperwork through.
Mimi is one of the Tajik workers at the INL office at the embassy. I adore her. Just to give you an idea why: at the first public restroom I had to use, which really wasn’t all that bad, she waited for me and then led me to a sink with some soap and a towel. She’s been doing stuff like that ever since I got here. She gave me one of her own towels to use when she didn’t like the one provided at my first apartment, and she let me use one of her daughter’s cell phones until I could get one; she gave me a t-shirt to sleep in and moisturizer for my face.
Ella is a friend of Mimi’s who was a Fulbright scholar here to research migration. Now she’s back on a temporary contract with an international organization. She’s Italian and married a man in the American military; he’s now a high ranking official. They are stationed in Germany with their two sons. She married young and had kids young, and then went back to school. When I said it is nice that her husband is so supportive of her work, she said, “Well, if not, what does he want, a divorce?” She’s sassy, and I’m looking forward to doing more with her.
Dee is one of the guys in the INL office and the beauty of working with law enforcement is they’ve got your back. I think I will always have a soft spot for ex-FBI agents who do international development. The ones I’ve met have been peaches. Dee and Mimi helped me move yesterday, and when I opened the door, he said, “Did you look out the peep hole first?”
The women of Tajikistan have surprised me. When I got to my gate at the Istanbul airport, the first woman I saw was draped from head to toe in black. This was a little disconcerting and unexpected. I have since learned that this is very rare; in fact, I haven’t seen another woman dressed like that since. Many women wear traditional brightly patterned long dress with matching pants underneath, and they might have a scarf covering some or all of their usually very long black hair. They’re beautiful. I’ll get pictures.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Hello, Stuff
Bummer that I spent about one hour on Sunday composing a lovely post about a few people I've met so far only to find that it's not here. I'll have to do it again.
I got my luggage today!!! I almost cried I was so happy to see my things. I also moved into my "permanent" apartment, which is very close to the Ministry of Internal Affairs; I will commute by foot. I meet my students for the first time tomorrow morning, and I've been prepped to expect very stoic ones. I've been walking around the city a lot (thank goodness my travel shoes were Birkenstocks), and most people keep to themselves. In fact, just today a little boy reached out to grab me and that was the first time anyone had even touched me on the street. Men typically do not touch women even to shake hands. Yesterday afternoon, I walked by an older man sitting outside of his home, and he actually acknowledged me in the customary way of putting his right hand over his heart. That felt like progress.
I got my luggage today!!! I almost cried I was so happy to see my things. I also moved into my "permanent" apartment, which is very close to the Ministry of Internal Affairs; I will commute by foot. I meet my students for the first time tomorrow morning, and I've been prepped to expect very stoic ones. I've been walking around the city a lot (thank goodness my travel shoes were Birkenstocks), and most people keep to themselves. In fact, just today a little boy reached out to grab me and that was the first time anyone had even touched me on the street. Men typically do not touch women even to shake hands. Yesterday afternoon, I walked by an older man sitting outside of his home, and he actually acknowledged me in the customary way of putting his right hand over his heart. That felt like progress.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Friday, July 2, 2010
From the I-Pod with love
Brief notes from the first few days:
My luggage decided to stay behind in Istanbul for the extended holiday weekend. I got all the toiletries I needed. A guy from the embassy lent me contact solution and a woman some clothes and razors. Washing every night. I had a rough time packing for the month and thought to myself, "Wow, I am really attached to my stuff." The next flight from Istanbul is early Monday morning.
My temp apartment is big enough to swallow my condo and still have room for dessert. It is very nice and newly remodeled.
It is very hot,like Utah in the summer. I played tourist this morning and walked to
some monuments, but quickly wilted and retreated to a cafe called Segafredo, which has become my main source of meals and wifi.
Party tonight for one of the outgoing teachers and 4th of July picnic tomorrow at the embassy. I move into my actual apartment this weekend and meet my students Tuesday.
I probably should have studied a little Russian before coming.
My luggage decided to stay behind in Istanbul for the extended holiday weekend. I got all the toiletries I needed. A guy from the embassy lent me contact solution and a woman some clothes and razors. Washing every night. I had a rough time packing for the month and thought to myself, "Wow, I am really attached to my stuff." The next flight from Istanbul is early Monday morning.
My temp apartment is big enough to swallow my condo and still have room for dessert. It is very nice and newly remodeled.
It is very hot,like Utah in the summer. I played tourist this morning and walked to
some monuments, but quickly wilted and retreated to a cafe called Segafredo, which has become my main source of meals and wifi.
Party tonight for one of the outgoing teachers and 4th of July picnic tomorrow at the embassy. I move into my actual apartment this weekend and meet my students Tuesday.
I probably should have studied a little Russian before coming.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Nesting?
I always do this. I nest when I should be preparing to fly the coop. It's 2:48am. Less than 12 hours to go and my list of things to do is growing not diminishing: one more email, clean, rearrange the packing, check in, update blog, pay bills....sleep. It's 2:48pm in Dushanbe, so I should be up anyway.
At the last minute today, I bought some Utah things to take with me: scenic postcards and salt water taffy. I also decided to print some personal photos to take, which took much longer than it should have. And here we are at 2:55a.m. G is peturbed.
At the last minute today, I bought some Utah things to take with me: scenic postcards and salt water taffy. I also decided to print some personal photos to take, which took much longer than it should have. And here we are at 2:55a.m. G is peturbed.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Stan-which?
Tajikistan. There are a lot of "stans" in Central Asia, but I'm going to this one as an English Language Specialist with the State Department for the month of July. I've begged leave of my responsibilities at home and fully expect adventures to abound. Stay tuned.
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