Verena

My stomach was too small. As I have experienced while grocery shopping when hungry, my stomach was no match for my eyes. Except this time I was shopping for food I knew I wouldn’t get for the next 2 years. I had just finished my second chipotle burrito, was halfway deep into a pepperoni pizza, and had still only barely made a dent in my bucket list of food. My stomach was just too small. I was because of times like these and people like me that gluttony was on that list of seven. I half expected Kevin Spacey to walk in, tie me down and force feed the rest of the food I craved, but could not fit. These, were my last thoughts regarding food in the United States, thoughts I might have retained given I never discovered my new reason for existence: verena.

Verena is a delicious homemade jam made by every Kyrgyz household worth their own salt, i.e., anyone that can mix fruit with sugar. But do not be fooled, as simple as the recipe sounds (fruit and sugar) every verena is different. And it was upon this realization that I understood what must happen for my duration in Kyrgyzstan. My mission: To seek and consume as much of the best verena within the politicized territorial boundary of the Kyrgyz Republic as possible. Challenge Accepted.

First, we must ask ourselves, what makes the best verena indeed the best? Should it be, which verena complements the meal or drink with which it is being consumed? Or simply how much can I shovel into my face before getting sick? As the distinguished and intellectual individual that I am, I obviously chose the latter.

Now a rubric was to be created. Things like sweetness, texture of whole fruit, and thickness of adjoining syrup were, of course, to be taken into account. But things like healthiness and the difference of whole fruit and syrup specific gravity throw a wrench into the usual calculation methods.

The best verena in country- will be sweet but not over poweringly so, an essence of the original fruit must be present. The whole fruit must also be present, but not too tough, as most apricot verenas tend to be. A proper preparation of whole fruit must be observed. And the difference of texture b4etween whole fruit and the syrup is an often overlooked attribute. One cannot be fishing for hard chunks of fruit in a watery syrup- verena must be able to be consumed as one substance. This is a reason why raspberry verena always scores so high on the Verena Calculator. The mashed raspberry integrates well with the syrup. And if proper sweetness is observed, a near perfect verena is achieved.

But we cannot overlook the healthiness factor. Loaded with tons of sugar, healthiness is often inversely correlated with other positive factors. However keep in mind, as the mission states: “Consume as much of the best verena … as possible.” And acquiring type 2 diabetes from over consumption is most certainly not part of our goal, and is in fact contradictory to the sustainability of our main objective. As acquiring type 2 diabetes would probably result in a medical separation from Peace Corps.

Armed with nothing but the best tools (my impeccable sense of taste and the infallible Verena Calculator) and the financial backing of the US Government (kind of), my search has endured and will continue until I find that perfect combination of flavors and ingredients, textures and tastes of the perfect verena… or until I get sick.

Please see the attached excel file, entitled “Verena Calculator” (patent pending) to grade your own local/homemade verena.

Attachments:

Verena Calculator

Thanks Kevin!

This is a rather short post of something that a Facebook update just wouldn’t cover. Let’s rewind about 2 months ago, our (John, Meghan, and myself) friend Kevin (who is also coincidentally from flagstaff, hooray!), had a camp on the north shore of Issy-Kul. Now, let me also preface this with the fact that not all volunteers live with host families, after the 3 months volunteers are relieved from their probationary period and are allowed to find their own housing accommodation, usually an apartment. This is not an option for some volunteers, who live in villages where there are no apartment complexes, yours truly. But Karakol is a relatively large city, so 90% of Karakol volunteers live on their own.

Kevin has a very nice apartment in Karakol, and is also one of our favorite places to crash at during our weekend trips into the city. Now Kevin was going to be gone for a month at this camp, so what does he do? Does he take his keys with him? Does he tell us all to stay with other volunteers? No, he handed us the keys to his apartment and tells us to have fun. Not expected, but very cool nonetheless. So far every volunteer in the city has been super cool with us staying at their place for weekend excursions but handing keys over with the only caveat being don’t burn the place down. Downright awesome!

John, Meghan and I were obviously very impressed by Kevin’s generosity, and felt we had to make it up to him in some way. So upon his arrival back from camp, we made him a feast of Mexican food. Now what maybe cheap back in the states, costs a fortune over here. I swear canned beans and flat bread (tortillas) were a majority of the cost. Not really, but were outrageously expensive. We went all out for this meal, we bought a whole chicken (cost us 2 full days of pay), rice, beans, and even chocolate for an amazing mole sauce. We go to a specialty cheese and meat shop and buy 200 grams, almost half a pound, of cheese. Then decide that 200 gr is not enough and buy another 200 to bring our total for the meal to about 1500 som. 33 dollars is a lot of money for one meal over here mind you… Now we go back and make a masterfully crafted Mexican feast, complete with beans, rice, and the first chicken enchiladas I’ve had in country, and they were amazing! So Kevin comes over just as the enchiladas were all gooey and fresh out of the oven. We all sit down and start eating our amazing meal, we all give our thanks to Kevin for his generosity with the apartment, and what does he say? “Guys, I’m a vegetarian.”

Go Buckeyes!

As with most developing countries, Kyrgyzstan has some of the most interesting written English you will ever see. Chinese imitation clothing is just about as popular as breathing in the KG. Shirts that have Latin script letters just for the sake of having letters are pretty popular, as are the Adidas fakes. The rip-offs are absolutely shameless with their copies. Words like ‘Trademark’ or ‘Copyright’ might as well be in… well, in English. You don’t see the off brands here where the colors are a little bit different or they use 4 stripes instead of 3 like in the states. Everything is exactly the same, everything except when some poor Chinese worker has to write in English. I have seen so many Abibas, Adibas, Addidas, and Ebbibas that seeing an actual pair is quite shocking.

Armani takes a close second for trendy Kyrgyz brands, I myself, recently purchased a nice pair of brown stretchy corduroys with fleece lining at Osh Bazaar made by the popular and most reputable, Armmannill of Shanghai. The sad truth of the matter is that the English language is by large associated with prosperity and affluency. And generally it is at the cost of grandmothers wearing shirts with large print curse words or manly men with shirts that say things like ‘sports girl’. Another reason I am glad to be teaching English on the side.

Another favorite are Kyrgyz toys. In Bishkek a while back I saw a nice little white and pink toy horse, any little Kyrgyz girl would love to play with. That is, until she finds out her ‘My Little Pony’ actually reads ‘Demon Donkey’ in nicely coordinated light blue lettering. A while later In Karakol I also found a toy gun emblazoned in bright red words a not-so-nice, ‘Kill! Kill! Kill!’. No wonder the boys are all so tentek here. Parents will soon be telling their children that their bad behavior is spawned not from watching too much television but from reading too many English words.

Coming from a place where even the cars are rumored to be Chinese rip-offs, the occasional real shirt makes for a huge and generally random surprise. Today I came home to my Apa wearing an Ohio State University shirt, it has the correct school colors, Ohio State logo and no misspellings- a true OSU original. I still have no idea where she got it. But needless to say, I completely lost it. We’re talking doubled over laughter, lost it. Go Buckeyes!

Food! ... I think.

Before you start reading this, go get a steak, Thai food, pizza, a good beer, or wine that doesn’t taste like it was made by Welch’s, and then come back. Seriously this can wait, sating you appetite with something that isn’t from the head of a sheep can’t. Not that all the food here is horrible, some of it is actually very good, but as they say, the highs are high and the lows are… well, are usually made of some unidentifiable organ.

But I’ll start with the good news, possibly my favorite food in country, which I actually have cravings of, is pluff. This, as the name suggests is a kind of pilaf, made with rice, carrots, sheep meat, and green onions. Pluff is always a winner and was my requested birthday meal. Next is monte, which are steamed dumplings with all sorts of fillings ranging from chives and pumpkin to sheep fat, (called mai) which is actually not bad in moderation. The homemade yogurt, is also very good, it is significantly more watery than yogurt in the states but is a nice healthy change to the constant marathon-prep-carb-loading that usually occurs every day.

Now for the not so exciting part. From day one we had all been warned about the sheep’s eye (think of a grape wrapped with calamari, chewy with a wet burst in the middle). But what we weren’t warned about was far worse. My first experience with the exotic was at PST, I walked into my youngest host sister crying because her older brother had stolen her last bit of … wait for it… spinal cord. They then proceeded to fight over a couple of connected vertebrae so they could suck on the spinal column for those last bits of nerve. Thankfully my host mother had saved some for me. A couple of weeks ago, I sat down to lunch which was a pile of noodles (typical) with a pile of steaming intestine on top (not typical… but not unusual, I’ve been told). I just hoped I wouldn’t find partially digested grass inside, like I said you should have probably eaten prior to reading this. Another national favorite is the mai, as aforementioned this winner is nothing but the pure fat that most people in the states cut off their steaks. But in KG, mai is the most sought after portion, right behind the eyeball that is, and my family says is also good for your heart. Coronary heart disease, and heart attacks only happen west of the International Date Line, western scientists are still looking into this phenomena.

Aside from the random, “What part of the animal did this come from?” moments, the food is better than I expected. Although I have given up on things like good cheese, protein, and salads, and when frying is the preferred method of cooking, it’s difficult not to be constantly eating something dripping with oil. Carbs are the staple nutrient in country, potatoes with pasta or rice and bread on the side is the go to combo. The only way to battle the endless carb overload is to keep active and embrace the permanent naan baby.

Tasty deliciousness...

'Borsok' - fried dough, basically a few cups of sugar and some glaze short of a Krispy Kreme.

I thought this day would never come...

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Finally all my efforts thus far have culminated into this one earth shattering spectacle.  What could nearly be described as a secondary project, with all the village cooperation and input I have recieved I am finally ready to come forth and unveil before the world the work and efforts of many.  After weeks, of constant second guessing and headaches, arguments and high tensions, the fruits of effort are ready to be consumed in one large knowledge pie. The people of Tasma, without whom this would never have been possible, and myself are very proud to present... my address!

Кыргызстан                    
Иссык-кул облусу           
Туп району                      
722413 Село тасма         
Кочо тынтай 48                 
Мэтью брутон                

Kyrgyzstan
Issyk-Kul Oblast
Tuup Rayon
722413 Tasma Village
Tintai St. #48
Matthew Bruton

If you are going to be so nice as to send me something (please do!!) write both, the English and Kyrgyz versions.  FYI care packages (which are AWESOME!!) get the best value if you get the flat rate box thru USPS, costs about $45 for shipping.

I, Matt Bruton, do solemnly swear...

Saturday,  June 12th, 2011

Whew! What a week! This has been one of the busiest yet. Since swearing in I have been in my village a total of 2 days. There have been constant seminars and meetings ever since the first of June, in every place except for my village. Since day one, everyone has been telling us that life in the KG is slow. Things just aren't developed enough to have expectations of anything other than marshrutkas* to move quickly. But if this past week is any indicator, I just don't see it...

Marshrutka  n.  See also: a 15 person vehicle that fits 30, one of the most uncomfortable and yet intimate experiences in country.

First off, swear in was amazing, because it is the 50th anniversary of the Peace Corps, the Country Director and staff went out of their way to make the event extra special. We rented out a large auditorium in downtown Bishkek, invited heads of state (many of which showed), host families, and future counterparts.  The American and Japanese Ambassadors both made speeches, and volunteers made several dance and song performances made the event a great success. You can watch videos of the performances and the Ambassador giving our oaths online, www.ustream.tv/channel/k-19.

After the ceremony and picnic that followed we once again loaded up, this time for good, and said our sorrowful goodbyes.  Because this is Kyrgyzstan (TIK) we crammed 8 people, including 3 volunteers' belongings for the next 2 years, into a Chinese version of a Dodge Plymouth and drove 7 hours to the eastern shore of the lake. Like I said, the most intimate moments generally occur whilst hurtling through space at pee-yourself-speeds.

Two days after I arrived in Tasma, and much convincing later, I found myself in Karakol, the capital of Issyk-Kul, wandering semi-aimlessly until fellow K-19s Meghan and John showed up several hours later. We had agreed to come check out the city the first weekend together.  Karakol is a beautiful place with the lake on one side and the Ala-Too range on the other, which would and does make a great base camp for tourists looking for some outdoor activity.  One of the largest glaciers in the world is accessible via Karakol, as well as hundreds of backpacking and mountaineering trips- which I plan on taking as many as possible.

 Bishkek was a week of seminar after seminar. Yawn. The first of which was put on by the US Dept. of Commerce, which means they had some serious money! The cool thing about this was that Mike, a fellow PCV and myself were the only English speakers, meaning everyone was given a mic and an ear piece for translation into Kyrgyz, English, and Russian (picture the U.N. - Crazy!)  following the seminar the speakers took us out for the best lunch drinks we have had in country thus far, though its not difficult to beat 15 som plastic cups of vodka. 

I finally got back to Tasma today, whew! Which takes a lot more work that one would think. As I mentioned in a previous post, taxis only leave my village at about 8 am and return again at about 2. Needless to say I missed my half an hour window; not to mention I have no idea where the taxis going to Tasma leave Karakol from, I'll put it on the 'things to figure out' list right next to finding healthy food. A marshrutka (which presumably still has my cell phone) dropped me off about 14 kilometers away from my village, uh-oh.  So I did what any risk-averse and safety oriented volunteer would do in a foreign country, I hitchhiked. This is actually quite a common way for people to travel in country. Virtually every car on the road is a taxi, you can't drive 5 kilometers without seeing someone hitching with either their groceries, children, family cow, a new yurt, etc.

But on a more serious note, I miss everyone and I really appreciate all the emails and quick notes I've been getting, things get lonely out here, I mean really lonely, so thanks for all the hellos! And I PROMISE I will write you back even if it takes me a little while, if there is anything you'd like to know or want to hear about I'd be happy to send a more personalized email or write a post about something in particular. i.e., ridiculous medical practices, and ahhh.... interesting food items. But have a good night and I hope you are all well, I miss and love you all!

The Quaint Village of Tasma

I'm glad I brought my cowboy boots

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Just over a week ago I returned from a visit to my permenant site.  The whole thing was quite an ordeal. All the volunteers went back to the Issyk-Kul Hotel in Bishkek (where we had our 3 day orientation) and met up with our new host families. It felt very similar to our first matching ceremony 2 months ago.  Anticipation and nerves were high but everyone was very excited dispite. 

We walked in and immediately were handed a stack of paperwork and information, with family names addresses and lease information. We began by dividing up into groups by Oblast (kind of like states). The host mothers of each Oblast formed a small circle facing outward and we formed a larger circle facing in toward them. We were to ask their names and if it matched the name on our information sheet we had found our new Appa! Twice I asked "Sizden atonus kim?" before I found my Appa, who rushed up and gave me a big hug!  After our matching icebreaker (Peace Corps LOVES their icebreakers) we sat down and started filling out our paperwork.  About 30 minutes after we met our new host mothers we were once again thrust into taxis and sent on our way.

The drive was just over 6 hours, I rode with a volunteer Maddie, who until recently, was placed in a neighboring village. By neighboring I mean about 20 km away, as far as I can tell, I am one of the more isolated volunteers, but more on that later.  Maddie is one of 3 Russian speaking volunteers, and was conveniently placed in a pure Kyrgyz village with a Kyrgyz speaking host site. Bad news bears (BNB hereafter) for her. We stopped for some produce in Tokmok about an hour out from Bishkek and again at a roadside cafe for lunch, where we bumped into some fellow PCTs on their way to Naryn (Oblast south of Issyk-kul).  I ended up sleeping most of the way. We stretched our legs a couple of times once we got to the lake and again when we dropped Maddie off, by which time about 6 hours had passed. Apparently we were quite late. My new and very angry Atta called yelling at my Appa, after which he proceeded to yell at the taxi driver as well. Fast forward to my arrival, my first impression of Atta is that of a very angry Kyrgyz man running out of the gate and verbally assaulting everyone and their livestock for our lateness. But first impression aside, he is a very nice and actually quite funny man with whom I had several good conversations. Keep in mind a good conversation is anything more than, 'What is your name?' 'Where are you from?' and 'Do you like Plov?'.  My new host family is Appa, Atta, a Karandash, and an Inni (thats mom, dad, little sister, and little brother) My host bother and sister are 6 and 10 and very helpful. Generally anyone between 5 and 10 are very patient and at about the same average level of education, i.e., what good is a college degree if you can't speak to anyone?

The next day my Appa took me around my village, Tasma, and introduced me to my NGO, a wool and handicraft organization, the village mayor, the local post office (I can finally get mail safely!!), and even had the sheriff over for tea!  Even though I'm very close to Karakol, which is a major resort destination for Russians, getting in and out of my village is actually quite difficult.  I'm 15 kilometers off the main through road to Bishkek, and another 15 kilometers down a dirt road. Taxis only leave the village between 7:30 and 8:00 am, and arrive again between 1:00 and 2:00 pm. So if I miss my window of opportunity to leave or come back, I'll be stuck overnight in Karakol.  The village its self is super small, with 4 main 'roads' and 2000 people, the only other person who speaks a little English is actually a Japanese volunteer who works next door to my NGO.  It's situated near some small hills and has a beautiful view of the mountains that form the border with Kazakhstan.

My NGO, Ak Shoola, is a handicraft organization and consists of 8 women and 2 men who work 6, 8 hour days a week. They have been fairly well established and have already received a grant for a wool separator (major accomplishment) and are currently exporting handicrafts to Japan, I think with help from the Japanese volunteer.  So far as I can tell, my counterpart has told me that my primary project will be figuring out how to export to the United States. (Any help here would be HUGE!) The NGO buys the wool from all the villagers and sells the handicrafts to tourists in Karakol and to importers in Japan.

Most volunteers are excited about their sites and are looking forward to moving to permanent site and living like adults again.  There is also a huge sense of separation anxiety among everyone. After spending everyday with fellow volunteers and families, many people are saddened to see each other go.

The Fam

My PST host family! My atta and inni (host father and little brother), are the 2 on the far left, my AJ and karandash (older sister and younger sister), are the two sitting on the floor, and my appa (host mother) is the second from the right.

Permanent site placement!

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Exactly one week after the announcement of our permanent sites we are disembarking for a visit to our homes for the next two years! Yikes! Last Wednesday, our permanent sites were announced in a draft style fashion. Program Managers (PMs) announced names and handed out envelopes and we were to stand on a large map of Kyrgyzstan according to our placements. After weeks of anticipation I was placed in ..... ISSYK-KUL OBLAST!!!!

Tasma village, northeast of Karakol is a village with 3 or 4 stores and a post office, will be my home for the next 2 years! I actually couldn't ask for more. I am in a village about 45 minutes away from a major city, in the mountains and close to the lake, there are 3 other volunteers within 30 minutes and a good friend from my language group within an hour from my site. Sounds perfect to me! I will be working with a handicrafts organization who produces scarves, gloves, purses, and other felted souvenirs (taking orders soon!). My PM has told me they need help with accounting but I'll find out more as soon as I visit the site, permanent sites are rarely that straight forward. A volunteer from the previous year also working in handicrafts was able to create a web site and has been selling bulk handicrafts back to the states.

Everyone is pretty nervous and excited about meeting families and visiting the our new homes. It will be a similar event to the matching ceremony in March. Gathering together, matched and sent off by taxi or other public transportation to far ends of Kyrgyzstan. Mine is a 6 hour drive, to the other side of the country. We are visiting for a few days, staying with our new host families and visiting our permanent sites, to see what we are in for for the next 2 years!

PST

May 2, 2011

Since our arrival in country, just over a month ago we have been going through PST, Pre-Service Training. Typically a three month training in language, culture, logistics, medical, and other topic relating to our 24 month service, ours has unfortunately been cut to two months. Although I generally go home with a headache from over use, it has been wonderful! As of right now, our job is to do no more than learn the language and culture, living expenses are covered by Peace Corps and food is taken care of by host families. Rough life, let me tell you! My language group is amazing and we have all gotten to be good friends. We will often hang out after class and on our one free day, Sunday.

However, learning the language has been, ah, challenging. Although its generally accepted that Kyrgyz is easier than Russian, I still speak like a 2 year old, when, on the off hand that I say something intelligible. The Kyrgyz language has a case system and a different verb conjugation for just about every imaginable situation. Which I imagine will be easy enough as soon as I can remember the 30 different word endings. We have been having language every day except Wednesday (and there are rumors of cutting our Saturday classes too) and Sunday. Language class usually goes from 8:30 to 5:00, like I said after the sponge is full, the headache usually ensues.

Wednesdays are our hub day, all 42 of us get together at an orphanage in a nearby village to do culture, medical, other trainings, and hand out paperwork, passports, etc. The pictures on Seth's picassa page entitled 'culture day' (link of my FB) are all at the orphanage. Tuesday and Thursday are split between language and technical sessions. Tyler, myself, and the rest of the SOCD (sustainable organization and community development) volunteers have been meeting at the First School, (not to be confused with either the second or third schools- gotta love those soviets!) for instruction on basic business principals, economic situations, facilitation trainings, training trainings, and other plans to make plans. We have taken several trips into Bishkek to meet NGOs and even a visit to the embassy to discuss other grant opportunities offered.

This is the start of the famed week 7, the week in which we find out our permanent sites as well! It has been a huge mystery for all of us. Until last Friday not even the Country Director knew where we were going to be placed. We had a site placement interview in week 4 to discuss where we wanted to live for the duration of service. Not that we really know anything about the any of the oblasts (states) here, we still had a little say in what climate and what kind of organization we want to work with. Which ever site we have been given, we will make it work, I have been much more concerned with who I will be living with, family and other volunteers. I have seriously been having nightmares about the permanent site placement. During my site placement I had requested a smaller village, near a city, and preferably in the Naryn or Issyk-Kul oblasts. My thoughts were, that as long as I'm in the 'Switzerland of Central Asia' I want to be right in the middle of the mountains! Well only 2 days until the unveiling I'll keep you posted!

The Happy Birthday Issue!

Monday, April 25, 2011

Hello from GMT +6:00! The early risers back in AZ should be waking up right about now while I'm preparing for some dinner, most likely left overs from my Appa's birthday celebration last night, pluff (a turkish sort of rice pilaf) and sheep meat.  Last night's festivities which reached pretty late into the evening had us cleaning until the early morning hours. Sunday's activities always consist of cleaning up around the house and because of our guests my host sisters and brother were put on triple duty with chores and cooking which started well before I woke. I took my weekly shower after a nice sunday morning run to a neighboring village and started in on my laundry which hadn't been done for about 2 weeks. Gross! All morning my host sisters had been preparing for the ensuing feast, chopping potatoes, skinning carrots, making salads and preparing for a huge soup stew dish that was to be one of the main courses. While my host brother took care of the 2 dozen or so sheep we have as well as the rest of the small barn yard. It was quite reminescent of my own childhood, turns out forced child labor isn't just an American past time!

I'll do my best to convey a traditional Kyrgyz dinner but there are a lot of elusive datails that I'm sure I have yet to even pick up on. Guests started to arrive at 5 or 6 in the evening and the first tea course was served shortly after. The dinner was served with the best dishes, tea cups and silverware right on the floor with special rugs to sit on while the food completly covered the tablecloth, and I mean COMPLETLY covered the tablecloth. There were meat and cheese spreads, breads, salads and copious amounts of tea for the first course. Between the large dishes small balls of fried bread called borsok filled in the holes. During this whole time only the adults sat, that is my host father and our guests. My host mother, effectively the guest of honor, was frantically running around preparing the 5 gallons of stew for the main course, pouring tea and refilling plates. This is usually where a 'Kailin' would come in, that is the youngest married son's wife. It is a Kailin's duty to prepare and serve pretty much everything. Especially during the dinner,  I'm not perfectly clear on the exact roles but this is how it has been explained and what I've been able to see from when one is around. Because our family doesn't have a Kailin, my host mother and sisters take up all of the slack here, one of my sisters or mother would always be sitting down, refilling tea, grabbing up dirty plates, even spooning more food onto plates! A person would hand them an empty cup and it was filled, all without a word exchanged!  I've even been told NOT to say thank you, else you might come across as rude. Coming from one of the most progressive countries in the world, this has been... interesting.  After the tea and salads everyone got up to to stretch out for a while between courses. I went outside to force my help upon the family just in time to watch as 5 gallons of boiling deliciousness was dropped and completely poured onto the ground! Wow, those were some angry women!

The rest of the meal went without incident and was even entertained by some silly american thinking he could sing a Kyrgyz song! After dinner and a series of toasts, as is custom, the night was filled with Kyrgyz music, the dancing started counting the hours quickly by. Soon after the families went home and left us with massive amounts of left overs and cleaning for us to do. This has been the first truely traditional Kyrgyz meal I have been able to attend, however several other volunteers have been to weddings, and even a party dedicated to a baby's first step.

On a related note, another birthday this past week belonged to one of our own. Preston Clark turned 29 last week, a card was made and signed by almost all of the K-19s. Our LCF, Ymyt brought cake and coke in for a small party during class. We learned some Kyrgyz toasts and had a little celebration before we went out to the local, yes the local pizza place, where we had a couple beers and some nearly American pizza with some trainees from other groups. The last of the birthdays go to my sister Sarah and my Dad which happened earlier this month. Happy Birthday guys! Wish I could be there!

KUR-guh-stan

Saturday, March 02, 2011

Its hard to think I was still in the US a week ago. The past 7 days have been eventful to say the least, the past week has seen a few different countries several different languages many new friends and even a new family.  Countless hours in airports and planes, several freak outs and security checkpoints later, all 43 K-19 (the 19th PC group to visit Kyrgyzstan) members walked into the Manas International Airport/Transit Center to gather luggage and meet the KG staff (who would also introduce us to the wonderful world of acronyms) who was meeting us at the airport.

Upon reaching the parking lot we were met by a motley group of K-18s and staff members dressed up as penguins, rabbits, and other characters who might have stepped out of a Lewis Carroll novel.  It was a welcome greeting after hours of mundane/sleepless travel.  By the time we checked into the Issi-kul Hotel in Bishkek it was 4:45 am local time, which really made no difference as 22 hours of no sleep will wont to do.  The first night was the probably the best sleep I have had since I left Philly.  The next 3 days were filled with orientation, cultural, Kyrgyz (KER-gez) language, and technical training that were to prepare us for our 3 month training- that is training for training. After meeting all 42 other trainees, attachments were formed and camaraderie was quickly established which oddly gave many of us a sense of separation anxiety upon leaving for our host families.  Wednesday morning we gathered into our language groups and went into Bishkek for a quick internet visit and to buy flowers for our host mothers. It was reminiscent of a kindergarten field trip; stay together, use the buddy system, don't talk to strangers, line up alphabetically, hold hands when crossing the street, etc. This was in fact the first time we had seen anything of the country besides the hotel, which could have served as a Soviet barracks for all its concrete and simplicity- nevertheless we were excited to finally leave the compound. We were ordered to pack and prepare to depart for Kant City about 45 mins east of the city where my language group will be training and where we officially become PSTs. During the ceremony we watched a video of the 17s' and 18s' projects and families, listened to several welcome talks. After which we were ushered on stage of the large auditorium met our host families and were promptly whisked away to parts of Kant unknown.

I arrived at my new home to a nicely furnished room and promptly unpacked-- and passed out. Still somewhat aloof of the local time I was awakened for dinner where we struggled through simple -and I mean simple- conversation. After I learned the age, name and where everyone was from. Silence engulfed us, heavy awkward, palpable silence.....    No, it wasn't really that bad, I have learned to come to dinner with a notebook (deptere) pen (rootchka) and dictionary (sozduk), however. The food has been very good, we were warned that men loose 10 lbs and women gain 10 lbs during the 3 months of PST, and I definitely will not be losing any weight for all the bread and homemade jams (YUM! Like whoa!!) The Kyrgyz are a hospitality based culture, that is they feed you too much expecting you to leave food on your plate and tea in your cup. Coming from 18 years of 'clean your plate' I'm finding this very difficult to grapple with without overeating a tremendous amount. 

The next morning I was woken by my host mother (my appa) ate breakfast and was walked to school, that's right WAS WALKED TO SCHOOL by my appa - about 10 minutes away. My class consists of 5 other volunteers, Emma, Tyler, Keely, Caitlin and Preston, with whom I roomed in Philly and Bishkek (and who is from Pinetop AZ what!). I was late :(  ... by a half an hour! I don't have a phone, alarm clock or watch, so I've been depending on my host mother to wake me and tell me what time it is- which has been working out reasonably well ever since. To this point (day 3) we have been doing nothing but language, then we walk to one of our host families (mine was today!!!) for lunch and back to school for another 3 hours of language- intense like hippies! Today (Saturday) we were able to use the internet in town but have been severely limited to our host site, and school.

The first impressions I have gotten from this trip is that the logistics of the trip so far are that of a very well oiled machine. Everything regarding integration has been in baby steps, so much so that many of us feel like we are little more than children- and in many cases we are. For example, the process of cultural integration, the first in Philly, although indeed a culture of its own, no doubt American, then orientation in Bishkek, we were to remain on premises with our fellow trainees and interaction was limited to the native Kyrgyz staff, then Wednesday, we are allowed into the community in a group with a leader for a few hours, that is - L... I.... MITED! Now we are at our host sites living within the community but still limited to school and home. Like I said baby steps- the culture shock was non-existent. 

Whatever Thailand was, this is well... the opposite. Granted travel is travel where ever you go, the way we have been going about things so far is very different. When I could get WiFi in the jungle, I can't get it in cities here. And where there was leisurely snorkeling on beaches, I find myself running in business attire to make engagements on time. I'm booked 24-7, today they even set aside a time for personal business, which is Monday from 3 to 5. Not kidding. Week one is a poor sample for the rest of training so I'm going to hold off on "an average day of a PST" for a bit as things have yet to settle down. And as far as political unrest is concerned, I know a few of you have asked, no news is good news, and there is no anticipation of non-peaceful demonstrations. Jokshey Calungus!

Hello everybody...

Two years and two months after I was officially nominated to Morocco I find myself sitting in a hotel room in Phili waiting to go to Kyrgyzstan.

Two years ago I applied to the Peace Corps somewhat flippantly thinking that by the time the trip leaves for Morocco I will probably have found a real job and settled down a little thereby postponing if not canceling my service altogether. Well we all know how that went; here I sit on my way to a completely different country speaking who knows what living who knows where.  I flew out of Flagstaff, the day before yesterday, Thursday the 24th, at 6:45 am, said my good byes, and tearily got my plane to Phoenix.  Thus far, my biggest anxiety was saying good bye to friends and family, once we embarked from Phoenix it was how am I going to get to my hotel in Philly without getting mugged?  Upon retrieving my bags I met a fellow volunteer, Megan, with whom I shared a $45 (ouch!)  cab to the hotel on the outskirts of the city, wallet intact. Megan and I were the first two volunteers to arrive, after a much needed shower and settling into the hotel we met up again for dinner. Sometime during dinner my roommate for the orientation arrived, Preston, from Pinetop, AZ! And we actually ended up sharing a mutual friend from school.

I had been super excited to meet my fellow volunteers who would be an invaluable resource and support network as we were all going to be going through the same emotional and logistical issues. Orientation started the next day at noon, where we met the rest of the volunteers and went through a  briefing which included ice breakers, expectations of and for volunteers, anxieties and aspirations, potential threats we could face, logistics of our trip and a few team working exercises. After orientation our group reconviened to grab dinner and a last social drink in the States. This morning we woke up early to catch our bus to JFK and headed out. Our flight leaves at about 5 pm eastern time for Istanbul where we have a 6 hour layover. We are suggested to NOT leave the airport as missing our connection will result in termination of service.

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