March 25, 2008
Sunday evening I spent the night on a train that was built around 1948. From Yoloten to Ashgabat it took roughly eleven hours. ELEVEN HOURS in a tiny compartment two doors down from the grosses toilet i've ever seen in my life.
It was a long eleven hours.
Then in an attempt to purchase a ticket back home yesterday I jumped into a mosh pit of people at the Ashgabat station and shoved my passport through the window like everyone else was doing.
Well the lady next to me wasn't cool with that.
She took the four passports in her hand, smacked my passport out of the way, shoving hers through the window in front screaming at me the whole time.
"I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU," I sang triumphantly. Usually in situations of confrontation I shake and cry and can't handle it. But seeing that I couldn't understand her rudeness, it didn't affect me at all.
And when she was informed there were no tickets for her destination and she walked away defeated, I smiled at her, shoved my passport through the window and was walking successfully away with my ticket in hand in less than a minute.
Patience is the key to success. And train tickets.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Needing Friends in High Places
March 24, 2008
If anyone, anyone at all has an idea of how to make friends at the aerokassa, please, please let me know.
I am starting to think that there’s no way out of this country.
Even if you speak perfect Russian…perfect Turkmen, have perfect and legitimate affiliation with travel in Turkmenistan, it’s not easy to leave.
It all comes down to three women.
That’s right- you know who I’m talking about. The three aerokassa ladies that control EVERYTHING.
They glare from behind their little windows spitting out false information and ignoring requests for more.
Maybe a small gift would better my chances…a bribe of some sort…
There has to be a way for me to take a vacation this summer. There has to be a way to acquire an airline ticket.
What, I ask, is the key to an aerokassa woman’s heart?
Maybe a nice fruit basket…a box of chocolates…
Ideas are much appreciated. I must vacate, and if I can’t even get a damn price of a ticket out of these women then I haven’t a clue how I’m supposed to actually acquire one physically.
If anyone, anyone at all has an idea of how to make friends at the aerokassa, please, please let me know.
I am starting to think that there’s no way out of this country.
Even if you speak perfect Russian…perfect Turkmen, have perfect and legitimate affiliation with travel in Turkmenistan, it’s not easy to leave.
It all comes down to three women.
That’s right- you know who I’m talking about. The three aerokassa ladies that control EVERYTHING.
They glare from behind their little windows spitting out false information and ignoring requests for more.
Maybe a small gift would better my chances…a bribe of some sort…
There has to be a way for me to take a vacation this summer. There has to be a way to acquire an airline ticket.
What, I ask, is the key to an aerokassa woman’s heart?
Maybe a nice fruit basket…a box of chocolates…
Ideas are much appreciated. I must vacate, and if I can’t even get a damn price of a ticket out of these women then I haven’t a clue how I’m supposed to actually acquire one physically.
Veggies in the HOUSE
March 23, 2008
Fresh vegetables are all around us now that spring has arrived and to celebrate its glory I made a massive salad a couple days ago.
“You can’t eat that!” various members of my host family said as they saw what I was making.
“You’re going to EAT that without cooking it?” they would ask. “But, why?”
“Angela, that’s not food,” my host mother said disapprovingly.
I didn’t care. I ate it with such joy and enthusiasm you would have thought it was served on a crystal platter with a glass of chardonnay at my side.
The taste of raw vegetables inside my mouth was simply indescribable and I just smiled and chewed while everyone looked at me like I was from another planet.
“I’ve been here three months now,” I told them. “I’ve eaten your food for three months. I love it, it’s great, but I need this. I am to vegetables as you are to bread.”
“Yes, yes, we understand,” they said.
But they still think I’m nuts…and that’s quite alright.
Fresh vegetables are all around us now that spring has arrived and to celebrate its glory I made a massive salad a couple days ago.
“You can’t eat that!” various members of my host family said as they saw what I was making.
“You’re going to EAT that without cooking it?” they would ask. “But, why?”
“Angela, that’s not food,” my host mother said disapprovingly.
I didn’t care. I ate it with such joy and enthusiasm you would have thought it was served on a crystal platter with a glass of chardonnay at my side.
The taste of raw vegetables inside my mouth was simply indescribable and I just smiled and chewed while everyone looked at me like I was from another planet.
“I’ve been here three months now,” I told them. “I’ve eaten your food for three months. I love it, it’s great, but I need this. I am to vegetables as you are to bread.”
“Yes, yes, we understand,” they said.
But they still think I’m nuts…and that’s quite alright.
Friday, March 14, 2008
:)
March 13, 2008
Today at the little Russian bakery by my school I dropped my sunglasses and when the sweet Russian lady behind the counter saw that they had broken, she said, “Oh no! I will take you to my brother.”
So we walked down the street to find her brother who took my sunglasses, fixed them and cleaned them off in less than two minutes.
The point to my story is not about the sunglasses though…I successfully had a conversation in Russian with this wonderful woman, and her brother. I’m pretty darn proud of myself right now.
Yesterday I was called into my director’s office and given a package of cookies and a letter from my friend who lives in a tiny village twenty minutes away. She told me later that she just saw a dude with a car and asked him if he was going to Yoloten. When he said yes, she handed him some money and the package asking to deliver it to me at the school.
It’s a perfect means of communication when phones don’t work.
I hopped in a taxi to visit her in the afternoon and was awestruck once again by the beautiful simplicity of the oba life. There’s only one street in her village…
There’s something about the peaceful aura of the oba that I truly love.
Today at the little Russian bakery by my school I dropped my sunglasses and when the sweet Russian lady behind the counter saw that they had broken, she said, “Oh no! I will take you to my brother.”
So we walked down the street to find her brother who took my sunglasses, fixed them and cleaned them off in less than two minutes.
The point to my story is not about the sunglasses though…I successfully had a conversation in Russian with this wonderful woman, and her brother. I’m pretty darn proud of myself right now.
Yesterday I was called into my director’s office and given a package of cookies and a letter from my friend who lives in a tiny village twenty minutes away. She told me later that she just saw a dude with a car and asked him if he was going to Yoloten. When he said yes, she handed him some money and the package asking to deliver it to me at the school.
It’s a perfect means of communication when phones don’t work.
I hopped in a taxi to visit her in the afternoon and was awestruck once again by the beautiful simplicity of the oba life. There’s only one street in her village…
There’s something about the peaceful aura of the oba that I truly love.
Oba for Life
March 8, 2008
I went to the oba today and it was awesome. We climbed on top of haystacks, played with chickens and made the cows very angry.
Life in the country is pretty sweet.
I even peed in an outhouse with no door or roof while a giant bull stared at me the whole time.
Life in the oba isn’t easy though…the nearest water source in this village was half a mile down the road and there was only one banya per I don’t know how many families to bathe in.
To give myself the ultimate culture shock I visited the Yoloten disco this evening after I returned from the oba…. surrounded by beautiful Russians dressed in their best and Enrique Eglesias pounding through my ears, it was one of the most interesting nights I’ve had in this cute little town.
Obas are cool
Discos rule
It’s days like these that I never want to leave Turkmenistan.
I went to the oba today and it was awesome. We climbed on top of haystacks, played with chickens and made the cows very angry.
Life in the country is pretty sweet.
I even peed in an outhouse with no door or roof while a giant bull stared at me the whole time.
Life in the oba isn’t easy though…the nearest water source in this village was half a mile down the road and there was only one banya per I don’t know how many families to bathe in.
To give myself the ultimate culture shock I visited the Yoloten disco this evening after I returned from the oba…. surrounded by beautiful Russians dressed in their best and Enrique Eglesias pounding through my ears, it was one of the most interesting nights I’ve had in this cute little town.
Obas are cool
Discos rule
It’s days like these that I never want to leave Turkmenistan.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Who Loves Kiwi?
March 6, 2008
Two days ago when I wasn’t looking, one of my students wrote on the board, “There is nothing greater in the world than Angela.”
That brought a huge smile to my face.
Two days ago when I wasn’t looking, one of my students wrote on the board, “There is nothing greater in the world than Angela.”
That brought a huge smile to my face.
They've been bringing me presents over the last few days for World Wide Women's Day this Saturday, March 8. Sometimes I think I'm going crazy and sometimes I think this is the greatest place in the world.
My host cousin is learning English at the same pace that I’m learning Russian, so we’ve become each others’ language support system. We help each other understand grammar, complain on and on about what we hate about each other’s language and often we’ll test each other by exchanging words.
“Kiwi,” I said to her today with a smile. It's the same in both languages :)
“Kiwi…kiwi…” she mumbled, flipping through her notes. “Ah, I forgot kiwi,” she said as she tried to find the word.
I couldn’t hold it in any longer and just started laughing hysterically.
“KIWI!” she yelled. “Ooooooh, Angela…”
Monday, March 03, 2008
A Not So Happy Spring
On my trip into the city a few days ago there was no Internet at the Internet café, no money in the bank, and no mail for me at the post office and I thought well this is just typical.
Everything was spiraling downward and I felt the anger and frustration boiling up again. I was so upset at the students in my school…so upset about the amount of disrespect…so upset at the system in general, so upset with myself for not having better language skills…
It had to stop. I HAD to step back and realize I can’t understand where they’re coming from just as much as they can’t understand me. I HAD to step back and realize that I needed to start developing some patience…NOW.
Knowledge and understanding are extremely different.
Standing in front of a room full of confused high school kids yelling, "Why am I even here?" isn’t going to make anything better. It only makes the anger escalate.
And throwing kids out of class might make me look like tough shit but it makes me feel awful.
It was a bad week, and there will be worse in the future.
But at least I now have a little more strength and a little more courage and I’m not going to give up.
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