Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
LIVE!!!!!!!!! From Kazakhstan!
As I sit in Almaty National Airport waiting to see if I can get on a flight back tonight, I'd like to reflect on how lovely the past week and a half has been...
Kyrgyzstan is beautiful...I can see why it's called the Switzerland of Central Asia. All of Central Asia has similar characteristics as far as food, culture, language, clothes, etc, yet the differences are pretty funny. I know spending a week in a country doesn't make me an expert, but this is what I noticed...
Getting a taxi in Kyrgyzstan:
Walk up to the car with the big yellow "TAXI" sign on top. Tell the driver where you want to go. Get in.
Getting a taxi in Turkmenistan:
Stand on the side of the road and put your hand out. Tell the driver where you need to go and hope he'll take you. Argue about the price for a few minutes. Get in.
Using internet in Kyrgyzstan:
Walk into the internet cafe and sit down in front of one of the 25 computers. Use internet. Pay and leave.
Using internet in Turkmenistan:
Pray over and over that the wind that day hasn't disrupted internet access. Walk into the internet cafe. Wait 45 minutes for one of the six computers. Sit down in front of a computer. Wait another twenty five minutes for the first page to load. Give up. Pay and leave.
Buying food in Kyrgyzstan:
Walk into the grocery store. Select food items and proceed to the checkout. Pay and leave.
Buying food in Turkmenistan:
Get up early because the bazaar is only open until noon. Wander around finding fruits and vegetables in season and compare everyone's prices. Buy an extra plastic bag because of course you forgot to bring some. Say hi to all the venders you know and talk about how good their kids are doing in class. Promise to teach about five new people English. Browse through the new material and discuss getting a new dress made. Buy an ice cream and make any last minute purchases. Give extra change to the blind man and the pregnant lady who always sit outside the bazaar. Go home.
It's a beautiful life.
Kyrgyzstan is beautiful...I can see why it's called the Switzerland of Central Asia. All of Central Asia has similar characteristics as far as food, culture, language, clothes, etc, yet the differences are pretty funny. I know spending a week in a country doesn't make me an expert, but this is what I noticed...
Getting a taxi in Kyrgyzstan:
Walk up to the car with the big yellow "TAXI" sign on top. Tell the driver where you want to go. Get in.
Getting a taxi in Turkmenistan:
Stand on the side of the road and put your hand out. Tell the driver where you need to go and hope he'll take you. Argue about the price for a few minutes. Get in.
Using internet in Kyrgyzstan:
Walk into the internet cafe and sit down in front of one of the 25 computers. Use internet. Pay and leave.
Using internet in Turkmenistan:
Pray over and over that the wind that day hasn't disrupted internet access. Walk into the internet cafe. Wait 45 minutes for one of the six computers. Sit down in front of a computer. Wait another twenty five minutes for the first page to load. Give up. Pay and leave.
Buying food in Kyrgyzstan:
Walk into the grocery store. Select food items and proceed to the checkout. Pay and leave.
Buying food in Turkmenistan:
Get up early because the bazaar is only open until noon. Wander around finding fruits and vegetables in season and compare everyone's prices. Buy an extra plastic bag because of course you forgot to bring some. Say hi to all the venders you know and talk about how good their kids are doing in class. Promise to teach about five new people English. Browse through the new material and discuss getting a new dress made. Buy an ice cream and make any last minute purchases. Give extra change to the blind man and the pregnant lady who always sit outside the bazaar. Go home.
It's a beautiful life.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Waiting...for a Visa...
Waiting waiting for a visa
Eating Eating lots of pizza
I'm getting fat from all this food
But it's just so so good
I'm stuck in Bishkek until next week
My outlook is turning bleak
Maybe I'll drink lots of liquor
But that will just make me sicker
I really really miss my friends
I can't wait till this trip ends
I shouldn't complain, what's done is done
But I just miss the Kara Kum
Eating Eating lots of pizza
I'm getting fat from all this food
But it's just so so good
I'm stuck in Bishkek until next week
My outlook is turning bleak
Maybe I'll drink lots of liquor
But that will just make me sicker
I really really miss my friends
I can't wait till this trip ends
I shouldn't complain, what's done is done
But I just miss the Kara Kum
Monday, August 18, 2008
Animosity
Naturally the Kazakh embassy misprinted my visa...I applied for two entries so I could get back to Almaty and fly out back to Ashgabat.
Unfortunately they decided I'd only get one.
So I spent the morning at the embassy...AGAIN. I waited AGAIN. I was sent out in the city to the appropriate bank to pay the fee AGAIN. After returning and waiting in line AGAIN I was turned away AGAIN because my passport and visa copies were on two separate papers.
How could I have thought they would be able to look at TWO pieces of paper instead of ONE?
So then I had a nervous breakdown and freaked out...calmed myself down a bit...went on a search for a copy machine.
Upon returning I waited AGAIN and when I finally got back up to that damn window I was told I could not, in fact, get a transit visa to Almaty. I must have a TOURIST visa. And I also must write a letter to the consulate detailing the reason for my visit and all the lovely sites I'd like to see in the Republic of Kazakhstan.
So I wrote the letter. Signed it. Shoved it back through the window to the greatest jerk on the planet.
He glared at me and told me to come back Friday at 6:30...making sure I'd miss my flight and be completely stuck in Bishkek.
He handed me a declaration form and I started to have another nervous breakdown.
He laughed in my face.
I am so tired of people being mean to me. I want to go home.
Unfortunately they decided I'd only get one.
So I spent the morning at the embassy...AGAIN. I waited AGAIN. I was sent out in the city to the appropriate bank to pay the fee AGAIN. After returning and waiting in line AGAIN I was turned away AGAIN because my passport and visa copies were on two separate papers.
How could I have thought they would be able to look at TWO pieces of paper instead of ONE?
So then I had a nervous breakdown and freaked out...calmed myself down a bit...went on a search for a copy machine.
Upon returning I waited AGAIN and when I finally got back up to that damn window I was told I could not, in fact, get a transit visa to Almaty. I must have a TOURIST visa. And I also must write a letter to the consulate detailing the reason for my visit and all the lovely sites I'd like to see in the Republic of Kazakhstan.
So I wrote the letter. Signed it. Shoved it back through the window to the greatest jerk on the planet.
He glared at me and told me to come back Friday at 6:30...making sure I'd miss my flight and be completely stuck in Bishkek.
He handed me a declaration form and I started to have another nervous breakdown.
He laughed in my face.
I am so tired of people being mean to me. I want to go home.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
We LOVE Americans!
Standing on the street at 1:30 in the morning in Ashgabat my friend and I searched desperately for someone to take us to the airport. She was on her way to Turkey, and I was going to Bishkek.
Five minutes later a group of three boys pulled up in a blue BMW, laughing wildly with their music blaring.
"WHERE YOU GO????????" They yelled.
"To the airport," we said. "Will you take us?"
"Ahhhhhh TOO FAR!" they replied and took off.
So we waited until five minutes later they sped back around, smiled widely and said, "We changed our minds! GET IN! You're American!!!!!!"
We jumped into the car and took off with what turned out to be the three coolest guys I've ever met in Turkmenistan.
"We love Americans! We're so glad you're here! We'll take you for free!"
And so the ride went like that, a non-stop conversation of broken Turkmen, Russian and English. We arrived to the airport and they got out of the car, helped us through security, and offered to stay and wait or bring me back to their house to hang out for awhile since my flight didn't leave for a few more hours.
"Really, I'm good! It's okay!" I assured them. We exchanged phone numbers and decided we would definitely hang out when I got back to Turkmenistan.
"ANGELA we'll call you when you get back!!! We friends!" they said. "We LOVE Americans!"
Where else will a car full of really cool guys give you a free ride all the way to the airport and make you laugh your butt off the whole entire time because they're just so damn awesome?
I love this country.
Five minutes later a group of three boys pulled up in a blue BMW, laughing wildly with their music blaring.
"WHERE YOU GO????????" They yelled.
"To the airport," we said. "Will you take us?"
"Ahhhhhh TOO FAR!" they replied and took off.
So we waited until five minutes later they sped back around, smiled widely and said, "We changed our minds! GET IN! You're American!!!!!!"
We jumped into the car and took off with what turned out to be the three coolest guys I've ever met in Turkmenistan.
"We love Americans! We're so glad you're here! We'll take you for free!"
And so the ride went like that, a non-stop conversation of broken Turkmen, Russian and English. We arrived to the airport and they got out of the car, helped us through security, and offered to stay and wait or bring me back to their house to hang out for awhile since my flight didn't leave for a few more hours.
"Really, I'm good! It's okay!" I assured them. We exchanged phone numbers and decided we would definitely hang out when I got back to Turkmenistan.
"ANGELA we'll call you when you get back!!! We friends!" they said. "We LOVE Americans!"
Where else will a car full of really cool guys give you a free ride all the way to the airport and make you laugh your butt off the whole entire time because they're just so damn awesome?
I love this country.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Who needs a visa?
Packed in a room half the size of my kitchen, I stood amongst forty other hopeful travellers last Tuesday trying to get a transit visa for Kazakhstan to get to Bishkek.
No lines, no organization, just mounting anger, discomfort, and one great cesspool of impatience.
An elderly woman was slapped and pushed back by two younger Russian ladies and when her husband tried desperately to rush to her aid he also was pushed back and told to back off.
These people weren't messing around.
The second one person left the few inches of window space, ten others smashed themselves forward in pursuit of being next, causing the greatest debaucle I have seen in a long, long time.
Then people started screaming at each other, pushing, smacking, shoving and more fights broke out.
For almost four hours I waited among them all, gasping in horror at the Russian curses flying, and praying that I would get my chance at the window.
Then the largest man in Turkmenistan stepped through the door holding about fourteen documents and passports in his hand. He smelled of cows, sour milk and sweat and he was heading STRAIGHT FOR ME.
I was trapped...backed in a corner behind this massive fellow, against the wall with my hand clamped over my nose and mouth to stop the smell. He was working his way up to the window, using his weight as his best weapon.
Finally enough was enough. The poor man working at the window threatened to close down and no one would get their visas unless we shut up and behaved.
So it worked...an hour later I got my paperwork through the window, smiled widely and asked him if I could pick up my visa on Thursday instead of Wednesday.
"Ohhhh please, PLEASE, oh my GOD, PLEEEAAASE come back Thursday!!!!!!!" he barked through the window as he grabbed the next person's paperwork.
Cool and confident I returned to the embassy early this morning after an eleven hour train ride into the capital, praying over and over that my visa would be ready.
I peered through the little window when the crowd parted mid-morning and asked him in broken Russian if my visa was ready.
"WHAT?????" he yelled. "Why didn't you come YESTERDAY?????"
He picked it up off the pile to his right and I grabbed it out of his hand as soon as I had the chance. I gave him a wink and skipped triumphantly out of the building.
I am on my way.
No lines, no organization, just mounting anger, discomfort, and one great cesspool of impatience.
An elderly woman was slapped and pushed back by two younger Russian ladies and when her husband tried desperately to rush to her aid he also was pushed back and told to back off.
These people weren't messing around.
The second one person left the few inches of window space, ten others smashed themselves forward in pursuit of being next, causing the greatest debaucle I have seen in a long, long time.
Then people started screaming at each other, pushing, smacking, shoving and more fights broke out.
For almost four hours I waited among them all, gasping in horror at the Russian curses flying, and praying that I would get my chance at the window.
Then the largest man in Turkmenistan stepped through the door holding about fourteen documents and passports in his hand. He smelled of cows, sour milk and sweat and he was heading STRAIGHT FOR ME.
I was trapped...backed in a corner behind this massive fellow, against the wall with my hand clamped over my nose and mouth to stop the smell. He was working his way up to the window, using his weight as his best weapon.
Finally enough was enough. The poor man working at the window threatened to close down and no one would get their visas unless we shut up and behaved.
So it worked...an hour later I got my paperwork through the window, smiled widely and asked him if I could pick up my visa on Thursday instead of Wednesday.
"Ohhhh please, PLEASE, oh my GOD, PLEEEAAASE come back Thursday!!!!!!!" he barked through the window as he grabbed the next person's paperwork.
Cool and confident I returned to the embassy early this morning after an eleven hour train ride into the capital, praying over and over that my visa would be ready.
I peered through the little window when the crowd parted mid-morning and asked him in broken Russian if my visa was ready.
"WHAT?????" he yelled. "Why didn't you come YESTERDAY?????"
He picked it up off the pile to his right and I grabbed it out of his hand as soon as I had the chance. I gave him a wink and skipped triumphantly out of the building.
I am on my way.
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